The Giant Spider
In the bathroom this evening I saw the largest spider I’d ever seen,
it was the size of a saucer and it must’ve been a king or queen.
Menacingly it stood in front of me and looked me in the eye,
I think it was considering whether I should live or die.
It began tapping one of its front feet against the tiled floor,
I didn’t know what to do, I became anxious and unsure.
The spider licked its lips, as though it had decided what to do,
so I took one step backwards and then quickly another two.
I’m sure I felt the floor vibrate, as it tapped its foot once more,
it then stood in the doorway so I couldn’t get out the door
I considered jumping over it, but remembered that they also leap,
but then my brother walked in, and crushed it beneath his feet.
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Janice and You and the Spider
You stood
in the playground
of St Jude's school
which was really
the basement
of a bombed out house
which had been gutted
and the basement tarmaced
and the walls
were still there
where kids climbed up
and around
the thin ledge
when Janice
put her hands
over your eyes
and said
guess who?
and you put
your hands
into the pockets
of your short trousers
and said
Miss Murphy
or Miss Ashdown?
no
Janice said
it's me
and she removed
her hands
from over your eyes
and you turned around
and looked at her
and she had
her red beret on
and a pink scarf
around her neck
to keep out
the cold
you must
have known
it was me
she said
who else
would put their hands
over your eyes?
her eyes were bright
and you thought
you could see yourself
in them
as if they were small mirrors
Jupp might do
or maybe Carmody
you said smiling
she didn't smile back
but pulled her lips
tight in a line
then she took your hand
and pulled you
along the path
that led
to the school toilets
and pushed you
inside a cubicle
and shut the door
behind you both
and said
don't you love me?
there was a large spider
hanging from
the cistern chain
close to
her red beret
and it hung there
suspended
swaying back
and forth
and you said
of course I do
right down
to your white socks
but there's a spider
above your head
and she looked up
and screamed
and a voice
outside the door
asked
are you all right
in there?
Janice's eyes widened
and she watched
as the spider
moved up the chain
and she said
yes it's all right
Miss Murphy
just a small spider
and you stood there
next to Janice
wondering what
Miss Murphy
would say
if she saw you
and Janice
in the lavatory
together
and the voice said
ok as long
as you
are all right
and the footsteps
moved away
and Janice took
your hand in hers
and you sensed
how cold it was
slightly blue
and it was just
9 year old Janice
and the big spider
and 9 year old you.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Tall Story
There was a knock on my front door, an angel stood outside!
I looked in shock, dropped to the floor, the door still opened wide.
The angel sighed and then flew in and put the kettle on,
Aware our talk would soon begin when fainting spells had gone.
The tea was ready there for me, he pointed to the cup.
So I drank my hot tea slowly, until that time was up.
He pointed to the living room, where both of us sat down,
My mind still felt a sense of doom and gloom sure makes you frown.
The angel told me, 'Get a pen and get some paper, too! '
So I stood up, right there and then, this very thing to do.
'Write down the words that I recite, when done, I'll have to leave.'
When I began, my face was white and I could hardly breathe.
He took his time and so did I, for twenty pages long,
When done, I heaved a quiet sigh... Were my words right or wrong?
He read it all and was impressed, 'Well done, I'll leave it here.
Please get it published. Do your best. The meaning's crystal clear.'
Then he stood up, walked to the door and so I let him go.
He said, 'God bless! ' and then no more, what more was there to know?
He flew away, past roofs and trees and reached the nearby hill
And soared up higher with such ease, yes, higher, higher still.
When my scanner scanned the pages, it left me quite perplexed,
As it must have taken ages to recognise the text.
I emailed every single word, my publisher replied,
He said he'd never been so stirred, I must've been inspired.
Of course, I couldn't tell him then! He'd get me locked away!
'I met this angel, ten foot ten, at home, this very day! '
So I kept quiet, private like... The published work sold well.
I bought a laptop and a bike, but one day, off I fell.
No guardian angel raised alarm that ice was on the road,
When I fell off, I broke my arm and said, 'Well, I'll be blowed.'
When I got home, I made the tea, got fish and chips that night
And got in bed quite carefully, then prayed with all my might!
The angel knocked upon my door, I sighed then let him in.
This time, because I knew the score, I chose not to begin.
'I'll use the laptop, type it out, then save the text that way.'
The angel looked at me so proud, God's wisdom to relay.
