David Wood

(07 April 1950 / London)

Spiders


We’re living in the year of the spider
Of woven golden silken thread
Of sticky drippy weave filled dread
That capture small fly’s that stray.

Cobwebs that spiders climb each day
Up ladders in the sky filled room
That spells a fly’s quiet doom
As the spider toy’s to play.

This is the year of the spider,
All fly’s take note with dread.
You only keep the spider fed
In those cobwebs so enticing to climb.

Submitted: Sunday, April 07, 2013
Edited: Thursday, October 10, 2013

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Spiders by David Wood )

Enter the verification code :

  • Kelvin Owusu (4/18/2013 1:18:00 AM)

    this can be related to life it self onces fight with self, doubts being the cobwebs and flys being us, if one alouds their fears doubts insecurities overwelm they'll be fed upon. a great write (Report) Reply

Read all 3 comments »

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

New Poems

  1. 'A mess', Wolfie Scott
  2. Let's Think About Humanity, Prodip Kumar
  3. On My Father's Yortsayt, Abraham Sutzkever
  4. The Bottom Line, Abraham Sutzkever
  5. Inside Me, Abraham Sutzkever
  6. नोँनि हाइनायाव, Bahadur Basumatary
  7. Paris 1988, Abraham Sutzkever
  8. Remembrances Of Others, Abraham Sutzkever
  9. Everything But God, Anne Pierson Wiese
  10. All Night Long, Anne Pierson Wiese

Poem of the Day

poet Pablo Neruda

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]