Ants (Mwaba Don)

[azure]

Ants, architects of complex colonies,
their size tizzing to a man’s ego
for one to stop for a moment in wonder
to learn from their ways of work.

On sight for the whole period of watch,
move continuously through the colony
like blood passing through the heart with
their gatherings raised above their heads.

Endowed with some sort free spirit
they tear up leaves,climb walls
toil on and underground, hastily
feast on hovering birds and fowls that die.

Dazzling to see them move in line as thou
programmed with robotic instruction
yet they have not the glorious presence of
a flag carrier like that of a military parade.

Ah, bloody ants. Well it seemed as if you strained your head writing this. Forcing the creative facilities to produce never ends up well in my experience. This poem just doesn't have a natural feel or flow at all. Also, the way you are describing ants throughout the whole piece is devoid of any feeling, texture, and poetic substance. In my opinion, Art needs to draw upon some sort of emotional source from within. We just have to learn how to best draw upon those sources using technique and discipline. Don't force, feel.

Azure