Flying Ants

Poem By Sidi J. Mahtrow

Can ants fly?
Most certainly,
As they reach their passion
For procreating the species, everlasting.
Seem to come from you know not
Where, but in the morning
The evidence's there.
Carcasses large
And small
Seem to
Have spent
Their last moments
Searching for the perfect event
Where a male and female of the species
Come together. Yet here's proof that nature
Intended for survival of the fittest to fly and prevail
While all those others that tried, seemed to fail
Look closely and you will see what was
A large number, flying for the cause
Ants that didn't make it for sure,
They lie there, big and small.
Scattered about the floor
Lifeless as others before.
But wait, is there something that can be
Said for this Dance of Death where surely,
Ants must die so that the species can survive?
At least one Queen, the mating flight, will energize
To lays fertile eggs, numberless, in the selected nest
Where workers will ensure that offspring survive to the last.
There they'll grow large and aplenty with no evidence that
They're awaiting Nature's call for a moment of nuptial bliss
When on a night they'll arise in flight, moonlight kissed
To gather in the reflected light, circling to meet their fate.
Wings a flutter, soaring in the air, exhausting their energy fare
Then spent, bodies accumulate as they come to rest in silent doom.
Where you come across this; nature's Graveyard, in the room.
Evidence that many have perished so the species can renew.
Be grateful that these are flying ants, within your view,
With body shaped not unlike this poem.
Head, articulate neck, slim waist
And large abdomen.

They are not Termites!

Comments about Flying Ants

Dear Mr. Mahtrow, Is it possible to keep these flying ant in a typical ant farm? Or do they need more grazing pasture than the common red or black ants? TRRW

Rating Card

5 out of 5
0 total ratings

Other poems of MAHTROW

thoughts On Rm.Shanmugam Chettiar's 'Half-Done' Poem

Rare is the word
That is used to describe
But you decide

reiterative Poetry

Reiterative poetry it seems proper to say
Has seen little sunlight in present day.
Yet it represents in all regard,
The beginning as English language broached forward.

A Chicken Is Not A Bird

A chkn na be a byrd
Acord'n folk lvn in flori da
Kep'n and own'n be difernt
If be a tigr or sknk kept

A Special Christmas Gift

Most gifts come wrapped or maybe
Too awkward to be,
Are left standing in the corner or lying unwrapped under the tree
But this special gift was different, to be delivered on bended knee.

A Reply To Wilson's Illusions

Easy to criticize
Till you realize
That those who are so smart
Have no answers for a start!

A Ghostly Air

Was that a breath of cold air
I felt as I drove about in my car,
Or was it just the end of summer heat
That soon would be in full retreat?