'Well done, please get it published soon! ' I walked him to the door,
He healed my arm, flew past the moon, I waved to him with awe.
That angel's words were good as gold, he certainly had skill.
It's only now my story's told... Make of it what you will...
Denis Martindale, copyright, September 2012.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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His Saint Feet
The feet of our Lord walked
Along the dusty roads,
Scratched by the stones.
Along the narrow paths,
Cared by the green grasses.
Those Saint Feet were not aware of tiredness,
He walked His way with worthiness.
Beyond an ordinary strength those feet walked.
Days and nights,
Proclaiming to avoid the fights.
Those feet were washed by tears,
Those feet didn’t know any fears.
People knew those feet,
They didn’t want them to bleed.
Those who brought their sin to His feet
Were blessed and greeted.
That’s how he treated everyone.
But a betrayal was done.
His body was crucified.
Some people cried,
Some stood aside.
The same happens today.
And here I would like to say:
If you don’t trust
You will stay in dust.
And if you are a sinner,
Looking for salvation
Or wishing to get rid of temptation
Kneel before His feet,
Pray and ask for forgiveness
And you will go up to fineness.
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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4. Footwear for Spiders
A spider went shopping
To buy some new shoes
He tried on so many
But just couldn’t choose
He first tried four pairs
Each laced polished black
Then eight yellow flip flops
But all were to slack
Having searched every rack
He found some brown boots
Which he tried on at once
But they looked like tree roots
So he settled for clogs
Making eight feet look wider
Because no one sells shoes
For a smart trendy spider
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Soldier's Heart
All hope was gone
Hard to hang on
Hard to be strong
Was blind, could not see
Nothing but walls in front of me and inside no peace
And the mountains seemed impossible to climb until...
[Chorus]
You stood on the front lines
You led the way, out of the darkness
We didn't go astray
You were ready to die for our sake
And that takes a soldier's heart
Oceans so deep
Uphill so steep
But still we believe
And when the road was too far to travel
Heros you cared you came and carried us there
And the mountains seemed impossible to climb until...
[Chorus]
You stood on the front lines
You led the way, out of the darkness
We didn't go astray
You were ready to die for our sake
And that takes a soldier's heart
And so our flag was still there
All because you decided to care
[Chorus x2]
You stood on the front lines
You led the way, out of the darkness
We didn't go astray
You were ready to die for our sake
And that takes a soldier's heart
You stood on the front lines
You led the way, out of the darkness
You could have let us go astray
You were ready to die for our sake
And that takes a soldier's heart
And that takes a soldier's heart
song performed by by R. Kelly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Christmas Day At The Bunkhouse (Fun Poem 47)
It was Christmas day at the bunkhouse
everyone had sat down for a meal
when through the door walked a goat.
He stood and looked around,
then continued to eat an artichoke.
When he finished he sat and asked for a drink,
someone got up and gave him a bowel of water.
The goat looked at the offering with disgust.
Ain’t you got anything stronger that that?
Of course, we have, came the reply.
Well pour me out some the goats said,
and put some mud in my eye.
Someone had some scotch whiskey
and took the bottle out,
then gave the goat a dram.
The goat sniffed it, and then downed it
all in one swallow.
He then asked for more
saying his legs were still hollow.
Another dram was poured
and everyone was amazed to see,
an upside down goat
drinking a bottle of scotch whiskey.
The goat drank all day
and it drank all night.
The lights went out
and the old goat went to sleep.
He dreamed of himself
floating out the door
and all the way to heaven,
but when he got there,
St Peter wouldn’t let him in.
He said God will not tolerate
any drunken old goats here,
so you had better go back
and sleep it off, Billy.
Then put up a sign on the door.
No drunken old goats allowed,
signed by you know who.
You could always try
beneath the basement floor
he’ll greet you with a smile
and a shovel,
even make you hot and warm.
The moral of this story
whether you’re a goat or a man.
Don’t drink too much;
you could end up
jumping from the frying pan
and straight into the fire,
the one that they keep burning
permanently beneath the basement floor.
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A fly that dances carelessly in front of a spider's web, risks the wrath of the spider's teeth.
It Bothered Me
I saw a surveillance video
From a camera mounted on a public bus;
Two guys were having an augment,
But only one really wanted to fuss.
The evil guy continued to fuss.
