Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
Futile Ways of Man
I fling the dirt, onto the ground
Near-by my house, heaped like a mound;
And then the wind with fury blows;
From whence, it came, the dirt back goes! ,
I take the cob-webs off the wall;
Some spiders escape by their fall;
They form the cob-webs once again,
With speeds that can turn one insane!
I sprinkled ant-powder one day;
All ants have vanished for just now;
I see them come another way,
To eat the spilt sugary dough!
I spray insecticide to kill
The cock-roaches that run freely;
A few are dead after the drill;
The rest return some day surely!
Some centipedes enter strangely
Into a house that’s kept so clean;
I know they can cause allergy!
Such creatures mean, I’ve never seen!
The ways of man are just futile;
Most acts on earth are wasteful ones;
We wear a mask and yet can smile;
Our labor goes awaste in tons!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 4-12-2007
poem
by
John Celes
solid border
dashed border
dotted border
double border
groove border
ridge border
inset border
outset border
no border
blue
green
red
purple
cyan
gold
silver
black