To A Dying Ant

To A Dying Ant short poem

Photo by Mick E. Talbot


What implorations do they trace?
These crooked legs in convulsion
These crawly things in deathly grace
What feeling evoke, what compulsion?

The crushed mass on concrete floor
In pasty death mocks my wisdom
Should I act, or do I ignore
The plight of this dying ant

To kill in the name of mercy
Is but farce and hypocrisy
For conscience is a convenience
A galleon in wind and doldrums

Then let it be, this false virtue
Let the greater law prevail
Impede not workers in duty
Here they come to bury the dead

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Pradeep Bahirwani

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Hopeless romantic, grounded realist, eternal optimist, brooding pessimist. All these are me. I am all of them, and then some more. Here you will find some of my poetry written between 1985 and 1999, a period when my idealism and abstraction topped the pressures of reality and sustenance.
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