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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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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The Spider's Web
The spider weaves a web so it can catch its prey
wherever it is convenient to take its hunger away.
An intricate net so finely built yet strong to withhold
all those creatures of nature that get caught in its fold.
The spider knows it will most likely do its job well
and so in the course of the day only time will tell.
It is only when something bigger comes along the way
that the web will break and from its foundations stray.
It’s made to withstand the elements of wind, rain or shine
though it appears in structure to be very delicate and fine.
It never ceases to amaze me with what precision it is made
the work of a skilled artist and product of non-human trade.
It’s made of the same basic material as the silk of the worm
which the spider spins out of its body but is sticky and firm.
The purpose behind the two though has a different motive
being to the both of them uniquely characteristic or native.
I wouldn’t like to be one of those creatures caught in the web
struggling desperately to get away and feeling its own life ebb.
The length and trouble some creatures go to in life to survive
is part of the drama that goes on in nature to keep them alive.
The spider’s web hangs securely moving gently with the breeze
and is fastened onto stationary objects that support it with ease.
Its creator waits patiently at the centre for the right time to come
when the web gives signs that food has arrived again hmm…yum.
If you then happen to see a spider’s web that’s along your way
don’t go and deliberately pull it down as it is a crime I must say.
Unless abandoned or an interference let it catch the spider’s main feed
which is based on its natural instinct of survival and not that of greed.
poem by George Krokos
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Relieved again was I
A summer afternoon
Sun hidden in clouds
That formed a thin screen
Over the entire sky
Dispersed sun light
Crows flying in a formation
As I was witnessing
Through a window from
The sixth floor
Doves fluttering from
One window to the other
Hot wind blowing but
Adding some comfort to
The sweating and mildly drenched body
And wiping off some sweat inside
Busy traffic down on the roads
Exhausts’ spewing
Screaming brakes
And sudden halts
Sleepy gulmohar leaves with
Yellow little flowers on top
My eyes shifted to a bee
As it passed near my face
With a zing and a sharp sound
How quick and smart it was
I stopped watching outside
But inside the balcony
My eyes following the fast bee, our hero
Oh, my god he got stuck
Onto to a spider web
A net spread to catch a prey
“Our hero bee is a prey now”
Was my inner cry
No he was not letting that happen
Struggling with his legs
And trying to get out of the web
A big spider in the middle of the web
Woke up off its sleep
Because of ripples in the web
And fast approaching its prey
Struggle on one side
Chase on the other
Spider almost reached its prey
With its legs placed in a position
Over the struggling bee
Spider lowering its body
Onto its prey for a fatal bite
It was a fraction of a second
Our hero succeeded in
Breaking the web and fleeing
Bee came off but took sometime
Before getting his original speed
A disappointed spider went back
To the centre of the web for its
Afternoon nap
Bee again flying around me
In merry and gay
How relieved was I
I looked back and recollected
“For what I am here”
On this sixth floor
Yeah, it was a hospital
My daughter admitted
And was laboring to
Deliver her first kid
Walked towards the
Labour room
And my wife nagging me
“Where did you go? ”
I had no answer, but
Before I started answering
A nurse appeared and
Said to both of us
“Congrats, it is grandson”
Relieved again was I
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Learn From The Spider
learn from the spider
he knows the value of patience
for even how long he waits for a prey
he never complain
not so for humans
most steal what they need
robbed banks kill others
to suit their greed
others use their beauty their charms
to become somebody
then afterall runaway
breaking hearts without pity
learn from the spider.
learn from the spider
the value of industry
he never stops to spin and spin
until he is through
with its beautiful web
where he lies down and waits for a prey
not with humans
some do not love to work
they beg from others
they disguise as binds
they pretend they have nothig
and beg for alms
in front of synagoge
on hot, busy streets
learn from the spider
not from humans
fr spiders do not pretend
human does
poem by Villiamor Calventas
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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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Sexy Ida (Part I)
Don't give your love to sexy Ida
'Cause she's the sister of a black widow spider
Don't try your love on sexy Ida
You might as well try it with some spider
She's got this long black hair, it's a hangin' on down her back
Long black pretty legs and she walks just like a cat
Hypnotic eyes and a stacked up love sack
She not only wants your love
She wants your life after that...don't do it
Don't give your love to sexy Ida
'Cause she's the sister of a black widow spider
Said you better not try it
Don't try your love on sexy Ida
You might as well try it with some spider
She's got a king sized bed with satin sheets of love
And you'll never wanna leave, no
The web of love she weaves...but I'll tell you
Don't give your love to sexy Ida
'Cause she's the sister of a black widow spider
You better not try it
Don't try your love on sexy Ida
You might as well try it with some spider
You gotta beware of sexy Ida
'Cause she tries to look so sweet and kind
But her looks can be deceivin'
'Cause her love is like strychnine
So don't give your love now
So don't give your love to sexy Ida
'Cause she's the sister of a black widow spider
Better not give your love to Ida
Don't try your love on sex Ida
You might as well try it with some spider
No, don't you give your love
Don't give your love to sexy Ida
'Cause she's the sister of a black widow spider...
song performed by by Tina Turner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Foiled by beauty for M'lady Sally plumb
A spider web bedecked with dew.
