Wiersze na temat: web

Wiersze na temat „web” na Poets.by.

KontemplacyjnyRisa Bear

She Has Work to Do

She has work to do, establishing Her anchor threads, her frame threads, Even her bridge thread and all her radii, Hub to be ready by dawn, herself resting -- All-powerful, so far as any lacewing can See. Seeking out the ripest berries, she Works not to eat drupelets, but entirely to Offer them as bait to fruit flies and their ilk. Right away along comes another Killer, a ladybird beetle, seeking the berries Too, and for the same reason. He's caught, Offers resistance, is overwhelmed, rolled up, Done. Whatever comes in, if protein, her Ovum will accept. Death it is brings life.
KontemplacyjnyWallace Stevens

Tattoo

The light is like a spider. It crawls over the water. It crawls over the edges of the snow. It crawls under your eyelids And spreads its webs there-- Its two webs. The webs of your eyes Are fastened To the flesh and bones of you As to rafters or grass. There are filaments of your eyes On the surface of the water And in the edges of the snow.
MarzycielskiJoseph Campbell

I Spin My Golden Web

I spin my golden web in the sun: The cherries tremble, the light is done. A sudden wind sweeps over the bay, And carries my golden web away!
KontemplacyjnyGenevieve Taggard

To a Magnificent Spinner, Murdered

Gnats and an ant have gnawed your nimble bones — You who could spring and sprawl on your own thread Down half the meadow. Under tiny stones The ant has stored your essence. You are dead. You stitched the air with level darts : the sun Slid on your silvers. Now they slant oblique Like strokes of rain. . . . Your neighbors have begun To chew the cud of festoons. From the cheek Of this, your hairy enemy, dangles one Loop of his glee to tease your skeleton. Wasps sting the grapes still, carry spider-spoil In twisted torment past your web and on Where their crude honey hangs in muddy cones. The ants are hurried. One huge bee intones. The pond is wrinkled with a velvet oil