Best Cobwebbed Poems
Let not my heart become in my old age
"An empty room, cobwebbed, and comfortless"
But an open sunny porch, a welcome sage
A loving heart to those in distress
Let not my pain sabotage my soft heart
Let me remain a gentle, kind spirit
Writing a course of good 'pon my sea chart
Let love from heart's depths to God submit
Enjoining to You oh Holy Spirit
Flow through me like a circuit open ended
This vessel delights in your benefits
Let the love seed grow with fastest speed
Let my heart not be controlled by body's pain
Fill my heart with Thy love 'til it can't contain
"An empty room, cobwebbed, and comfortless"
Direct quote from Edna St. Vincent Millay
It was in more than one of her works..
Categories:
cobwebbed, introspection, love,
Form:
Sonnet
I crawl into a cave called myself.
It’s dry and dusty, cobwebbed.
So afraid to be, alone in the dark,
“Who am I,” is my cry.
Then Trixie’s best friend comes along,*
like a cowgirl set out on a romantic adventure.
This changeling becomes a pirate or
a faerie tale...mingling with the deer and frogs.
but not too sweet, ‘cause she’s a spark plug.
She squeezes out a saturated rag of tears and snot,
for this cowgirl spots the forgotten one -
a little child who needs a hug,
and she has a way of embracing the child in me.
...and her poetry like taffy pulls,
twists in a delicious way, half-cocked.
I’ve learned from her to grab the stars and fly
as if Tinkerbell dusted me with rare pastels.
In my mind we’re dressed in
kicka$$ gowns and fascinators
merrily sipping sherry in
the garden of Make-Believe.
And by the way, I love my souper friends. Don’t feel left out.
So many touch me in so many ways. God bless you all.
And one last shout out to Caren Krutsinger!
Categories:
cobwebbed, friend,
Form:
Free verse
Little as a mountain can be,
near waters calm and an idling breeze.
Inland wheatfields sun on ears,
expanding 45 gallon cans suppressed echoes hear.
Semi's engine drone all day to the railhead clear,
sweat running on flesh like honeyed tears.
Sweet and fetid the elder scent
canvas hats the horizon swimming and bent
mealy lung invading dryness thick,
creaking timberd floor and a rustling''quick''
then quietude..as a sunbeam falls,
on wheat shed door and cobwebbed wall.
Categories:
cobwebbed, life
Form:
Free verse
Playing
Russian roulette
With fate
Fateful
The hand that tempts
And flirts
Flirting
With the shadows
Of death
Deathly
Silence that lurks
And creeps
Creeping
Through cobwebbed paths
Of doubt
Doubtful
Uncertainty
Sets in
Inner
Feelings torment
And gnaw
Gnawing
At self belief
Bleeding
Blood flows
Slowly in drips
It ends
Ending
Russian roulette
With fate
--------------------------------
Contest: Mussetle Train
Sponsor: Richard Lamoureux
Placed: 1st
Categories:
cobwebbed, death,
Form:
Verse
Creative musing enthralls her psyche,
minute thoughts dance before her eyes,
waiting to be written before they
go astray within the confines of the mind
where cobwebbed effigies shadow her
enlightenment.
Gestation occurs, words labor to be born,
one minute adhering to the womb of her intellect,
the next forcing their way through her artistic
birth canal shouting to be heard
and shared by others who utter joy at the
rebirth.
Categories:
cobwebbed, passion,
Form:
Who would answer if I knocked?
A little gnome in stripey socks.
Would he call out, “ Who dares to knock.”?
Or sic on me his pet blue fox.
Would it be a lonely hobbit
wearing cobbled boots he wears by habit
and a cobwebbed hat of furry rabbit
Sipping mead from a wobbly goblet?
It doesn’t look like a fairy would
for it isn’t decked how a fairy twould
with childhood dreams and elfinwood
Convinced I am of the likelihood.
Who ever lives in this tiny abode
Their door to the world has long been closed.
Where a peaceful meadow once outflowed,
Paved up to the door by a busy road.
