A wisp of gossamer, about the size and substance of a spider's web.
quote by Monica Baldwin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spiderman
Spider man, spider man
Does whatever a spider can
Spins a web any size
Catches thieves just like flies
Look out!
There comes the spider man
Is he strong?
Listen, bud
Hes got radioactive blood
Can he swing from a thread?
Take a look overhead
Hey, there!
There goes the spider man
In the chill of the night
At the scene of a crime
Like a streak of light
He arrives just in time
Spider man, spider man
Friendly neighborhood spider man
Wealth and fame
Hes ignorant
Action is his reward
Look out!
Here comes the spider man
To him, lifes a big bang up
Whenever theres a hang up
Youll find the spider man.
song performed by by Ramones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Website, spider style
Do spiders think? or simply learn
without a thought (well, lucky them)
by observation, as great scientists?
Does Nature do it all without a 'thought',
the spider just some robot, programmed thus?
The spider which the other day
built daring, acrobatic, gossamer bridge
across the path a guy-lined full six feet
so that to reach the gate, I had to genuflect
as if in some most holy church's aisle,
That bridge of San Luis Rey, already doomed
to break - the postman, paper boy, the milk -
I watched while seated in the sun for hours;
and as I watched, grew humbler by the minute;
myself the smaller in respect, the spider greater;
my lunch was cooking; the spider awaited (hers?) :
and we grew closer, in some unknown place in mind.
Today, a small, great miracle
of nature - who may be
beyond miracles; or yet bound in a web of law:
Neatly - thoughtfully? -
the web was now aligned
along the hedge of neighbours and ourselves.
And I was humbled by knowing nothing
worth a spider's web.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Gossamer Son
Take the path
Question none,
Gossasmer Son.
Float along
enjoy the sun,
Gossamer Son.
Feel frivolous, faint and free
See the songs, sail the sea
be the big, beware the bee.
A Gossamer's you
and you is he.
So live this Life as God's given tree.
Eat it's fruit
try this gift
you are the one
Gossamer Son.
poem by S.W. Clark
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Wisp of love
O' wisp of love
so delicate,
barely
discernable
burgeoning cautiously
perhaps
predetermined
by fate
O' wisp of love
cries out
to be heard
regardless of
it's destiny,
irrational as it may be
O' wisp of love
refuses to be still
ever stirring within us
which ever way it befalls
it will be....
it must be.
T. Labbe`
Night Worker
A spider spun his web all night
and waited patiently.
A fly had circled all the morn
and buzzed there cautiously.
The spider watched and stayed so still.
No movement did he make.
And by and by the fly descended
and landed wide-awake.
He spotted the spider and tried his best
to escape the sticky trap.
The spider watched and slowly moved
and the fly with his handicap
became the bait inside the web
that the spider made at night.
The spider had his breakfast early
in the morning light.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Lonely Spider
The lonely spider reaches out
For what, you might ask?
If not to spin his web then for what?
For his identity
The identity of him
His identity...
The lonely spider calls out
For what, you might ask?
If not for his mate then for what?
For his identity
The identity of him
His identity...
The lonely spider waits
For what, you might ask?
If not for his food then for what?
For his identity
The identity of him
His identity...
'A spider doesn't have feelings! '
How should you know?
'A spider isn't that smart! '
That could be true.
'A spider can never have a real identity! '
And neither could you, or any of us
But we try to find one even if we're not looking
And thats our life... after which we die
What have we done with our life up until then?
Either we've thrown it away, gave it up, wrecked it, lived it up to the fullest, took it for granted, or got far in it.
We still had one.
It's up to us what we shall do with it
Just like the lonely spider
Who will probably just end up on the bottom of your shoe anyways
poem by Andreanna Atkins
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There's A Spider In My Room!
I’ve just spotted a spider in my bedroom.
Around the walls, he’s decided to zoom!
My eyes are now glued to the wall;
Not that I’m the least bit worried at all!
Oh no! Now he’s crawling on the ceiling,
And I’m getting a slightly anxious feeling.
He’s now hanging around over my bed:
Just above where I usually lay my head!
I’m sitting, watching him crawling around,
Praying that he doesn’t fall to the ground.
I dare not now switch off the light,
As, of him, I’ll suddenly lose all sight.
Why couldn’t he have stuck to the wall,
Where he would have been less likely to fall?
He’s running around as fast as he can.
Of any size spider, I’m not a great fan.
Unfortunately, at this time of year,
Outside, there are greater things to fear.
If I capture him now and throw him out,
I’ll get a crane fly in return, without a doubt.
A smallish spider, I can just about bear,
But, for crane flies, I really do not care!
