A pome

a poem by my mum:

As I was sitting there, not thinking very much,

Quite quiet, eyes bemused by the flick’ring picture’s touch,

A spider descended slowly, slowly from its hidden seat

And landed, oh so delicately, between my slippered feet.

                                         --

It was not a very big spider, barely visible at all.

In fact, by domestic standards, it really was quite small

And my poor eyes could barely see the thread

That attached it to the beam above my head.

                                         --

Securely anchored, self absorbed, serenely unaware

That I could be death’s instrument, just for a petty dare,

Randomly exploring the carpet, this arthropod so neat

Turns eight legs, this way and that, between my slippered feet.

                                         --

I looked at the spider and I suppose it  looked at me

But exactly where its eyes were, I really could not see.

Then it went back up, drawing in its slender thread ,

Slowly, slowly, no explanation, to its beam above my head.

                                         --

 

Now my mum’s poems are usually a bit deeper, but this one was so much fun I thought I’d share it with the internets. not bad for someone with english as a second language eh?

meanwhile, here’s a round of the stuff that made me giggle on the onion video:

• is the government doing enough to secretly spy on paranoid schizophrenics?
• supreme court rules death penalty ‘totally badass’
• army holds annual ‘bring your daughter to war’ day