Verse - 9 Poem by Xavier Mandreza

Verse - 9

The Spider climbs Walls
To make a Web of Fortune
For the Careless Fly.

The Spider spins Webs
On the Top of the Ceiling
Whilst wearing Glasses.

A Fly falls on Web
Saying, 'Toodle-Dee, my Man! '
The Spider: 'Oho! '

The Sun shines bright now
It cancelled the Darkened Day
And made me rest well.

Mirth is Birth of Spring
And the Sullenness of Youth
Returns to Revive.

Fall begets Winter
As the blanket covers us
And fools with the Sun.

I read a Good Book
Until my Words were Enriched
With the Best of Truth.

Who am I to say
That the Days run without Time
And decieve your Thoughts?

I have hope to live
When Winters besiege my Face
And soothens my skin.

All have the Talent
To manifest God's Works well
But do we use it?

I may well suggest
That we reflect the Seasons
And their Message sing.

There are Youths today
Who spin such Webs by themselves
Get entangled there.

Let your Love reflect
Upon Truth and Honesty
And the Web will melt.

I was born to love
Yet Love refused to love me
So I killed myself.

The Saviour warned us
All about the White-Washed Tomb
As a Normal Trait.

The Glassed Spider
Saw a Fly approaching by
Telling him, 'Go Home! '

Sunday, August 30, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: verse
207 / 206
Xavier Mandreza

Xavier Mandreza

Makati City, Philippines
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