The Spider Yarn
The spider spins his magic web,
With dexterous skill too hard to beat,
Each yarn so carefully knit,
In crisscross fashion, amazing to view.
Like a fabric buoyant in the air,
His gossamer kingdom hangs afloat,
Supported on leaves, twigs or walls,
It stays intact, never crumbling down.
At the centre, he proudly dwells,
Like the monarch of a vast empire,
With discreet vigil, he keeps alert,
To trap the spies that cross the bounds.
The arrogant despot never allows,
Intrusion from anyone around,
Those who dare to trespass his terrain,
Are meted out with the penalty of death.
Perchance if any strand is loose,
He repairs it all at once,
Never waits for the time to pass,
Or seeks help from anyone else.
If his domain is blown amiss,
With stunning speed he sets to work,
Never ready to accept defeat,
He goes on weaving his web anew.
The spiralling spider in his web,
Spins the thread of a ‘mysterious yarn',
With an edifying moral for you and me,
To marvel over one's own work.
poem by Valsa George
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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Spider-Man
While most folks sleep when night draws near
And dream their gentle dreams,
For Spider-Man the choice is clear
Despite the mad extremes!
While justice isn't always sweet,
Nor swift to ease the pain...
For Spider-Man no easy street,
Yet no good to complain!
Folks criticise the things he does -
He works outside the law...
Yet he persists despite the fuss
To overcome each flaw!
He perseveres and truly tries -
He soldiers on each time...
A warrior who spins and flies
And strives against each crime!
With super strength and spider-sense
He clings to any wall...
He fights his foes to save his friends
With courage to stand tall!
The villains vouch he's hard to kill -
It's hard to track him down!
To see him fly is such a thrill
As he spins cross the town!
For Spider-Man it's life or death -
With safety-net in tow...
Spectators stare and hold their breath
And wonder where he'll go!
For Spider-Man the danger waits -
It's always do or die...
And even if he hesitates,
At least he wants to try!
Give him a chance! He does his best!
Somehow he serves God's plan!
Yes, if you see him, you've been blessed,
'Cos you spied a Spider-Man!
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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It's All About Survival
A spider spins its web
Using nothing but it's own
Saliva
The web is a marvelous work of art
An engineering
Feat
The spider is merely looking for food
Trying to survive
Making nothing but
A trap
Nothing
About fame or any of that
Kind
Perhaps about solitude too
And independence
That manner by which one settles peacefully
On being
left alone
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Pieces Of Fragile Lace
A spider spins a micro fine thread, her gentle web to weave,
It is with awe, that we behold this art, one can't believe
This work, viewed on a frosty morn, portrays pieces of fragile lace,
How can a tiny creature create these patterns, with silent grace.
She works with great dedication, using skills beyond belief,
Securing her thread to one, and then another sturdy leaf,
Or twig, or gate, or fence, or flower, whatever is to hand,
A magical spun gossamer, her love sealed in every strand.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Help! !
During the night whilst I was asleep
a spider has spun it’s yarn around me.
Since I woke up I’ve struggled and fought,
in vain to get my body free.
All’s not lost, I can still move my eyes
and I can see the window and door.
Help! Please someone it’s coming again,
to bind me some more.
It’s now moving over my tightened chest
as it spins its thread from left to right.
A dull humming sound comes from its jaws
whilst I struggle with all my might.
My senses warn me that it’s coming again
this time beneath my chin.
I can feel its feet and hear its breath,
as it cocoons me in.
I’m only seconds away before its yarn
covers my mouth, nose, and eyes.
Help! ! Why doesn’t anyone hear me?
Please someone, hear my cries! !
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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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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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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Life and Happiness
Happiness in life each year now,
Takes brute strength, like pushing a cow,
Pray do not ask how,
The spider spins an intricate web around life,
A magic web now is around life
Happiness is what we make it,
Life can be better than music, if we let it,
Music can fill the air with life and happiness,
There is music in life and happiness, if we let it happen,
Everyday sounds around that intricate web of life,
Protected by that magic web,
Happiness in life each year now,
Takes brute strength, like pushing a cow,
Pray do not ask how,
Take brute strength, like pushing a cow,
That intricate web around life, is magic,
Life can be enjoyed, create happiness around you,
Music can fill the air with life and happiness,
Life takes brute strength, as you imagine,
A hidden strength,
Work at life and happiness, each day, each year,
Let that spider who spins an intricate web around life,
Now a magic web, create life and happiness.
poem by Batibchar Mocculta
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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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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Unhappy Landings
A spider’s web bedecked with dew,
each crystal dropp reflecting light
Can turn a deadly trap into
a work of art for my delight
But the spider does not care.
her handiwork is not for me.
She waits in patience in her lair
for flies that cannot struggle free.
She is a supreme architect
and builds her web instinctively
She knows her business I expect
ensures she can dine frequently.
Although the flies have compound eyes
her web still takes them by surprise.
2-May-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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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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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Famine
The sinking sun is now undone,
the sky is fading red.
A spider black hides in a crack
and spins a silken thread
And babes will soon collapse and swoon,
on stones they call a bed;
With vacant eyes they fantasize
and dream of gingerbread,
And then are freed, though still in need,
from anguish of the dead.
poem by Terry O'Leary
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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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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 Amazing Spider-Man
Spider-Man has got a secret
That changed his life for good,
For he could spin a spider's net
No other human could...
Web shooting from his outstretched wrists
That forms like solid steel,
Such that he swoops and flies and twists
And captures those that steal!
Against the law of gravity
He quickly zooms ahead,
His costume's such a sight to see,
A dazzling flaming red!
Beneath the sun, the moon and stars,
He's there, the streets to scan!
Above the trees, above the cars,
He's helping where he can!
To some, he's just an enemy,
To some, he's just a friend,
A masked man who's a mystery
So hard to comprehend...
Great photographs will prove his worth
To anyone who cares,
For every legend has its birth,
Its pleasures and despairs...
Off duty, he's a normal guy,
Invisible to most,
But Spider-Man keeps soaring high
Without the need to boast...
His super strength and spider-sense
Will help him save the day,
Perhaps to gain him extra friends
Before he flies away!
So watch out, all you criminals!
Our hero's on patrol!
Behave or you'll end up as fools,
No matter what you stole!
He's out to get you, yes, indeed!
He's there to thwart your plan!
So who's the guy you've got to beat?
Amazing Spider-Man!
Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2012.
A poem celebrating the latest superhero film,
The Amazing Spider-Man in cinemas, July 2012.
Websites:
theamazingspiderman-dot-com and theamazingspiderman-dot-net
poem by Denis Martindale
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