I guess, a spider is the lesser evil of the two,
As they can’t fly at you, like crane flies do!
If it’s dark, maybe he, to, will go to sleep,
Or round the room, he may continue to creep.
So, maybe I’ll turn out the light and be brave,
And just hope the spider doesn’t misbehave!
poem by Angela Wybrow
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A Child
Little wisp of wonderment,
All the world your doll!
Hugging it in huge content,
Little wisp of wonderment;
Life has only laughter sent—
Everything is droll:
Little wisp of wonderment,
All the world your doll.
poem by Arthur Henry Adams
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It Comes - Part 4
(It is suggested that the reader reads Parts 1,2 & 3 first)
Dr Roger Maitland moved
to the microphone to start his address.
He cleared his throat and then spoke
in a soft but commanding voice.
Ladies and gentlemen,
many of you have voiced theories
about the disappearances of the many ships.
I have now the evidence of the creature,
which is causing the carnage on the seas
and a possible explanation
as to why it only seems to attack at night.
At first the blue light that witnesses had seen puzzled me,
then it struck me that the light
might be a florescent lure.
It has been known for quite some time
that fishes from the great depths
use florescent lures to attract mates as well as food.
I believe that the creature is from the deep abysses yet uncharted. My theory is that as it travelled to the surface
its body expanded growing in size.
Something within its genetic make up
could have expanded it from eight feet to eighty feet,
a monstrous creature.
Shouts of impossible! Impossible!
Echoed around the room.
No creature known to man
could survive a decent from the deep abysses.
It would explode on the way up.
Remember the pressure Dr
is far greater the deeper you go.
I agree it seems impossible;
however, this giant creature does exist.
Maitland removed two small bottles
from his jacket pockets and held them up.
One contained a black substance
the colour of black ink
and the other a black jelly.
This bottle contains the ink substance
excreted by squids when they are attacked.
This second bottle contains the substance
I found aboard the lifeboat of the Sulu Spray.
I have examined the contents
and found that is has a similar genetic structure
to the ink excreted by squids and
also a similar genetic form
to those found in a spider’s web.
There were gasps of disbelief.
Are you trying to tell us a giant form of spider
is causing the ships to disappear?
26 September 2009
To be continued
poem by David Harris
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A Flower To Auroville Mother-75
Spider lily(Beach spider lily
Hymenocallis littoralis)
Calm and lovely, she's Spider Lily
White and peace she's Spider Lily
Pristine and pure she's Spider Lily
Silent and certain she's Spider Lily
There, up above the fanning leaves
Asunder below staminal cup she's
Overflowing her nectarian streams
Mind-blowing her aura measureless
Sacred tepals lofty with beauty
Stamens atop splurging as deputy
There goes heaven's sweet ditty
Miss not a white goddess pretty
poem by Indira Renganathan
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The Spider And The Ant
I curiously observed an ant as it meandered,
ever closer to the spider's web.
In the corner of the window sat the spider,
a strand of web beneath its leg.
A waiting game was being played by the spider,
as the ant went this way and then the other.
How could it miss the web's support strands.
The spider bided its time and didn't bother.
The ant finally came across a strand and hesitated,
it tested its safety and then stepped back.
Surprisingly it climbed up to the labyrinth's centre,
the spider's sensors couldn't miss that.
It ran up the web and began to encase its prisoner,
but the ant fought hard against the thread.
Seconds later the spider returned to its corner
satisfied that its prey was almost dead.
poem by Orlando Belo
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z-Octogans and Revelation
I see the intricacies there
octagons and fractals;
web designs
varying.
Tensile steel it is said
characterize
the spider's web;
its strong.
At the corner of this beauty-ville
the spider lies
awaiting the kill
here death and beauty
mix
in darken night.
I can shake the cobwebs
from my head
but where in there
does my spider live?
Do the brain's spider webs
hide and reveal too
human spider kills?
How else to explain
the beauty the brain presents
and in that same brain
a killer spider lives.
