Short Spidery Poems

Iridescent clouds – spidery shreds of rainbow star dust...

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legs madly scurry

                heat   where    flame   trap   dry  flee   where

                                    spidery rescue



20 June 2018...

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An elderly television speaks to her
in a deaf duplex.
Her garden is a cluster of cobwebs,
it rattles and spins its gossamer skeletons
by the shade of a spidery light....

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wind whisks smoky veils
sun’s dust on spidery silk~
gossamer dreamscape

sky undresses gold 
filling the air with roses~
an opium kiss

trees adorned in brown
mirror the silent corn moon~
fallen escapade...

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My bewilderment warily moves 

Near the spidery trails of indecision 

Over cold shadowed peaks of unanswered query 

Pulses surge well within the valley of a spirit lost 

Where roots ever forge toward the fiery heart of Mother Earth...

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a
long
fragile
spidery
silver threadlike street
crossing in nature's G.P.S.
like those swinging bridges in gentle wafting breezes
temporary avenues to more hospitable environmental habitat

written January 3, 2022...

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The day to day today
A skein of yet again
Wrapped in thoughts of yester
As I contemplate the rester
And cuddle in to dream
As hidden feelings fester
To stretch this binding tether
As we face it all together
Hugging and holding
Enjoying the enfolding...

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Today I made the cake, 
cradling the bowl.
Arm aching, 
pulling at the fruit. 
Her recipe in front, spidery and sherry stained. 
And she was here.
I could feel her, smell her Christmas fragrance and
as my bicep burned she held the spoon and through it went
and she was gone....

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A night sky filled with perfume and hope
As blossoms and flowers pour out their scent
And tiny moth feet desperately grope
A night sky filled. With perfume – and hope
As the moths dodge the death of spidery rope
To deposit pollen currency, to spend every cent
A night sky filled – with perfume and hope
As dawn tears the sky, and the horizon is rent...

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Beautiful webs.

Spidery, and the spiders know everything.

Now they are cobbling cobwebs.

In a basement.

The basement is where there are sounds of leaking and creaking.

Sounds that are not meaningful.

Webbing that used to be like connections and ideas- 

That are not meaningful these days.

The webs waver a bit from the draft in this cold place.

The spiders died.

And spiders know nothing....

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Capri

roofless cubes, spidery with wire,
cakes of azure and enzian;
above at the Villa San Michele
Rilke smiles down at the broken beaches,
at coves of defiant waves, compacted sea

Pompeii

a chessboard of honest stones
open to a sky of hushed shouts;
we huddle in a boned frame
of another life, a stopped day

Napoli

warm and secret, olive-eyed
an infinite beauty makes a new face
as we gaze ape-like from our bus;
an act of moment...

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The laugh of the child
Frothy
Sugary
Rampant
Keen
Cuts through the haze
Buds forth the green
Scampered
Syrupy
Velvety
Honestly light
The laugh of the child

The cry of the babe
Frightened and lost
Snickery
Trickery
Spidery fright
Mother sooths
Early midnight
Mumbly
Kushushy
Sleepily lost

The mumble of the old man
Frothy
Brothy
Powdery
Toothlessly smacked
In arguing drivel snivel
Cracked
Yeasty
Doury
Dry
Earthbound
Dust...

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