Categories:
cobwebbed, childhood, fantasy, humanity,
Form:
Monorhyme
i feel so settled in your presence
it seems so definitively calm here
i want to go on excursions never experienced with you and just discover
once upon a time i was a lonely soul yearning for any type of communication
i remember the footprints in the dust at every corner that had the scent of stale talcum powder
i remember the cable fluctuating between being off and on every other another
i remember listening to my old walkman under a few layers of cover when the power was cut off on a very cold day in winter
i recall sitting in the dark of my dusty, cobwebbed apartment letting the streetlight conceal the truth of my loneliness
i recall the draft coming into the screen in the living room and becoming painfully dizzy from daydreaming
i heard creaks on the stair steps and crackling in the walls
even introverted the darkness has a thousand eyes to truly see
even in hiding i cannot hide the from the strong stance stare of the obvious
knowing this, i decide to take a chance to makes bells ring like the freedom flapping of each wing....
....i feel so settled in your presence
it seems so definitively calm here
i want to go on excursions never experienced with you and just discover....
Categories:
cobwebbed, dedication, for her,
Form:
Free verse
In back of the crowd looking on
dreaming of being out in front
no longer lingering in shadows
of one like you
Eyes fixated on pirouettes
every step in perfection
lace floating through air
letting out you
Flights fought in fright
feet trapped in cobwebbed lies
wishing to be like that
where one can fly
Courage dipped in spiked punch
enough to disappear
lost in pristine palace halls
midnight echoes call
Running past doubts
that trickle tirelessly
freedom never lasting
never catching
not ever reaching for you
In back of a crowded room
I still look on
Categories:
cobwebbed, fear,
Form:
Free verse
I wander through its corridors
And up its winding stairs
I enter cobwebbed rooms
And find the yesteryears
I wander through its seasons
And find my autumn there
The leaves are falling slowly
Yet there is no time to spare
I wander through its canyon
And find a river running deep
There is no time to linger
The subconscious never sleeps
I wander through its pathways
A never ending maze
Ideas seem to spring forth
Imagination has its ways!
1-3-2022
Categories:
cobwebbed, imagination, river,
Form:
Quatrain
Today I received a communique; return address was : Heaven Sent.
I nervously tore it open: that’s were my WIFE -- LENORE went.
“My Dearest and Only Beloved“, {that’s what LENORE called me.}
I seemed to hear HER loving voice, HER angelic Face I see.
I’m here in Heaven; I love you still, I’m Fine and doing well.
Serenity, Tranquillity, with nothing e’er to fear.
Be good; so you can join ME; DO NOT go to HELL.
Dry your eyes, find someone new, weep ME no more tears.
Open the cobwebbed shutters, raise the dusty blind.
Wash down the dirty windows, You’ll see the bright sunshine.
Let ME take away Your Sorrow : take away Your PAIN.
I’ll leave MY LOVE with You; So You can Love AGAIN.
Invite the World to Your house. Find a SPECIAL FRIEND.
Inspired by and Dedicated to: Carol Brown THANK--YOU
Categories:
cobwebbed, devotion, friendship, life, love,
Form:
Rhyme
Blank sheet, taunting me
Daring the person I used to be
To blurt it out, let words flow free
But too deep into my insecurity
I have drowned, no hope for me
What happened to my pen and pad therapy
My safe place, infiltrated by doubt
Nothing from within, brave enough to come out
Generic pairings of letters seeking clout
Simple ramblings, who knows what they’re about
Any ounce of approval, no matter the amount
Rusty thoughts like the abandoned Tin Man
Cobwebbed brain needing “oil can”
Hoping out there is just one fan
Follow through, girl, you made a plan
Categories:
cobwebbed, anxiety, betrayal, depression, mental
Form:
Rhyme
The Rocking Chair That Keeps…
Up in the attic, there’s something or someone
that keeps creating an eerie, dreary air:
for the darkness is greedy
as it smothers a world of mystery,
a century of family history,
all boxed and cased
in a crust of rust and dust!
Pictures of Dad as a sprightly lad,
Gran with no wrinkle, just a youthful twinkle
and bits of me bagged and forgotten.
However, it is the empty, rocking chair
that reaches out with a squeeze of….. unease.
Yes, up in the attic, there’s something or someone
that offers, a bite of fright and a dreaded dare:
as pipes snake into secret, cobwebbed lairs
and wooden beams stream like overhead train lines
while the excitement of discovery hides in the past.
