The Cobweb
A few minutes ago, I stepped onto the deck
of the house. From there I could see and hear the water,
and everything that's happened to me all these years.
It was hot and still. The tide was out.
No birds sang. As I leaned against the railing
a cobweb touched my forehead.
It caught in my hair. No one can blame me that I turned
and went inside. There was no wind. The sea
was dead calm. I hung the cobweb from the lampshade.
Where I watch it shudder now and then when my breath
touches it. A fine thread. Intricate.
Before long, before anyone realizes,
I'll be gone from here.
Anonymous submission.
poem by Raymond Clevie Carver
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Thread
Something is very gently,
invisibly, silently,
pulling at me-a thread
or net of threads
finer than cobweb and as
elastic. I haven't tried
the strength of it. No barbed hook
pierced and tore me. Was it
not long ago this thread
began to draw me? Or
way back? Was I
born with its knot about my
neck, a bridle? Not fear
but a stirring
of wonder makes me
catch my breath when I feel
the tug of it when I thought
it had loosened itself and gone.
poem by Denise Levertov
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An Afternoon
As he writes, without looking at the sea,
he feels the tip of his pen begin to tremble.
The tide is going out across the shingle.
But it isn't that. No,
it's because at that moment she chooses
to walk into the room without any clothes on.
Drowsy, not even sure where she is
for a moment. She waves the hair from her forehead.
Sits on the toilet with her eyes closed,
head down. Legs sprawled. He sees her
through the doorway. Maybe
she's remembering what happened that morning.
For after a time, she opens one eye and looks at him.
And sweetly smiles.
Anonymous submission.
poem by Raymond Clevie Carver
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Friends tie their purse with a cobweb thread.
Stone Dead Forever
(originally recorded by motorhead)
Get on!
You think you see me, in the glass
You think you hear me, better listen fast
I think I see you, gone to seed
Think your reason, is your guilt and greed
Youre out there on your own
Your face is turned to stone
What ever happened to your life?
Stone dead forever
All right!
Youre a financial wizard, yeah, a top tycoon
Youre a sweet long lizard, with a silver spoon
You know youve never had it, quite so good
And you didnt know, that you even could
Your time has come to own
Your touch turned to gold
What ever happened to your life?
Stone dead forever
All right!
Its been a long time, its been a long long wait
And you caught your fingers, in the pearly gates
You better leave your number, and well call you
You know your problem, aint exactly new
Your time has come today
Your face has turned to hay
What ever happened to your life?
Stone dead forever
Thats right!
Yo!
[aaah...]
song performed by by Metallica
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This House Is Not For Sale
Tell 'em that the house is not for sale
We're still livin' here, how come nobody can tell
They're takin' all the furniture, movin' our things
Come on little honey, put your head on my knee
Tell 'em that the house is not for sale
And calm down, calm down, calm down
Calm down, calm down, calm down
Do you remember when we even bought this thing?
I danced you across the wooden floor and you signed the lease
What happened in the car that night?
What happened in the car that night?
Tell 'em that the house is not for sale
And calm down, calm down, calm down
Calm down, calm down, calm down
Calm down
Tell 'em that the house is not for sale
We could grab a couple sheets, yeah, give 'em quite a scare
I remember lyin' on the bedroom floor
You were holding me, little honey, kissin' my soul
Tell 'em that the house is not for sale
And calm down, calm down, calm down
Calm down, calm down, calm down
Calm down
Calm down
song performed by by Ryan Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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25 Minutes To Go
They're buildin' the gallows outside my cell.
I got 25 minutes to go.
And in 25 minutes I'll be in Hell.
I got 24 minutes to go.
Well, they give me some beans for my last meal.
23 minutes to go.
And you know... nobody asked me how I feel.
I got 22 minutes to go.
So, I wrote to the Gov'nor... the whole damned bunch.
Ahhh... 21 minutes to go.
And I call up the Mayor, and he's out to lunch.
I got 20 more minutes to go.
