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Thursday, 17 September 2009

Tickle - in honour of Spider Week 2009


On the loose
In your house
Scampering up walls.
Velvet legs
Thick as twigs
Scuttling down halls.
Dropping down
By your face
Frightening you half mad.
No wonder
Spiders run
If you think them bad.
When you scream
What of him?
Sensitive fine hairs
Tense up tight.
He screams too.
Panic on the stairs.
Wish him well,
Arachnid,
Prowling in the night.
On the hunt
For a mate.
Pity him his plight.
Pointed knees,
Bubbled eyes
Staring from his nest.
Waiting there.
Why not say
'Welcome' to your guest.
 
(c) Michele Ranger/Lily Childs September 2009

1 comment:

  1. This freaked me out. A massive brown spider ran across my carpet as I was reading the poem! It must have known.

    Jess

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