But it is the empty, rocking chair
that grips and grabs at my attention
as I sense ‘something’ harbouring its wooden frame.
Oh yes, up in the attic, there’s something or someone
that keeps, nudging and grudging with a gloomed glare:
the room suddenly trembles, my heart holds tight
but it’s only the wind galloping by at night.
Immediately a watery giggle,
gurgles the length of a pipe
increasing my midgets of fidgets.
I turn and an aged mirror offers a face of fear
but I breathe again – for it has only borrowed mine.
Up in the attic, there’s definitely something or someone
that keeps, me uneasy, even queasy, each time I am there:
for the darkness is greedy
as it smothers a world of mystery,
a century of family history,
all boxed and cased
in a crust of rust and dust!
But now…. something far more shocking,
a lone rocking chair that keeps.…rocking!
Ian Souter 2025
Categories:
cobwebbed, mystery,
Form:
Rhyme
Poor Miss Carrie was scared of anything to do with Halloween,
She’d jump at just the sheer mention of this holiday, no please
Let’s just talk about something else, but as all hollows eve
Approached, this nervous girl would stay inside and hide!
I’m not going out until it’s all done and over with she’d
Say, I’ll stay indoors where it’s nice and cozy, if you don’t
Mind just the same!
But every child has a natural curiosity, and when everyone
Was busy, she’d peek outside the window, their children
Ran up and down the streets, gathering candy, laughing
Maybe she thought it ain’t so scary after all, the child
Thought.
Gathering every bit of courage, scary Carrie ventured
Outside at last, with a pillow case in her trembling hands,
Her mother asked are you sure my little dearest, yes
I’m going to be brave, and face my fear, up and down
The cobwebbed covered block, these tiny darlings
Ran, screaming trick or treat, smell my feet or give
Me something good to eat!
Oh mother dearest, I have no proper costume to ware,
With some suet from the fireplace, we’ll fix that right
Up, a smudging here and there, an oversized dress,
With Aunt Fanny’s yellow sun hat!
Now that’s a homemade costume that’s totally
Sheik, what a sight to behold, than the fearful
Child smiled hugged her mother tightly, thank you
So much!
Running down the lane scary Carrie went running
Along joining her friends, in this holiday tradition,
Returning later on, tired but so happy, Mother
I’ve learned there is nothing to fear about Halloween
At all, and now I can’t wait until next!
Up to bed she smiled and yawned, singing a trick
Or treat bedtime song, I use to be scared of Halloween,
A regular Freddie cat, scary Carrie the other kids teased,
But now they call me fearless, and brave!
After she said her prayers that night, Carrie puckered
Her candy stash away beneath her pillow, and dreamed
About her night’s adventures, saying to her mother dearest,
I’ll never be frightened again!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Categories:
cobwebbed, adventure, courage, fear, children,
Form:
Free verse
Descending into the
catacombs of times past
I wander through
cobwebbed halls
hearing echos of you
searching in vain
everywhere empty
moths and dust.
As I wait alone in silence
I dare to open volumes
of memories shared
colors spill that
drip with feelings
and timeless moments
tumble to the floor.
My mind floods over with
thoughts of you
lest I forget those days
and my dreams turn to grey.
I feel so old
my bones ache
I am weary of waiting
as I die within
longing for the day
for you to you return…
…my saving grace.
Written on 1/22/2016
Categories:
cobwebbed, analogy, angst, i miss
Form:
Free verse
In a cobwebbed dusty corner in a dark attic void of light. Holds the essence of my being thr menories i hold dear. That's brought me where i am today and still nuture my fear.The dolls and movies and magazines the records scarred with age.The tiny five years diary.My private dreams on every page.Mememtoes from vacations packed full of summer fun.Post cards from distant places of trips not yet begun birthday cards and tickets stubs.Treasures dear to only me of value to non but I.There worth prejudged so long ago cherished till the day i die.Every scrap of paper,every letter packed awayholds a very special memory that's with me everyday.And i'll keep that part of my life with me always.Asmy life goes on and years begin to show strain i'll always have a place i can go to relive my youth again.
Categories:
cobwebbed, death, life, memory, me,
Form:
Blank verse