Well, the Sheriff says, 'Boy, I wanna watch you die'.
19 minutes to go.
I laugh in his face... and I spit in his eye.
I got 18 minutes to go.
Well...I call out to the Warden to hear my plea.
17 minute to go.
He says, 'Call me back in a week or three.
You've got 16 minutes to go.'
Well, my lawyer says he's sorry he missed my case.
Mmmm....15 minutes to go.
Yeah, well if you're so sorry, come up and take my place.
I got 14 minutes to go.
Well, now here comes the padre to save my soul
With 13 minutes to go.
And he's talkin' about burnin', but I'm so damned cold.
I got 12 more minutes to go.
Now they're testin' the trap. It chills my spine.
I got 11 minutes to go.
'Cuz the goddamned thing it works just fine.
I got 10 more minutes to go.
I'm waitin' for the pardon... gonna set me free
With 9 more minutes to go.
But this ain't the movies, so to hell with me.
I got 8 more minutes to go.
And now I'm climbin up the ladder with a scaffold peg
With 7 more minutes to go.
I've betta' watch my step or else I'll break my leg.
I got 6 more minutes to go.
Yeah... with my feet on the trap and my head in the noose...
5 more minutes to go.
Well, c'mon somethin' and cut me loose.
I got 4 more minutes to go.
I can see the mountains. I see the sky.
3 more minutes to go.
And it's too damned pretty for a man to die.
i got 2 more minutes to go
I can hear the buzzards... hear the crows.
1 more minute to go.
And now I'm swingin' and here I gooooooooo....
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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The Doer Of Good
It was night-time and He was alone.
And He saw afar-off the walls of a round city and went towards the
city.
And when He came near He heard within the city the tread of the
feet of joy, and the laughter of the mouth of gladness and the loud
noise of many lutes. And He knocked at the gate and certain of the
gate-keepers opened to Him.
And He beheld a house that was of marble and had fair pillars of
marble before it. The pillars were hung with garlands, and within
and without there were torches of cedar. And He entered the house.
And when He had passed through the hall of chalcedony and the hall
of jasper, and reached the long hall of feasting, He saw lying on a
couch of sea-purple one whose hair was crowned with red roses and
whose lips were red with wine.
And He went behind him and touched him on the shoulder and said to
him, 'Why do you live like this?'
And the young man turned round and recognised Him, and made answer
and said, 'But I was a leper once, and you healed me. How else
should I live?'
And He passed out of the house and went again into the street.
And after a little while He saw one whose face and raiment were
painted and whose feet were shod with pearls. And behind her came,
slowly as a hunter, a young man who wore a cloak of two colours.
Now the face of the woman was as the fair face of an idol, and the
eyes of the young man were bright with lust.
And He followed swiftly and touched the hand of the young man and
said to him, 'Why do you look at this woman and in such wise?'
And the young man turned round and recognised Him and said, 'But I
was blind once, and you gave me sight. At what else should I
look?'
And He ran forward and touched the painted raiment of the woman and
said to her, 'Is there no other way in which to walk save the way
of sin?'
And the woman turned round and recognised Him, and laughed and
said, 'But you forgave me my sins, and the way is a pleasant way.'
And He passed out of the city.
And when He had passed out of the city He saw seated by the
roadside a young man who was weeping.
And He went towards him and touched the long locks of his hair and
said to him, 'Why are you weeping?'
And the young man looked up and recognised Him and made answer,
'But I was dead once, and you raised me from the dead. What else
should I do but weep?'
poem by Oscar Wilde
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Chesterfield King
We stood in your room and laughed out loud.
Suddenly the laughter died and we were caught in an eye to eye.
We sat on the floor and did we sit close. I could smell your thoughts and thought. do you want to touch a lot like me? too scared to say a thing. I left your house and kicked myself. I put those
Ings on a shelf to die. I guess Im not a gambling type but think of what the two of us had lost.
Had lost.