He didn’t even know the good guys name;
He fussed and fussed and made fun,
To him it was like a game.
The good guy looked as if he wanted to leave,
That he could not believe this day;
But when he stood, to exit the bus.
The evil guy stood in his way.
The evil guy took out a knife;
That was concealed in his pocket.
All the passengers ran off the bus;
So fast, just like a rocket.
The evil guy stabbed and stabbed again
Till the good guy was on the floor.
Then he turned with haste, not looking back;
And quickly went out the door.
I couldn’t sleep for nights to come;
That video really bothered me,
I didn’t understand how the evil guy
Could attack a stranger so brutality.
That video extremely bothered me,
It made my heart so sad.
The evil guy didn’t even know the man;
If he was a husband, brother or dad.
Yes, the good guy did survive,
It was only by God’s grace.
I wonder why no one helped;
Just ran at such fast pace.
And so I ask the question today,
Not just to you, also to me.
If we were on that bus, that day
Would we had helped, or turned to flee?
Copyright © 2009 by-Phyllis Strong
poem by Phyllis Strong
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The Silver And Glass Pepper Pot
I was waiting for the final spin of the washing machine
and just happened to glance at the floor
when I thought something dashed behind the bucket,
so I took a look, just to make sure.
At first it looked like a sort of shadow,
something inoffensive and small,
but as soon as I moved the bucket away
it began to grow and grow, so tall.
In seconds its head and shoulders hit the ceiling,
its body almost blocked out the light.
It bent down and placed its face in front of mine,
my entire body shook with fright.
Its teeth filled mouth opened wide like a cavern,
I thought it was going to swallow me whole,
but instead it licked my face from ear to ear
the sweat from my frightened soul.
A loud bang from a back-firing car in the street
brought this creature instantly back to size.
I couldn't believe my luck so I ran into the kitchen
for a container to keep it minimised.
I wanted so much to gloat over its capture
and a pepper pot would be the ideal place.
It was still there in the corner of the utility room
and its fast capture cut down the chase.
The problem was, what was I to do with it,
should I ferry it far out to sea,
or just throw it in the recycling bin.
I decided to consider this carefully.
I was going away for a long weekend
and I would decide when I got back.
Until then it stood on the book case,
next to a silver framed photograph.
Whilst I was visiting friends and relations,
my house was burgled and trashed.
The pepper-pot prison was also stolen,
I fear the thief has burgled his last.
poem by Orlando Belo
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The End
We decided to have the abortion, became
killers together. The period that came
changed nothing. They were dead, that young couple
who had been for life.
As we talked of it in bed, the crash
was not a surprise. We went to the window,
looked at the crushed cars and the gleaming
curved shears of glass as if we had
done it. Cops pulled the bodies out
Bloody as births from the small, smoking
aperture of the door, laid them
on the hill, covered them with blankets that soaked
through. Blood
began to pour
down my legs into my slippers. I stood
where I was until they shot the bound
form into the black hole
of the ambulance and stood the other one
up, a bandage covering its head,
stained where the eyes had been.
The next morning I had to kneel
an hour on that floor, to clean up my blood,
rubbing with wet cloths at those glittering
translucent spots, as one has to soak
a long time to deglaze the pan
when the feast is over.
Anonymous submission.
poem by Sharon Olds
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Drummer Boy
A drummer boy dressed in white tapped his drum as he passed by my bed,
he never looked at me, and not a word was said.
Tippy tap drum, tippy tap drum, tippy tap drum, was his marching beat.
There was blood from a wound, but he kept to his feet.
As he marched back and forth it looked as though he was going to fall,
but he continued to beat his drum, as he walked through the wall.
On his departure the sound of a bugle was heard above the drum,
whistling rifle shots and cannon fire added to the battle’s hum.
A boy dressed in red and white, blowing a bugle marched passed my bed,
he had suffered a wound, and blood was flowing from his head.
Blowing with all his might I could see the determination on his face,
he seemed to be running out of breath, as he slowly lost the pace.
The drummer boy came up beside him and marched by his side,
the bugle boy stood up straight, and blew the charge as he cried.
Another drummer boy passed my bed followed by two more,
the bugle boy stood and looked ahead, and then fell to the floor.
Several soldiers charged pass, with bayonets fixed for attack,
passing the drummer boy one yelled, “Keep playing and don’t look back.”
