i find delight in the spider
he of long and spindly leg
that floats in air as a glider
affixed to silken string o' web

concentric circles in straight line
affixed with spokes from hub
dripping glue of deadly shine
to catch the flying grub

in centrepoint, without a breath,
he sits with pincers poised,
ready to deal blow of death
in lethal void of noise

with patience, as ship in berth,
he waits, with glee 'n mirth
sits very still, grin suppressed,
to welcome unwary guest

the slightest tremour from his trap
sends him racing to his food
in cocoon with zap and snap,
mummifies unfortunate dude

and when he's ****** out last saliva
of life and meaning from his caller
he retracts as deep-sea diver
to the depths of fatal mauler

there to bide his time again
until the next crashing plane,
insect flies into his den
and 🕷 smiles and nods, 'amen'.

waxen ivy, leaves verdurous
wind around the succulent shoot
cleaving as malignant virus
sinking deep parasitic root

as star heliacal, it makes its debut
with innocence and propriety,
growing flexuous in situ
of sun maiden of society

but as incessant circumpolar
star of eternal reign
it is stronger than star solar
sun orb of yon kingly train

round soft bark o' younger sapling
twists 'n weaves the strangling twine,
hand-to-hand contestants grappling
with hate and love, the two combine

sapping strength, convolvulus curls
its lips, agape in poison'd glee
as from its midst, river pearls,
satin bells in filigree

the sweetest blooms of ivory,
tender as a fairy's wings,
with splash of pink-toned livery
as courtiers of ancient kings

sweet reminder of beauteous nature,
hand that guides all things that are,
from thickest trunk to slend filature,
from snow crystal to morning star

i bend my ear to the cackle
of conceited, binding ****,
as whining howl of the jackal
standing over carrion feed

within i see the empty crackle,
hollowness and selfish need
to capture others in its shackle
to feel worthy in life's stampede

as those who love to feed off others
are starved of own self-worth,
and thus they need life another's
to live on G-d's good earth

kneeling on the carpet,
back to radiator,
heels against the parget,
wails 'gainst her hater,

for life, the gladiator,
mark'd her out as target,
the **** of aggravator,
the eye of senseless orbit

copious tears doleful shed
in lament of menopause
heavy heart and heavy head
vainly search for latent cause

as despondent dejection
spreads his grey-black wings
snuffs out flame o' resurrection
of hope of better things

everyone is the writer
of a masterpiece
written not with typewriter,
pen or quill of geese
rather this work is scribed
with kindness 'n good deeds
the goodness that's been imbibed
in fufilling others' needs,
its pages are the hours
that've been wisely spent
a garden of rare flowers
emitting perfumed scent
this is your magnum opus,
not some dusty tome,
recording your true focus
whilst this world was your home

there was an old lady from York
who used to screech and squawk
when asked why
this heinous cry
she answered, 'because i'm a stork'!

now, this strange ol' lady from York
who believed that she was a stork
decided one day
to start eating hay
on a plate with a knife and a fork

when friends offered her some fish
she firmly pushed away the dish
i'm vegetarian
not a barbarian
but i'll eat some eggs if you wish

now i'd like to continue this rhyme
about this bird maritime
or rather this lady
of intelligence shady
but i'm afraid it's reached my bedtime

so, kind reader, as you're still reading
and curious to know where this is leading
feel free to write
something to delight
to give this story the end that it's needing