[stylist] Spiders

[Lynda Lambert]

OH, this poem about the spider is really nice!

Yes, my friend always referred to Doris' senior hairs as "Feathers."  When 
Doris got to be in her old age, she became more cranky and the visits to the 
school children stopped as she no longer liked to have anyone touching her 
feathers.

Lynda
----- Original Message ----- 
From: "Atty Rose" <attyrose at cox.net>
To: "Writer's Division Mailing List" <stylist at nfbnet.org>
Sent: Sunday, March 16, 2014 10:09 AM
Subject: [stylist] Spiders


> We have a tarantula named Azreilla. She is a rose hair and very big. Just 
> for those who don't know, tarantulas have hair on them and when I could 
> see I thought it looked course, but after touching it I can tell you it is 
> soft like a chick.
>
> And they web. She eats crickets from the pet store.
>
> Write on,
> Atty
>
> Thought i'd share. LOL
>
> ----- Original Message ----- 
> From: "William L Houts" <lukaeon at gmail.com>
> To: "Writer's Division Mailing List" <stylist at nfbnet.org>
> Sent: Sunday, March 16, 2014 8:57 AM
> Subject: [stylist] Poem - "A Spider"
>
>
>> Hi Peeps,
>>
>> Here's something I just dug up from one of my older, creakier poetry 
>> folders.  I wrote this sometime in my twenties, and I think it still 
>> works.  OH hell, why don't I just say it:  I'm in love with this poem and 
>> wouldn't edit it dfor a mint, LOL.  I've written a few poems about 
>> spiders, as I love the hideous little monsters somewhat, but this is 
>> probably the best.  Comments welcome, as always.
>>
>>
>> --Bill
>>
>>
>> ---
>>
>>
>> Sprawled in my favorite chair,
>> I  found a spider striving down
>> my sweater's cotton roads;
>> uncruel, I meant to brush her
>> from my collar to the floor,
>> but a brainless finger crushed her.
>>
>> Drunk on ideas the size of salt,
>> her witty legs, those marvelous legs
>> had skittered her down the wall
>>
>> to vistas of heaving; the ebb
>> and flo of my breathing.
>>
>> A ruined husk.  I didn't reckon
>> the difference between our lives,
>> the stellar gap between a spider's
>> life and mine:  and this was my task,
>> for if it exists, a reckoning spider is
>> truly a monster, a foe to be fought.
>>
>> But she was no monster,
>> and I was only a man in a chair,
>> reading, with no ill intent:  and yet
>> that tiny walker died, a small
>> color in the world gone to gray
>>
>> at my blameless finger's end.
>>
>>
>>
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>>
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>>
>>
>> -- 
>> "Let's drink a toast now to who we really are."
>>
>>           --Jane Siberry
>>
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>
>
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