So walk thee into the night
and as you brush aside that
spider web
or admire the tensile delicates
its beauty presents
understand too there lies
mayhem
and Revelation's Vision.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Boris The Spider
Look, hes crawling up my wall
Black and hairy, very small
Now hes up above my head
Hanging by a little thread
Boris the spider
Boris the spider
Now hes dropped on to the floor
Heading for the bedroom door
Maybe hes as scared as me
Wheres he gone now, I cant see
Boris the spider
Boris the spider
Creepy, crawly
Creepy, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
There he is wrapped in a ball
Doesnt seem to move at all
Perhaps hes dead, Ill just make sure
Pick this book up off the floor
Boris the spider
Boris the spider
Creepy, crawly
Creepy, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
Hes come to a sticky end
Dont think he will ever mend
Never more will he crawl round
Hes embedded in the ground
Boris the spider
Boris the spider
song performed by by Who
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wil-O-the-Wisp
Enchanted Wil-O-The Wisp Wanderer
You cannot escape his sea-blue
Eyes View
For set in water they are
Upon this beautiful form
Of You
Cladden In White Chantilly Lace
A flowing gown of floral crochet
But somewhat sheer in certain light
Seen in his eye near the bay
You walk along the sands O' time
Upon the shorelines
Passing Scene
O' enchanted Wil-O-The-Wisp Wanderer
You are the woman of his dreams
His sea of blue eyes come calling
Beckoning you away from the shore
Perhaps, anew, A Mermaid borne
And a Wil -O- The- Wisp Wanderer
No More
poem by Theodora Onken
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The Spider
Spider, Spider, weaving web-
Fine and silky, that can’t ebb;
What immortal Hand did give,
Engineering feet to live!
Swift legs moving on fine threads:
Insect prey finally dreads;
What finesse involves your act,
Smothering preys with great tact!
Gossamer-mesh baiting prey:
Caught in surprising, a way;
Wound by silken threads, so fast,
Die insects spun, quite aghast!
Thready sensors, zig-zag laid,
Helping hunter and to aid;
Moving majestically,
Howev’r strong the wind, may be.
What a cute beast? What a frame?
What made Adam give this name?
What gentleness? What great speed?
Catching prey with deadly greed!
Victor always in pinning
Lethally prey by spinning;
What superb brain, God-given,
Watching eyes, agile-driven!
Spider, Spider, weaving web-
Fine and silky, that can’t ebb;
What immortal Hand did give,
Engineering feet to live!
Written after William Blake’s, ‘The Tyger’
Copyright by Dr John Celes 4-6-2008
poem by John Celes
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I watched a sad hunting on the ceiling
A dragonfly rescued
from the gossamer
and flew away.........................
Then a small insect entangled
and struggled?
All of a sudden
Spider grabbed
and I was helpless?
['While stubbornness shelters one from reality, open-mindedness reveals all of life's truths.']-Unknown
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Spider
Spider crawling, on the wall
I see him and he, sees it all...
And he sees it all
I fell down in that lazy place,
Where the english language cant - penetrate and i
Saw your mouth moving - just forget it and lie here with me
Maybe we should just, climb under the sheets
Where the words they dont get in the way
We were wondering, if you recall
Is this the end of it - end of everything
We were wondering, wonder
Spider crawling - in my left ear
Has a message I - want you to hear
Hope youre happy - found what youre looking for
Do you miss me, miss me at all?
Spider tells me, saw you yesterday
With somebody new - what can I say?
What can i...
Spider crawling, I crawl with him -
We go everywhere, we see everything
We are falling, we are falling, falling to nowhere
Hope youre happy - found what youre looking for
Do you miss me, miss me at all?
Spider crawling, spider crawling, spider crawling...
song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Noiseless Patient Spider Of Walt
after reading walt's poem
on the noiseless patient spider i,
tried to verify it outside, i,
stepped out the door and sought
that spider
or any spider for that matter and i,
found one
hanging
motionless on its web
between the jack fruit tree and
the wall of the tamarind
and with my camera i began
clicking
i, want to catch what
is noiseless, and patient
and motionless
i, must, have been too careless
or impatient
when i fed the shot in my pc
the patience cannot be seen
the spider
even
is missing.l
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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You Just Haven't Discovered That Yet
'Mommie?
What is substance and quality?
We've been given an assigment,
To describe what it is in an essay.'
Substance is something one wishes to have,
When a missing of a quality has been overpriced.
'I see.
So...
In other words,
You're telling me...
You have no clue either.'
What did your father say about it?
'He said,
Substance is something sacrificed...
When the quality of it has been diminished,
To the getting of it only lasting for two minutes.'
Go tell your father,
He need not worry about the quality of the substance,
Any longer.
'Why is it,
When I ask you two a question...
The answers have nothing to do,
With my assignment.'
They do.
And they will.
You just haven't discovered that yet.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Empty As The Air
A life of substance, is always one that is desired.
But what of the substance you speak of?
How do you define it?
For ones man's junk is another man's treasure.
Substance is what we make of it.
Leading an interesting life in the gallows, could be considered a life of substance if that is what he desires.
Are you trying say he is saying pity me I have not lived an interesting life, one full of life changing, learning, and ever different experiences?
Do go on, as we investigate the brain.
Put it under some light.
What is really their?
Hmm, I can only wonder.
Maybe it is something empty as the air.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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