The early morning sun shines through.
Creates a tapestry of light.
A work of art in its own right.
Because the sparkling dew negates.
The spider webs efficiency.
Until the sun evaporates
the morning dew sufficiently
The spider must wait patiently
until at last she breaks her fast
Flies tangled inextricably
in the sticky threads she cast.
The spider builds instinctively.
A trap we aren’t supposed to see.
As long as it is visible
It’s totally impossible.
For the silken trap to do
(It is designed to be unseen)
The task it is intended to.
But for the dew it would have been.
Although it’s pleasing to our eyes
We know it isn’t meant to be
It’s obvious to passing flies
who can avoid it easily.
The hungry spider would prefer
to do without the morning dew.
Which seems intent to deprive her
of fat flies which are her due.
The spider’s loss is our gain
We see the transient beauty.
Which we may never see again.
If only temporarily.
The spider web bedecked with dew
To us a source of great delight
Created each morning anew
by dew drops reflecting sun light.
Although the spider breakfasts late.
There’s little doubt she will survive.
I’m sure she will appreciate
her breakfast when it does arrive.
Tuesday,08 March 2011
http.blog.myspace.com poeticpiers.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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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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Truth In Deathbed
if you brought the
truth about me in your deathbed
do not worry
i am not interested to know
i make myself
i weave
my lies too
i am the spider weaving
my own house
that traps
all my prey and i have learned
to eat them all
sleep well mother
do not tell me what heaven
is all about
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Rat and the Owl
A rat is moving on the ground;
It searches for something to eat;
’Tis night and it must quickly find
Some food or else, it must sure starve!
A large owl stands with two large eyes;
It turns its neck to scan the ground;
It strains its eyes to catch a prey,
And sees a rat shuffling across!
Both search for food in frantic ways;
Both need to eat to stay alive;
The owl is like a ghost at night;
Its large eyes contrast rat’s small ones!
The owl is predator for rat;
The rat is prey for owl at night;
The owl is sure to pin the rat,
And death is sure for the latter!
The rat moves on unwarily!
It nears the owl innocently;
It does not know that death is near;
Its mind is bent on searching food!
The owl is watching rat’s movements;
The prey is rather small in size;
It tries to keep the rat within
Its visual fields, and take a strike!
The rat is unaware of owl;
It has not sniffed the danger near;
With nostrils engrossed in food-search,
It scurries to and fro for long!
The owl is planning when to swoop;
An opportune moment must come;
The rat must take a moment’s rest;
The owl’s claws take the rat to nest!
The predator is smart and swift;
The prey will certainly get caught;
There is a small chance to escape;
But, predator must make the fault!
Both owl and rat must eat to live;
The rat is prey for owl always;
The rat can still avoid its death;
It must respect the owl’s beak-might!
In life, we play with dangers oft;
We know that fire surely burns;
We walk into the ‘jaws of death’!
We take some risks that bring us death!
But being careful is a must;
We cannot risk our precious life;
Lurk dangers in our environs;
The thread of life could get cut fast!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 7-21-2008
poem by John Celes
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The Tiger
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forest of the night
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?
And What shoulder, and what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? and what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the lamb make thee?
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
poem by William Blake
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The Tyger
Tyger, tyger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And, when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?
Tyger, tyger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
poem by William Blake
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Orb Weaver Spider
The Orb Weaver spider spins her web,
Round and round and round.
She works away slowly and silently,
Without making a single sound.
She's patient and determined,
No matter how long it takes,
And, if the web gets badly damaged,
The whole thing she will just remake.
She secures her new web
Between a fence and a washing line,
Then retreats into the middle of it,
Hoping that everything will be just fine.
Unfortunately, the house owner
Hangs her tea towel right there.
The web is now in tatters
And has to be repaired.
This situation with the tea towel,
Happens again and again and again.
Having to repair the web constantly,
Is starting to become a really big pain.
Having seen this fine work of art hung there,
The owner shows the spider no respect.
She just carries on hanging it there regardless.
Whether the web is there or not, she hasn't checked.
The spider and the house owner
Are now at war and neither will give in.
Neither of them will budge an inch,
So neither of them will ever win.
But, the year rolls on and on.
Like the rest of her kind, the spider will die.
One day, she's just not there anymore,
Having gone to meet her maker in the sky.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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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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The Spider
'OH, look at that great ugly spider!' said Ann;
And screaming, she brush'd it away with her fan;
''Tis a frightful black creature as ever can be,
I wish that it would not come crawling on me. '
'Indeed,' said her mother, 'I'll venture to say,
The poor thing will try to keep out of your way;
For after the fright, and the fall, and the pain,
It has much more occasion than you to complain.
'But why should you dread the poor insect, my dear?
If it hurt you, there'd be some excuse for your fear;
But its little black legs, as it hurried away,
Did but tickle your arm, as they went, I dare say.
