The Spider-poet

The Spider-Poet 

A fly met a poetic-spider

The fly wanted to know

How the poems were written

Keeping his distance but quite smitten

“I don’t know they just come out that way…”

Said the poetic-spider to the fly – adding:

‘My poetic brilliance will catch you by and by…’

So up into the stratosphere he – the fly – did fly

Living to fly another day

Until the next poet he did encounter

With bootleg versions below the counter

The fly entranced with the spider’s dulcet tones

Got distracted into his web-zones 

All chained-up in sticky web and saliva

He now got the words recited in his ear

Amidst the spider’s dastardly sneer

Punishment-torture – were those rhymes

As the fly lay suffocating in the web – this time

His last gasp exhaled out-past the spider’s nasal

The spider had just asked for his critical appraisal

With gasping breath and stuttering words

The fly admitted ‘it wasn’t for the birds’

‘Not to my taste’ was his last farewell

The poet paused in his daily routine

Of performing his poems to tourist fly-teams

His poems were loaded with hidden meaning

As his long legs made their way across the ceiling

Lying in wait he started to recite

With a Nobel prize in his mind’s-eye

When suddenly the fly he thought dead

started to fly

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