An outlet for players whose creativity extends beyond the board. Post your original works here!
The posting of song lyrics is not the purpose of this board and as such please refrain from doing so. Exceptions can be made to this rule if you are the copyrighted owner of the lyrics and the lyrics are not found offensive by the majority of the population. This board is a place to post your original works of poetry and prose and also a place for discussion of poetry and related areas.
We have received word from Fencer that other's poetry can be posted to this board. These are the two conditions: 1) When someone posts a known copyrighted poem, he must add the author's name as well 2) If the author is not known, the poem can be posted without problems
At the center of the web
Sits a widow spider
Always dressed in black
With a splash of red -
(It’s slendering, you know);
Shirt cut low
With cups pulled high
And a shake-n-bake tan.
Always a fresh manicure,
Pedicure and waxed brows
From the afternoon spa.
“Hey there!” She sings
In her cheerleader voice
With forced giggle
And playful flirtings -
That have the effect
(On enlightened ones)
Of fingernails on a chalkboard.
And every conversation
(With the layers peeled off)
Only chants, “Me.”
Another tiny butterfly is stopped
By the sticky strands.
“Aren’t you a nice little thing,”
The spider seduces…
“How lucky I am to have you…”
She repeats,
As the appreciative butterfly,
Caught up in conversation
Doesn’t notice
The nurturing spider
Spinning her tighter and tighter
Into her burial gauze.
As she sucks the blood
From her innocent guest
She doesn’t notice
Or care
That the life force is damaged
And the butterfly is fading away,
Because she feels the vibration
Of other visitors
And is busy figuring out
How to make this look innocent
As she calls out to the next,
“Hey there!...”