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Scary Little Dude
Sitting at my deep-green desk,
Rotting my brain on the internet.
I see a bug, I see a fly,
I see a fly in front of my eyes.
Tan and white, not black all-over.
Slowly I begin to look closer.
This fly is flying up side down,
His stomach toward the ceiling, his back toward the ground.
An invisible thread is pulling him up
To where he must live, from inside my cup.
Stomach doing flip-flops I have to think fast.
If I don't catch him now, I won't know where he was last.
Grabbing a glass I swipe over his shoulders.
(This an attempt to bring this little dude to order.)
Too fast for my glass he ends up on my desk,
I being faster place the cup on him to rest.
I can't believe that he was there, there this whole time,
I can't believe a spider put a spark in me to write up this whole rhyme...
-August 16, 2000
Click on the pic above to visit an Arachnology website
I wrote this poem after my experience with an ooky-looking spider... *shiver* haha
Two Paths
I started out on a path, wasn't hard cement.
It was shaky, and loose, and at many times was bent.
Looking though the hedges, I catch a glimpse of another path.
This one appears safe, away from evil's wrath.
The first few steps are welcoming, solidity beneath my feet.
The feeling of home rushes over my body, my life now seems complete.
Days go by, I still feel at home, I have forgotten my other way.
The friends I am making, the fun I am having, I can't wait for a new day!
But then comes along a break, a break among the thick hedges.
My old and owrn path peeks through, a glimpse of the worn edges.
I see people laughing, I see them believing,
Soon I am drawn into, drawn into the meaning.
That path I am on, although cement it may seem,
Is not the one for me, it is not worthy for me deemed.
I crawl through the break, the break amongre the hedges.
The break where I see my path, with its worn edges.
Stepping onto the dirt, I remember this feeling!
This feeling I loved and was not worth conceiling.
Now on the right path, my home is more heart-felt.
I believe in Him, and love Him, for He makes my heart melt.
I almost didn't put this poem on my website since it gets so corny at the end... i couldn't help it! it rhymed!
Getting Old
People today, they are so concerned of getting old.
Facelifts, tummy-tucks, cutting away anything that folds.
But me, I am different, I am unlike all the rest.
I look forward to wrinkles, the gray hair, for I shall know I look my best!
God has possessed me with these wonderful traits,
The blue of my eyes, the life of my face.
Why would I want to change these things, for they are who I am.
If change these things I did, well, then from Him I will have ran
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