7 comments on “Poem Of The Week – Spider

  1. Silk

    Climbing up a wall or tree,
    The spider’s looking down at me.

    Her eyes are red, then they are green,
    With the changing light, she’s a sight to be seen.

    Legs tiptoeing across the twig,
    To the thin piece of wood, she quite big.

    Finds the edge, then takes a leap,
    To her its scary, but she doesn’t utter a peep.

    Behind her streams a silvery line,
    Its her tool: this silk that’s so fine.

    It catches her before she falls,
    For a moment there’s silence, until a bird calls.

    Now that her project has now begun,
    You can see she’s far from done.

    Climbing back up her silvery threads,
    Now’s she going up, and it’s onward she treads.

    She drops in another breathtaking jump,
    Running into a tree with the softest thump.

    Turning around, she bounces off,
    If she could talk, I’m sure would scoff:

    “This job may be long, it’s worth it all, for no hunter can get me from this tree so tall!”

    Pushing away from the hard wooden tree,
    The spider flies right in front of me!

    Behind her she carries a line made of silk,
    A delicate thread that’s the color of milk.

    Soon you can see that she’s weaving her home,
    A silken web that she can call her own.

    She pictures dew on the sparkling strings,
    Like a crystal palace built for kings.

    Day and night she continues to weave,
    Building a home is what she wants to achieve.

    Sunrise tomorrow and she’ll be done,
    With a wonderful web glistening in the sun.

    • Nice job, Taylor. You capture the spider at work very well. Spiders are fascinating creatures. I marvel at how such small animals inheret the ability to spin webs like their parents before them.



  2. David, cute poem. I love to watch spiders build their webs.

    Taylor, I enjoyed the life story of the spider. Well done!

    Here is my little poem:

    The tiny lightning bug
    in the dark night sky
    will say goodby
    in moring’s
    bright sunlight.

    • Hello Mary Nida,

      Thank you for your gift of the firefly poem. I saw an insect the other day that looked like a firefly but I guess it’s still a bit early for them.

      I like the poem!


      • Thank you David. I love the illustration of you poem. The more I thought of a spider
        having its own language, made the kid in me wonder if they do. My spiders run away and never stop to talk.


    Each seventeen years
    Locusts swarm. A roaring thrum.
    Loud! Cover your ears.

    When writing haiku,
    Use seventeen syllables.
    Make all the words count.

    Locusts and haiku.
    Both need seventeen. How strange.
    Coincidence? Hmmm.

    The locusts have gone.
    Quiet now. Seventeen years
    To buy some earplugs.

    • Greetings, Laurie!

      How nice to hear from you and in haiku at that. How clever to note the magic number for both cicadas and haiku.

      Thanks for sharing this, and I look forward to meeting you in New Jersey.


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