~The poet uses the butterfly net of language to catch fleeting images in mid-flight~

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Grace


When the great spider goddess, Spifica,
Leaps from the center of her web
And grabs the next victim,
Her nimble and dexterous feet
Tumble and roll the body,
As sharp, precise stabs,
From hidden fangs,
Deliver the stupefying potion
That lowers all vital signs
To a point of unconsciousness
Just above death.
Spinnerets at the abdomen
Spray out sticky, white strands
That are gathered by knowing feet
And a white shawl is woven
Around the pale body,
While it is spun on its axis.

The encased form is deposited
Like a full bottle of wine
Somewhere on Spifica’s web,
Where it will hang, waiting,
Waiting for the day that hunger
And the sucking reflex
Will kick in
And cause Her, again, to return
And reclaim Her prize,
Draining the bottle, just a little,
Savoring the fruity, mellowed tannins
Of ‘Life-Force’
With hints of black cherry and chocolate
And a ‘finish’ that leaves the palate
Engaged, if unrequited.
The bottle, a little less full,
Is hung again on the rack of the web,
Its succulence still protected
By the husk of paralysis.
The juice will be undisturbed now,
Given time to age.
More ‘bottles’ join it,
While She goes on ‘collecting’, tasting,
And discarding the empties,
Some of them hanging on filaments,
Hollow corpses spinning
On the breeze like pinwheels.

A young boy approaches the web
With curiosity and a stick in his hand.
With a whirl of the stick,
Like a magician casting a spell,
The web is destroyed
And Spifica is sent flying.
In the shambles,
The boy, innocently inquisitive,
Discovers the silk shrouded capsules
And begins to pull them out
Of their fallen matrix.
He stacks them neatly
In a row on the ground.
Gently, one by one, he opens them
As if they were presents
From under a Christmas tree.
A bee……a moth…… a cicada…… a butterfly……
Respectfully, he lays them down
On a piece of bark in the sun
And then he leaves…


Warmed by the noonday sun,
Life awakens with sleepy eyes
And is carried aloft on wings
That unfold from a dream.


14 comments:

  1. This is so richly layered. I think it is one of your best. There is something here I really need to meditate upon. The spider really scares me and then the boy brings it right down to earth - literally. Thank you _/|\_

    ReplyDelete
  2. Well done,this brought to mind many a web and a lot of Grace. Blessings to you Tiger from The Red Rocks!

    ReplyDelete
  3. Vivid and fun to read. Loved it Tiger. (little boys will be little boys :)) Keep em coming. Enjoy your poems very much. xo

    ReplyDelete
  4. "With hints of black cherry and chocolate," Who could ask for more. A beautiful fall into a somewhat sad but beautifully detailed end.

    ReplyDelete
  5. a lot of great description here!

    ReplyDelete
  6. well that spider woman is rather gruesome...thank goodness for little boys...with sticks...

    ReplyDelete
  7. awakening from the dream
    warmed by the noon day sun...
    i totally empathize with you

    when is that book coming out

    ReplyDelete
  8. In the beginning, i thought- am i reading a documentary? but by the end! I realized without the description there was no ending...Beautiful piece..cheers..

    ReplyDelete
  9. an excellent share..can i say epic...there was a life's journey here too...great stuff pete

    ReplyDelete
  10. Beautiful ~ I felt as though I was there, as an observer. Beautiful observation of Nature and the innocence of the boy. Well done.

    ReplyDelete
  11. Loved the last stanza... the curiosity of a child in the wild.

    ReplyDelete
  12. "Respectfully, he lays them down
    On a piece of bark in the sun"

    This line does a great job of bringing a sense of immediacy to the poem and points to the value of each life. Loved your vivid nature imagery too.

    ReplyDelete