I needed some time to think it out. 7-eleven parking lot. a toothless woman turned and stopped. I gave her a dime and a chesterfield. she leaned down and kissed my cheek. I was scared but it fel
Et.
Felt so sweet.
She asked me if I had a name. I told her I was glued up on some chick. we sat and smoked against the wall.
Drank a beer, felt the chill of fall.
Of fall.
I took my car and drove it down the hill by your house. I drove so fast. the wind it couldnt cool me down, so I turned it around and came back up. you were waiting on your step, steam showing o
Ur breath and water in your eyes. we pulled each other into one, parkas clinging on the lawn and kissed right there.
Said all my chicks they smoke these things and handed you a chesterfield king. held your hand and watched tv and traced the little lines along your palm.
Your palm.
I took my car and drove it down the hill by your house.
I drove so fast.
The wind it couldnt cool me down, so I turned it around
And came back up.
You were waiting on your step, steam showing off your breath
And water in your eyes.
We pulled each other into one, parkas
Clinging on the lawn and kissed right there.
Right there.
song performed by by Face To Face
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There Is A Spell In Autumn
There is a spell in autumn early,
One all too brief, of an enchantment rare:
The nights are radiant and pearly,
The days, pellucid, crystal-clear.
Where played the sickle and fell the corn, a mellow,
A warm and breathless stillness reigns supreme;
Spanning the brown and idle furrow,
A dainty thread of cobweb gleams.
The birds have flown, we hear no more their clamour,
But winter's angry winds not soon will start to blow -
Upon the empty fields there pours the azure glow
Of skies that have not lost the warmth of summer.
poem by Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev
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The cobweb pretends to catch dew-drops and catches flies.
aphorism by Rabindranath Tagore from Stray Birds (1916), translated by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Kids Kidnapped
Can you hear them scream?
Outside the street,
just hear them play?
there everywhere, playin
whatever's on there mind,
Can you hear them still?
is gettin dark
but they wanna stay outside
cause there havin fun
what they dont kno
is whats gonna happen next;
They should've gone inside
when mom told them to..
When silence arrives
Mom listens but she can't
hear them play..
there's noone outside
mom wonders what happened
She goes outside
but the kid's aint there
she looks inside. but
they ain there
she asks herself
Where are they? ?
They scream for help,
there far away
now they've one thing
one there little mind..
''we should've gone inside
when mom told us to''
now we are with someone else
that we dont like
When dad gets home
Mom told dad
what just happened
Dad got mad
but deep inside worried
and looks for the kids
but there far away now
they aint alright
cause they shouldve gone inside
they miss mom says
kids go inside!
Now you'll never hear them play cause
there far away and dead
They tried to ran away
but they got shot on there little forehead
the last thing they thought of was..
''They should've gone inside when mom told them to''
They miss mom and dad
there cold cause there burried now
but they only want to go play outside
one more time.
poem by Alex Rodriguez
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Absence
My shadow --
I woke to a wind swirling the curtains light and dark
and the birds twittering on the roofs, I lay cold
in the early light in my room high over London.
What fear was it that made the wind sound like a fire
so that I got up and looked out half-asleep
at the calm rows of street-lights fading far below?
Without fire
Only the wind blew.
But in the dream I woke from, you
came running through the traffic, tugging me, clinging
to my elbow, your eyes spoke
what I could not grasp --
Nothing, if you were here!
The wind of the early quiet
merges slowly now with a thousand rolling wheels.
The lights are out, the air is loud.
It is an ordinary January day.
My shadow, do you hear the streets?
Are you at my heels? Are you here?
And I throw back the sheets.
Anonymous Submission
poem by Edwin Morgan
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You Hung Me
It's dead, it'd dead you killed it all
you fucked me over, you watched me fall
the life you sucked right out of me
dead you hung me from tree.
My blood spills out onto the ground
it screams, it cries without a sound
there is no victory here for me
dead you hung me from a tree.
You can run but you can't hide
you'll try to say it's suicide
torn apart for all to see
dead you hung me from a tree.
