The Spider As My Analogy For You
the black spider
with a yellow mouth
and invisible tongue
early in the morning
on the jack-fruit tree
webs its house, so
beautifully transparent
against the sun
it is art and functional
at the same time
a house of beauty
and a trap for prey
a fly is trapped and
breakfast is ready
at the center table of
its creation
full, the spider basks
in the rain as i watch it
still thinking about you
and your house of lies.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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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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A Spider and A Fly
One day a spider said to a fly
'Though you pass this way daily
My hut has never been honored by you
By making a chance visit inside by you
Though depriving strangers of a visit does not matter
Evading the near and dear ones does not look good
My house will be honored by a visit by you
A ladder is before you if you decide to step in
Hearing this the fly said to the spider,
'Sire, you should entice some simpleton thus
This fly would never be pulled into your net
Whoever climbed your net could never step down'
The spider said, 'How strange, you consider me a cheat
I have never seen a simpleton like you in the world
I only wanted to entertain you
I had no personal gain in view
You have come flying from some unknown distant place
Resting for a while in my house would not harm you
Many things in this house are worth your seeing
Though apparently a humble hut you are seeing
Dainty drapes are hanging from the doors
And I have decorated the walls with mirrors
Beddings are available for guests' comforts
Not to everyone's lot do fall these comforts'.
The fly said, 'All this may very well be
But do not expect me to enter your house
'May God protect me from these soft beds
Once asleep in them getting up again is impossible'
The spider spoke to itself on hearing this talk
'How to trap it? This wretched fellow is clever
Many desires are fulfilled with flattery in the world
All in the world are enslaved with flattery'
Thinking this the spider spoke to the fly thus!
'Madam, God has bestowed great honors on you!
Everyone loves your beautiful face
Even if someone sees you for the first time
Your eyes look like clusters of glittering diamonds
God has adorned your beautiful head with a plume
This beauty, this dress, this elegance, this neatness!
And all this is very much enhanced by singing in flight'.
The fly was touched by this flattery
And spoke, 'I do not fear you any more
I hate the habit of declining requests
Disappointing somebody is bad indeed'
Saying this it flew from its place
When it got close the spider snapped it
The spider had been starving for many days
The fly provided a good leisurely meal
poem by Allama Muhammad Iqbal
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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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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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Astonishing Forest
Where the house filled with living
The house continuously giving
Where the house filled with nature
The house filled with adventure
Anything can survive
With the nature it provides
Where the house filled with grass
The house filled with hedges, bushes and plants
Canopy trees be it rain or shine
Will be there for you at any time
Where the green house filled with fresh air
Will shelter you in the heavy rain
O the house of beauty
O the house of sound
So much variety is yet to be found
poem by Sehar Zaman
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The Houses
1898 -- A Song of the Dominions
'Twixt my house and thy house the pathway is broad,
In thy house or my house is half the world's hoard;
By my house and thy house hangs all the world's fate,
On thy house and my house lies half the world's hate.
For my house and thy house no help shall we find
Save thy house and my house -- kin cleaving to kind;
If my house be taken, thine tumbleth anon.
If thy house be forfeit, mine followeth soon.
'Twixt my house and thy house what talk can there be
Of headship or lordship, or service or fee?
Since my house to thy house no greater can send
Than thy house to my house -- friend comforting friend;
And thy house to my house no meaner can bring
Than my house to thy house -- King counselling King.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Pagan Place
Jer Bear and Mikey Mouse,
smoked pot in Pagan house.
Pagan house had bugs inside,
and rats that crawled the sides,
now this is where I used to reside.
Spider woman lived below me
with clothes black and white,
and Top Dog in front house
blasting radio into the night.
It was the Pagan House with
Stories that were a disgrace,
it was a weird and crazy place.
My pup Shieka was stolen on
The sidewalk,
across from the table where
I used to talk…to Lu Lu who
told me a thing or two.
Luckily Sheikee my new pup
showed up,
Just that week,
she was shy and meek.
These were my best memories,
on Ocean Breeze.
Written by Christina Sunrise on Feb.7,2011
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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Pagan Place
Jer Bear and Mikey Mouse,
smoked pot in Pagan house.
