Cona Adams Poet Limerick

Always a Widow

Here squats a Black Widow spider,
who sups a swig of sweet cider.
     He spies her there,
     scoots close to share
and sips the hot brew beside 'er.

She darts with aim to devour,
her size gives her lethal power.
     She fakes a hug,
     then snags him snug;
true bliss defines his last hour.

For some who deceive are gifted
to mask when power is shifted.
     The prey's surprise—
      he's soon incised—
his parts all broken and sifted.

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Jan Allison September 3, 2014 at 5:38 PM very humourous ////OO\\\\ poor old spider hugs Jan xxx Cona Adams September 4, 2014 at 7:21 AM Thanks, Jan, for reading and commenting on my poem. It was fun to write.

J. R. Corbin September 3, 2014 at 1:47 PM Man, that has to hurt. I love a good limerick, and this is one o the best I have read in a long time. Thanks Cona. Jim Cona Adams September 3, 2014 at 4:08 PM Thanks, Jim, for reading and commenting on my poem. I've included it in my new themed book on food and drink. :-)