As promised, however late I am, here is my spider poem – probably not the best thing I have ever written, but I’m just grateful to be writing again. Besides, I kind of like it, I like the bumbling nature of the poem, the over simplified complex structure couple with an end rhyme that has some very stretched rules.
If you enjoy it, let me know – but likewise if you have constructive feedback I’d welcome that too.
Later, I’ll be using this poem as one of the sources for a post about editing poetry, so you never know, I may be back with a better version yet – but I still love this one.
Spider Poem
Have you ever taken a moment out of your day,
To watch something truly unimpressive,
Yet overwhelmingly inspiring all the same?
You might never consider it worthwhile to say,
Events so small it’s easy to be dismissive,
If you discard it I think you should feel shame.
An event of such minor proportions happened to me,
So life alteringly small,
It unlocked a door to my soul,
And something changed within.
It started with a visit to the loo,
Hardly an auspicious opening,
But I was stuck transfixed to what I saw.
A spider of insignificant tall,
Trapped in the bath bowl,
Myths say forever trapped therein.
It tried and tried with web of glue,
Of this castle it was not destined to king,
With no regard to mythological law,
With as much chance of escape as a ball,
And remember no digging, it’s not a mole,
This spider free of thoughtful sin.
It could climb so far then fall,
Web attached it would roll,
No more than a silent din.
I felt this littlest of heroes would try till it was blue,
It would never throe the towel into the ring,
Like a drowning man, desperate to reach the shore.
I am in awe that it would not let it’s fate just be,
It answered life’s challange with dignity and a call,
And finally, or most orgasmically, ended was it’s toll,
It won it’s mighty quest to the envy of it’s kin.
A much larger spider had watched and did stay,
A coward, but in its size it was impressive,
it didn’t matter though the little one won this game.
Nothing now stopped this little spider may,
It climbed a shampoo bottle, then the wall its complete missive,
The little spider inspired my writing and this poem came.
Have you ever taken a moment out of your day,
To watch something truly unimpressive,
Yet overwhelmingly inspiring all the same?
I did and it truly did dividends pay,
And the time it took may seem excessive,
But I was changed, no longer the writer eternally lame.
©, Jonathan Lawrence 2009
Aspiring 