The Gnat

The spider Queen, aloofly vain!

She rules a silent ruthless reign,

with black-bead eyes like pearls of rain

that damp the depths of her demesne. 

          .

                     .

                                .

A spider spins, with nimble feet,

a sticky web of grim deceit

that drapes the corners, dark, discreet,

in catacombs of her retreat.

Her jointed legs (in number, eight)

traverse the threads with stilted gait,

but often more she'll lie in wait

within the hub of her estate.

Shy spiders live their lives alone

ensconced within a silky throne;

unless a transient guest comes flown,

their lives bide empty, monotone.

          .

                     .

Well, now and then, a sullen breeze

may twitch the toils, begin to tease �"

yet nothing's caught and nothing pleas,

so patience's bid  at times like these.

But then again, when stars ignite,

may maunder by a gnat, by night,

be taught a dance, a writhing rite,

within a lace of death, wrapped tight.

Sometimes a spider's in the mood

and waits awhile, whilst being wooed �"

and then, to later feed her brood,

the widow slays her mate for food.

In time a spider dies, 'tis true,

bequeathing but a residue

entwined, devoid of retinue,

in fibers decked in silver dew.

          .

                     .

                                .

One asks "What purpose serves the GNAT �"

to feed and make the spider fat?

Well, 'tis perchance just naught but that

within a mindless habitat.

          .

                     .

"Yet, what's the aim?” you may inquire,

“at the heart of MAN's desire.

To which goals should WE aspire

reaching high and reaching higher?"

We've, through the ages, left the mire,

trundling wheels and taming fire,

doing deeds that must inspire,

nursing needy, calming crier, …

Such things as these, most may admire:

          - placid dove and war defier

            (some are bolder, some are shyer)

          - patience (mess-up mollifier);

          - humankind (Life's justifier)

          - charity (charmed self-denier) 

          - tolerance (proud pacifier )

          - love of Life (folk unifier).

What more could we, as flesh, require?

Needless kneeling neath the spire?

Childish chanting in the choir?

Preaching hell's impending pyre?

No, Death's the only rectifier,

comes the instant we expire,

nothing after, sentience prior.

So, treasure Life and don't deny Her.

Reviews

[Ana Papaya]

I think this is marvellous. A captivating story told in smooth flowing rhyme with a message there at the end I would happily endorse. Wonderful work Terry.
Only suggestion I have and it is very small is to change this line: "so patience's bid at times like these." to "patience bids". That's the only one that tripped my tongue but truly a magnificent piece of work in my opinion.

[Terry O'Leary]

Thanks, Papaya... I think you're right... Ive mad the change!!

[Ana Papaya]

You're welcome. Super poem.:)

[D Connolly]

I like the story! It's a really good poem and I like how it sounds when I read it.

[Terry O'Leary]

Thank you, D Connolly... much appreciated!!

[Valentine]

Well written and how you made the lines rhyme is very good. Valentine

[Terry O'Leary]

Thank you, Valentine... you are very kind!
Terry