Dying with my duty done, my life’s ambition filled,
I hear and feel the rustling from that which I did build.
Arachni-matron-me, I feasted ‘pon the mate I killed –
Before creating (lovingly?) the sac that holds my brood.
Chitinous appendages – a thousand eight-fold sets –
Scramb-ling, tearing, clawing to escape their natal nets.
Th’time is nigh, I’ll never see their thousand eye octets –
I’m glad I cannot contemplate becoming their first food.
(Poem is an "ochtfochlach", which is an Irish verse form of 8 lines. The rhyme scheme is aaab cccb.)
Written on June 2, 2023 for the "Bag of Spiders Poetry Contest".
I wonder do you feel me hold you near
When in my slumber, and I dance with you?
I wonder if you will one day appear
In mountains where I often dream of you?
In sacred circles where I pray for you;
If you should feel it echo in your heart
Like two spirits that touch the stars with dew,
Then you will know we'll never be apart.
If darkness blacked the nightly lunar chart,
Or morning sun should never rise no more
I'd find my way into your loving heart
No matter how distant that empty shore.
If you would hear the words as I adore
And hold me forever in this love's way
I would never dare ask for nothing more
Than the moment that ends the final day.
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