The night is still, and long the silent hours
when whispers reign and senses strain, alert.
A spider comes, and from her inner self,
she draws a viscous silk with spinnerets,
concentric strands of lace in spiral sweeps,
and in the graveyard hours she decks each strand
with orbs of dew she spirits from the mist,
a neckline drapery, a string of gems
that's fit to clothe the rosy breast of dawn—
but what of attercop, who fashioned it?
She lies in wait, emotionless, attuned
to feel vibrations signalling her prey.
The sun dries out the web. It is concealed
in phantom shades of grey. Invisible
to those who dance along in carefree flight.
Her trap is sprung; their struggles are in vain.
Her larder full, she sucks and masticates,
and when her feasting's done and she's replete,
she spins in dreams another skein of silk
to trap the blind with beauty's darker face.
|
Author Notes
Blank Expression contest rules
Blank Verse Only. Your subject is unpeopled and natural - the sea, the night sky, a season, a landscape etc. Be articulate, creative & rich in your imagery & word choice (but comprehensible). No religion or politics.
2 stanzas, each of 10 lines (thus, 20 lines in total) / Iambic pentameter / A total of 200 syllables expressed in two 'sets' of 100 / (poetry only)
|