I'll prove to you your world is wrong
your power has gone on way to long
watch my body swing so free
dead you hung me from a tree.
Free from you I find my peace
in a grave that's six feet deep
the cage unlocked, I found the key
dead you hung me from a tree.
poem by CJA Anderson
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Strive Not, Vain Lover
I.
Strive not, vain lover, to be fine;
Thy silk's the silk-worm's, and not thine:
You lessen to a fly your mistriss' thought,
To think it may be in a cobweb caught.
What, though her thin transparent lawn
Thy heart in a strong net hath drawn:
Not all the arms the god of fire ere made
Can the soft bulwarks of nak'd love invade.
II.
Be truly fine, then, and yourself dress
In her fair soul's immac'late glass.
Then by reflection you may have the bliss
Perhaps to see what a true fineness is;
When all your gawderies will fit
Those only that are poor in wit.
She that a clinquant outside doth adore,
Dotes on a gilded statue and no more.
poem by Richard Lovelace
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Song
I.
Strive not, vain lover, to be fine;
Thy silk's the silk-worm's, and not thine:
You lessen to a fly your mistriss' thought,
To think it may be in a cobweb caught.
What, though her thin transparent lawn
Thy heart in a strong net hath drawn:
Not all the arms the god of fire ere made
Can the soft bulwarks of nak'd love invade.
II.
Be truly fine, then, and yourself dress
In her fair soul's immac'late glass.
Then by reflection you may have the bliss
Perhaps to see what a true fineness is;
When all your gawderies will fit
Those only that are poor in wit.
She that a clinquant outside doth adore,
Dotes on a gilded statue and no more.
poem by Richard Lovelace
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I Sing Last / Not For Tears
We've been told lies.
We've been herded around
Taken for rides, told that this is the one
We've learned all the steps and where do they lead
Right back to zero or not far I believe
Making history as we open our eyes
And no one's quite sure so we... We improvise
And wherever it leads us is wherever we'll go
I'd dance forever if they'd let me, you know
Wearing our hair up in anger we cry
The revolutions dead it went out in style
The children are learning much faster than we
Soon they'll be older but then again, so will we
Time has come for each of us to decide
To follow blindly or to step out of line
The party is over it has been for years
Let's use the water to wash up, not for tears
Seems such a pity
It seemed we had the same dream
And thinking of things past
You sang first I sang last
You sang first I sang last
You sang first I sang last
song performed by by Men Without Hats
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spider web
There’s a spider web
of which parts got on your hair
and you are alarmed by it
and I take fine silk from your hair
while you look big eyed at me
and your lips are open
as if you are gasping for breath.
The wind blows a branch
whipping up and down,
but it’s unnoticed
by us both.
Your eyes are caught by the spider web
on which two spiders
are rocking in the wind
and I am caught,
with the look in your golden eyes
and your open lips that are inviting
and a small leave hanging on your cheek.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Love Of Light....
upon the window of trees
i rest my weary eyes, the aches dissipate on the leaves
my forehead rests on the hands of the wind,
i lean upon the walls of this house
the comfort zone of the mind
the roof beats like a heart and opens its breast
to the soft touches of the clouds
happier in blue
and then the black birds come with the sweeter sounds
of the flapping of their wings
how happy is this state
of my soul
sitting upon the friendly bone of my body
the light of the sun
lands upon my hair
i am as always and will always be
its respecter and
friend.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Morning Call
The silken thread of a cobweb
catches the first drops of morning dew.
They hang like a string of jewels
to sparkle in the first rays of the sun.
The fragrance of an awaking rose
whose scent wafts through the morning air,
as its petals unfurl one by one
to greet the morning sun.
The chorus of the morning birds
whose sweet song of praise,
rejoice the waking of a brand new day,
then alight to fly the freeways of the sky.
The sleepy head tucked in bed
listen for the alarm clock’s wake up call,
but when it sounds, they want to remain
where they are, missing the wonder of it all.
poem by David Harris
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