With the sound of bullets in the air and shells exploding all around
soldiers charged and fell by my bed to the now distant drumming sound.
It suddenly all went quiet as everyone disappeared through the wall,
except for the drummer boy who played as he stood tall.
Tippy tap drum, tippy tap drum, tippy tap drum; a much softer beat,
he then looked at me with tears in his eyes, as he faded at my feet.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Feet First
i came into this world feet first
they told my mother
out of her three sons, i would be the one
always on the run.
i'd go through life without a care
the thoughts i had, i would not share.
i never stood around long enough for
anyone to get close to me
for too much pain i did see.
i joined the army, so i would not be
close to any family.
little did i know that my thoughts would change
and from here on, i would never be the same.
i played the field with all the girls
and told them whatever they wanted to hear.
but i also made it quite clear
that i was a man on the run
and not be put under the gun.
i was like the wind, here one minute and
gone the next, and i would not be a sacrificial test.
til the day that i went to the company dance
and glanced across the floor.
there she stood proud as can be
just as if she was waiting for me.
i walked across the floor like a fox
waiting for its prey.
she looked at me, and told me to go away.
astounded, dumbfounded, i could not believe.
i did this to others, not them to me.
i sucked in the air and put out my chest
of me she would not get the best.
i walked over to her again and asked her to dance
she looked at me and said 'not a chance'
my friends tell me that you're always on the run
but with me, you will have no fun.
i was born feet first just like you
but at least i knew what to do.
i know when to slow down and make it last
i don't dwindle on the past.
you're getting older and it's time
to settle down
but not one, with whom you've found.
because you have seen a lot of pain
does'nt mean that everyones the same.
open your heart so that you could see
all the beauty thats within me.
i apologized and asked if we could
start from scratch
for my ways i had to patch.
we started it off very slow
and i knew i had a long way to go.
but if i had her by my side
everything would turn out fine.
i told my family what i found.
and that i was settling down.
then i said to my family:
this is a comical, egotistical story
there is no fame, there is no glory.
i came out on the run, and now i'm
enjoying life, and having fun.
poem by Louis Rams
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Grownup
(carly simon)
I stood in the doorway in my white nightgown
Red roses on cotton, I stood three feet from the ground
The grownups inside used words I didnt know
But still I enjoyed the show
They looked so lovely, they looked so self-assured
And I just like them would know it all when I matured
And I wouldnt be afraid of the darkness or the bears
Or the cracks in the ceiling upstairs
Now Ive just gotten older, Ive just gotten taller
And the little ones, they call me a grownup
Lat night at a friends house a little girl was there
She stood in the doorway playing with her hair
She looked up to me as if I could do no wrong
As I got up to sing my song
I sang it with a shiver in my throat and in my knees
Feeling just as small as a thistle in a breeze
But the childs imagination carried me along
And saw me through my song
Now Ive just gotten older, Ive just gotten taller
And the little ones call me a grownup
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Love In A Mirror
She stood there
looking at herself...
at the beauty God bestowed on her
in front of this mirror
I stood behind her, wrapping my soul around her
my dark brown arms against her pale skin,
covering her nakedness
in front of this mirror
Our bodies stirred, feeling the fire
remembering our lovemaking earlier,
and previous times we have stood here
in front of this mirror
Like this very moment, her eyes
arresting me, her soul possessing me,
the warmth of my body against hers
in front of this mirror
poem by Pablo Loves Life
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Cheated The Devil
there death stood at my front door
knocking, knocking, and trying to get in
standing outside with a fastidious grin.
he said it was close to that time for me to go.
that i was at deaths door, 'BUT I DID'NT KNOW'
i ignored my body and all the signs
i should have listened, i had the time.
now i'm laying on the ground
no one to turn to, no one around.
no strength to scream, can't make a sound.
i'm gasping for air, and a heavy pain in my chest
is this where i'll die, and be laid to rest.
grasping my chest, i turned slowly around
there an angel stood, not making a sound.
then i heard him whisper in my ear:
i gave you the signs which you chose to ignore
should i give you another chance
and pick you up from the floor?
i pleaded with him 'please let me stay'
i'll listen to you and i'll change my way.
with a smile and touch, the pain went away
i got up then and began to pray.
the doctors said it was a HEART ATTACK
i cheated the devil on this particular day
i laughed as he turned his back and walked away.
LISTEN FOR THE SIGNS.
poem by Louis Rams
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