Pagan house had bugs inside,
and rats that crawled the sides,
now this is where I used to reside.
Spider woman lived below me
with clothes black and white,
and Top Dog in front house
blasting radio into the night.
It was the Pagan House with
Stories that were a disgrace,
it was a weird and crazy place.
My pup Shieka was stolen on
The sidewalk,
across from the table where
I used to talk…to Lu Lu who
told me a thing or two.
Luckily Sheikee my new pup
showed up,
Just that week,
she was shy and meek.
These were my best memories,
on Ocean Breeze.
Written by Christina Sunrise on Feb.7,2011
poem by Christina Sunrise
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A Need For A New House....Or Home...
early morning
when the doors are still closed and the windows still tipsy
like the whole house
you fly away
the sun comes out with the clouds
early morning you fly away
away from it all
the clouds are floors and grasses
and you are a lonely bird among a flock of chairs
early morning you fly away
thinking about nothing
you fly away and you feel like a leaf inside
that gentle beast
it is a ride-awA Need For A New House....Or Home...ay
among the paradoxes of life
and its ironies
early morning there is this flight that takes you to a stop-over
of your life
no one knows that you are grieving
over a search for what you feel
the one you had which you lost
intentionally
among the flock of chairs landing early morning
on unstable floors
early morning you take a cab
you choose still
which house
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Licia Sonnets 48
I saw, sweet Licia, when the spider ran
Within your house to weave a worthless web,
You present were and feared her with your fan,
So that amazéd speedily she fled.
She in your house such sweet perfumes did smell,
And heard the Muses with their notes refined,
Thus filled with envy, could no longer dwell,
But straight returned and at your house repined.
Then tell me, spider, why of late I saw
Thee lose thy poison, and thy bowels gone;
Did these enchant and keep thy limbs in awe,
And made thy forces to be small or none?
No, no, thou didst by chance my Licia see,
Who for her look Minerva seemed to thee
poem by Giles Fletcher The Elder
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The Prey
early this morning
when i go out of my room
into a garden of trees
and stones
there with all fidelity
the spider is
spinning its web again
in the most usual
and visible manner
connecting a transparent
line from a twig
to another twig of the same
tree
soon another fly
or mosquito shall be caught
as its
unwary prey
the victim never learns
a thing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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For The Happy Housemaid...
early morning
the housemaid turns on the radio
in full volume that the
neighbors know that
she is already awake
and cooking breakfast
the house smells fried
egg and bacon and
steamed rice
when i come out my room
she smiles and
turns off the radio and
says that breakfast is
ready
only to be told that
no one likes to eat breakfast
(unlike the two the housemaid
likes it much to eat all these matters
alone by herself,
she is attuned like a loud radio
early morning
and she does not mind what
the housemaids' neighbors say)
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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Early In The Morning
Early in the morning and I cant get right
Had a little date with my baby last night
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Now its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to all the places where we used to go
Went to your house but you dont live there no more
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to your friends house but she was out
Knock on your fathers door and he began to shout get out there boy
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to doogie chain to get something to eat
Waiter looked at me and said you sure look beat
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Every House
Every house has a sun and moon,
And a little porcelain cup,
And a little silver spoon;
Every house has laughter and pain,
And feels the kiss of a needed rain.
Every house has a pet or two,
A cat in the tree,
A dove that coo;
Every house has a little mouse,
Lives in a hole he never comes out.
Every house has a window or two,
And some grass and trees,
And a sky that's blue;
Every house has a child that dreams,
As he plucks at raw reality's seams.
poem by Patti Masterman
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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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Little Yellow Butterfly
Oh, liitle yellow butterfly
to this lonely house
please come in
and let your shadow
fill the empty wall
as I watch closely
till I fall asleep.
Oh, little yellow butterfly
to this lonely house
please come in
and change the color of my life
with your tiny yellow wings.
Oh, little yellow butterfly
to this lonely house
please come in
I have prepared flowers for you
so you can stay with me
without being lonely.
Oh, little yellow butterfly
to this lonely house
please come in.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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