Web Poems

Weaving a web

Jumping timelines, 
Creating this design, 
Weaving a web to combine, 
Multiples of beings that shine, 
While I intertwine with the Divine, 
Bringing them all on line, 
A sign of the end, 
To an old frame of mind, 
Weaving webs of their own kind, 
Leaving treasures to find, 
For those walking blind, 
Through the web of

spider's web hiku

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   \(\-\ o_/- /_ )/           arms stretch like sun rays
 --(  \-\^^Oo/ -/  ) ----    swaying in morning waltzes ~
  

This Web Is Weary

My dream catcher cries
with the intake of these fears.
This web is weary.
Expunging all this dead weight,
what a harsh burden to bare. 

My friend wove a spell 
translating to protection. 
Solace in the dark. 
Look at what hangs high above,
the gift of peaceful slumber. 

Is desire enough? 
Will we wake with folded hands? 
This web is

spider web hiku

For Brian Strand's Your Choice Z Poetry Contest

15 June 2025





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Saying Goodbye to a web of lies

Saying Goodbye to a Web of Deception**

When did it become so effortless for him to weave his lies? Was it after their first anniversary, when the glow of their love began to fade? He meticulously plotted his betrayals, crafted intricate plans, and willingly cheated, transforming himself into a mastermind of deceit. Meanwhile, she wore her

In a corner of the world, where silence weaves its web like a spider in the night

In a corner of the world, where silence weaves its web like a spider in the night,
Lives trickle away in lines of systematic renunciations, like rivers slowly retreating,
Each step backward is a knife plunged deep into the flesh of attempts to live,
And each unspoken whisper becomes a weight pressing on the shoulders of dreams yet

The Web

I watch with laser focus
this genius ply its craft
a miracle of nature
to create, it's artful task.

It moves along precisely
the architecture forms
mysterious unseen guidance
geometrically adorned.

This committed tiny creature
entertained for hours on end,
I look forward to my next visit
when the spider spins again.

Sometimes I feel trapped in the inescapable web woven from all the moments we spent together

Sometimes I feel trapped in the inescapable web woven from all the moments we spent together,
I wonder if there's a way to return to those times lost in the abyss of memory,
I think about whether, if I had listened more closely to my inner voice, feeling the ground tremble,
I could have sensed the lava boiling

Puppet or Master

I watched a man play with a spider
On the end of it's own web the other day

Curious

How what keeps one safe
Can be another's play toy -
Playing you like a puppet,
Moving to its masters every whim

The question is
Who is the puppet and who is the master?

A Web, Love Spun

 It's hard to lose someone who was never really yours to love.
                                          

Through this web

Will you then twist my vision into a perfect blur? 
A landscape warped, a world I half perceive, 
Like gazing through a rain-streaked silk-screen, 
Cut the edges sharp to watch my colors bleed 
I ask this not in fear, but in a curious way, 
A yearning for a change in how I see, 
To break

A Web of Words

In the barnyard, on a farm,
Lived a pig with a certain charm,
Wilbur was his name, so bright and sweet,
A special pig, that all did greet.

Charlotte, a spider, so wise and kind,
Took Wilbur under her wing, in her mind,
She spun webs, with words so true,
A plan to save Wilbur, from becoming stew.

The animals of the farm,

Broken generation caught within the web

When looking at reflections
it draws and paints from a spirit 
certain visions sit on the sidelines set aside 
afraid to choose honestly 
and grow a backbone straightened by facts 
in those refusing to stand up for the most basic human right 
Then again many follow the bully 
name calling suppressing the truth 
branding wisdom is

Entangled in the Digital Web: The Modern Trap

In a realm once pure, where stories were shared,
A new world arrived, yet no one was prepared.
Young hands that once worked with skill and grace
Now swipe on screens, lost in the race.

They dream of fame and riches untold,
But in return, their secrets are sold.
A click, a share, and trust is gone-
Privacy is lost as the

I was born with dreams, not my own, but woven like a spider's web into my blood

I was born with dreams, not my own, but woven like a spider's web into my blood,
by ancestors who left this world without fulfilling their desires,
they pass down ambition like an heirloom of old silverware, polished with memories,
caressed by the dust of decades, yet too precious to be left to fade away.
Each night, I feel

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