The lovely rose whose stems straightness,

The path to take, determines its petals dimes.

For the ant must stand before his army

And account for the sights he hath seen

First to receive the praise for a journey lack of tardy

But, only to be clouded by another’s glean.

For this ant hath traversed the perilous journey of the stem.

Over the razor thorns, through floods of rain

He alone rose to stand among them:

The beauty of his petals, his view, his love through pain.

Alas, to all fellow ants, beware the short stemmed rose

For beauty too easily come by may cause an ants heart to close.


Perdeby often gets asked if we have a space for poetry in the paper. Now we do. If you think your poetry should appear in this space, send an email to Submissions may not be more than 100 words and may not have any unusual layout features. See the Perdeby letter policy for other guidelines.

Website | view posts