'For them to fear us we must grant to be just,
Who in less than a moment can tread them to dust;
But certainly we have no cause for alarm;
For, were they to try, they could do us no harm.
'Now look! it has got to its home; do you see
What a delicate web it has spun in the tree?
Why here, my dear Ann, is a lesson for you:
Come learn from this spider what patience can do!
'And when at your business you're tempted to play,
Recollect what you see in this insect to-day,
Or else, to your shame, it may seem to be true,
That a poor little spider is wiser than you. '
poem by Ann Taylor
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spider’s new web made
engineering feat unmatched
makes men to covet
quote by by John Celes
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The Unseen Spider
Across the college porch, there stood a piece –
A model of our college that looked fine,
Within a glass-case placed on a table,
And made to scale and painted in nice way!
The medical college looked so lovely,
Located ’midst flora and good fauna –
With trees of every sort and gardens neat,
Where snakes and scorpions and pea-fowls abound!
The campus was a natural beauteous scene,
Alluring on-lookers with natural ease;
The spell-bound parents left their wards to learn
In Nature’s lap, and noiseless air and peace!
The model old seemed beautifully made;
A bit of cob-web lay that never moved!
The spider lone was traceless on the scene:
Perhaps, it died without enough of food!
The strand of cob-web made the model great!
No human hands can match a spider’s legs!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 17-11-11
poem by John Celes
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Spidey, Spider
Spidey, Spider
Spidey, spider spinning fast,
I will trap my fly at last,
eight eyes witness final swings
and roundabouts of online wings.
What brow[n] beaten beatle stagged
in cocoon so neatly tagged,
what wet silk that sets dew scene
for caught-on-hop grasshopper green?
Silk’s redigested once prey’s bagged
for protein’s precious, times are lean.
Spidey, spider, biding time,
reinforces reeling rhyme,
scuttling hither, thither, waits
sliding stealthily relates
patience monumental which
line by line shall seamless stitch.
Architect arachnidae
delicately weave, stay sly
attuned to clue vibrations rich
of honey bee or dragonfly.
Spiders stretched white web world wide
digesting juices from inside
before man's ancestors evolved,
and after they'll be buried cold
will still persist as climate change
restricts, extends, contains free range.
My countless kin waged battle royal
against ants, termites, trouble, toil,
my brood will win, grow wings though strange
this may seem now, span tree and soil.
Spidey’s kin spin, far outnumber
lazy men on planet earth
whose tasteless haste and waste encumber
ecosystems, stifle birth.
Prudent spider seeks solution
ingests pest guests. Man spreads pollution.
See impatience, profligate,
seed destruction at his gate,
while web dissolves - thank evolution -
daily may disintegrate.
My mobility remains
when struggles stick to glue goo pains,
chirps, once strident, silent fall
gone with wind is curtained call.
Twinkle, twinkle, spider’s mate,
you shall find your fate too late,
headless abdomen cavorting
still recycled while lust’s sporting,
courting ends as fornicate
vets pro_testee’s rigor morting.
Spidey spinning left to right
pluridextrous appetite.
Hung with dewdrops, webworlds wait
hungry weave, anticipate
larder stocked by afternoon
juices syphoned prove true boon,
from mini mite of wispy weight
to the great tarantulate,
arachnid art’s bye-bye cartoon,
dried insects die incarcerate.
Though man for some five thousand years
has spread two feet through vale of tears,
I've eight, soon, late, the odds are great
time man's mime leaves forgotten fate.
My many offspring prospering
with steel strength string and piercing sting
shall raise their eyes from man's sighs see
octoganal eternity
the motto 'Time where is thy sting'
is in my tail's tale everything!
5 December 2007 revised 4 February 2009 robi3_1378_blak1_0003
5 December 2007 revised 4 February 2009 robi3_1378_blak1_0003
for previous version see below
Parody William Blake, The Tyger and Anne and Jane Taylor, Twinkle, Twinkle
Spider, Spider
Spider, spider spinning fast,
will you trap your fly at last,
will you witness final swings
and roundabouts of online wings?
What about the beatle stagged
In cocoon so neatly tagged,
what the silk that sets the scene
caught-on-hop grasshopper green?
What mobility remains
when struggles bind to further pains,
chirps, once strident, silent fall
only breeze heeds moving call.
Twinkle, twinkle, spider’s mate,
you shall find your fate too late,
headless abdomen cavorting
while recycled is lust’s sporting,
Hung with dewdrops, spiders wait,
hungry, prey anticipate.
5 December 2007
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What We Should Have Forgotten
there is a spider
in the vortex of
my mind
it dwells there
and every
day and every night
it is weaving
from its mouth
its food
its choice of words
a house
of poems
a kingdom
of images
where i shall live
where you shall
read
where you can become
another
figment of
some imaginations
there is another spider
in the vortex of your
mind
that weaves that hunger
that thirst
that longing
that feeling of imperfection
its moving
like a pendulum
it is revolving like a planet
to an eternal
circumlocution
these are the spiders in our
minds
that make us
all
human
always missing something
always remembering
what we should have forgotten.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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