I walked through a cobweb today
several hours ago yet she has not released me yet
she is sticky and strong
determined to keep me
I await a fly’s fate
wondering at the girth of her spider
anticipation is a killer
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
silken architect
legs tracing frost on the sill
weaving moonlight lace
A bucket of passion-with a spray of ambition.
Can be a foundation for sparkling things...
A first flight -a college degree, a newborn cry.
Gracefully treading nightmares in black-finned nights.
Turning a death rattle into melodies in pearl.
Strung along the gilded wings of infinity.
A greying wish is an opaque endeavor.
It lends the hands to idling.
Creasing the satin of reality.
Old wishes dangle wearily from the ceiling.
Like dying Faries in a cobweb dream.
Zafar Khan nay kon sa mujh say ghar kay jalay otarwanay hain,
Ye to meri shalwar otar kar mera post mortem karwana chahata.
Note.Zafar Khan Supari Killer wants me dead at any cost goliyan.
A creeping creature silent,
full of motivational spirit,
a spider is the designer of web,
the fly-trap of opportunities.
Many good chances I couldn’t catch,
so, before my time ran out,
how to weave the fabric of life for success
I wanted to learn from the art of making web.
I brought home a bag of spiders,
let one free to crawl out,
and make a cobweb I could see,
but it disappeared behind the wall clock.
In half-sleep one night
I saw the spider come out of the clock,
and I felt eerily it creep on my face,
I got a shuddering fearful shock.
I got up shaken in fright,
looked into the mirror
the spider I didn’t see,
but saw the cobweb time made on my face.
neo eld socialism
mixed eld neo liberalism
only web spiders
Cobwebs of the impossible
It was a clear day…too lucid, perhaps.
Mother sat in the kitchen; the sunlight made her white hair into a halo.
I asked how old she was?
Ninety-two, she said I knew this was not true she didn´t live that long.
By the slow river, I saw furniture drifting along,
brother said people living downstream went upstream to buy furniture
to save on transport costs they dumped the furniture in the river
and picked up when they came floating by.
Sometimes they lost a table or a commode, a risk we all have to take.
Walking along a soft road in the forest, but something was wrong
I was trapped inside a painting by a mad Russian painter,
Where trees emitted light of wonder, and my mother was 101 years old
I had a knife, cut the painting in half and walked out.
Sometimes the line between reality and subconsciousness merges
perhaps yesterday is today.
Covered with shiny beads of early morning dew
Out sparkling a d grade flawless diamond!
Busy spider has spun gossamer threads
Web builder extraordinaire is poised
Ever ready to pounce on unwary
Bugs which she will wrap in silk for her dinner!
Writing Challenge 6, March 2019 - 6 lines Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Dear Heart
3/27/19
a clever disguise
giant snowflake camouflage
spider eats tonight
Dainty gauzy cobweb holds on valiantly retaining essence
Impressing Kansas fescue grasses and lovely Queen Anne ’s lace
Not intimidated by cool northern Arctic winds
Cobweb
Patiently, intricately done
A trap for the unwary spun
With fine gossamer threads
In patterned fashion spread
By the use of fine technique
Across networks of intrigue
Causing chaos in the mind:
Fault of nature or mankind?
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Word Vision Poetry iv Contest
Hosted by Vermillion Scythe
© 21st November 2018
a cobweb in hearth...
clearing of dusty corners
...the arachnid flames
8/20/2018
Clear cobwebs from your eyes
To pave the way for progress
To grace and bless your life.
Human life a cobweb
each human a piece of thread
no thread is greater in value
no thread is lower in value
all woven to trap vitality
for mutually shared life
for meaningful existence
under the watchful eyes
of the chief craftsman
From the gate of the zip it sure will poke
cos a bare in gown saps all aeration
this jinx of self made lust isn’t a joke
fine legs can put him into commotion
sees her ins like a wool in fair mix’d coke
then the eyes stay put to this diversion
as the mind rots in the mud it is soaked
her head to toe in view for selection
the hand will love to slap a rear when near
he sees all not to be seen from a pear
and puts the mind to an aged long wear and tear
in each pump, some rise emit to blow
so much heat even amid much snow
his open face gets down to stay that low.
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