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
Added by Poetry Lover
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