The Queen of Spiders
The spider moved, long legs methodically
Lifted and fell, precise black-footed tread
In graceful, steady synchronicity
'Cross web built from her body's silken thread.
She climbed until she reached the outer edge
And stepping off, dropped gently, spinning line
While yet attached to delicate silk ledge;
Her abdomen weaves effortlessly fine.
In silence, Urelei watched languidly.
She lay on her divan, one arm outstretched
Across the headrest's carved mahogany,
The other, on her stomach, contrast-etched.
Dark skin on ivory silk of sleeveless gown
Gold braid on white, gold bracelets on dark arm
Where tight curls pressed, as she lay her head down
Her hair, gloss black and densely matted charm
Adorning curls, and pressed by bracelets too,
An intricate gold headdress was arrayed.
"Mistress?" A new young woman comes in view;
Her gown is silk, but without golden braid.
She now in Urelei's pavilion steps
Through archway bound by many spiders' dreams
And feet placed to avoid their fine spun webs
That reach from sanded floor to pillared beams
The open air pavilion's ceiling shows
A carved wood spider's legs, as jointed spokes
And web work from the floor to this still grows
Extended by their careful weaving strokes.
"What are you watching?" she now softly asks.
The Queen of Spiders rolls to face the girl.
Her hand lifts one, still busy at its tasks
And watches as rappelling line unfurls
"Spiders, my daughter," Urelei replies
The spider places line to help her down
Bright silk on Urelei's jet black skin lies
The creature steps off, spinning to the ground.
The servant watched, a clay jar in her hands
Warm sunlight filtered through the shimmering web
That laced all but where entrance archway stands
And only there did silken weaving ebb.
The servant girl then perched on divan
At Queen of Spider's feet, and gently spoke.
"My lady..." and with one long fingered hand
Opened the jar --- and winged wonder broke.
The flying insects sprang from prison clay
And filled the air with shimmer as they fled
But fleeing, snared themselves as struggling prey;
Alerted spiders toward vibrations sped.
As Urelei's brown eyes watched this tableau
The delicate designs performed their role
Their owners toward the victims swiftly go
The potent poison soon to take its toll.
The insects' bodies liquefied within
And struggles found surcease injected fast
Servant and mistress watch the spiders spin
Cocooning meals for leisurely repast.
"My lady ... when you shift a spider as
You did just now, does not its web then change?"
"Of course," nods Urelei with stately class
Her servant reaches in to rearrange
The insects left inside the jar; they fly
To add their flitting throes to nearby traps
"And patterns even change when insects die?"
"It's change that turns these patterns into maps.
You cannot read much from a virgin web."
"But ... doesn't that mean everything depends
On when I set them free, when their lives ebb?
Or when you turn? The placement of your hands?"
Her Lady's warm affection for the girl
Filled her, and she said "Naturally, my child.
Think you Man has no influence in this world
Upon his destiny?" The Mistress smiled.
A single dragonfly rose from the jar
And hovered over the Queen and serving girl
With seemed intent to seek and travel far
Flew through the arch, escaping in the world
(Adapted to iambic pentameter from a very creative original work
to be found here.)
(c) 2003 IambicPentameterTranslator.com
===|==============/ Level Head
Lifted and fell, precise black-footed tread
In graceful, steady synchronicity
'Cross web built from her body's silken thread.
She climbed until she reached the outer edge
And stepping off, dropped gently, spinning line
While yet attached to delicate silk ledge;
Her abdomen weaves effortlessly fine.
In silence, Urelei watched languidly.
She lay on her divan, one arm outstretched
Across the headrest's carved mahogany,
The other, on her stomach, contrast-etched.
Dark skin on ivory silk of sleeveless gown
Gold braid on white, gold bracelets on dark arm
Where tight curls pressed, as she lay her head down
Her hair, gloss black and densely matted charm
Adorning curls, and pressed by bracelets too,
An intricate gold headdress was arrayed.
"Mistress?" A new young woman comes in view;
Her gown is silk, but without golden braid.
She now in Urelei's pavilion steps
Through archway bound by many spiders' dreams
And feet placed to avoid their fine spun webs
That reach from sanded floor to pillared beams
The open air pavilion's ceiling shows
A carved wood spider's legs, as jointed spokes
And web work from the floor to this still grows
Extended by their careful weaving strokes.
"What are you watching?" she now softly asks.
The Queen of Spiders rolls to face the girl.
Her hand lifts one, still busy at its tasks
And watches as rappelling line unfurls
"Spiders, my daughter," Urelei replies
The spider places line to help her down
Bright silk on Urelei's jet black skin lies
The creature steps off, spinning to the ground.
The servant watched, a clay jar in her hands
Warm sunlight filtered through the shimmering web
That laced all but where entrance archway stands
And only there did silken weaving ebb.
The servant girl then perched on divan
At Queen of Spider's feet, and gently spoke.
"My lady..." and with one long fingered hand
Opened the jar --- and winged wonder broke.
The flying insects sprang from prison clay
And filled the air with shimmer as they fled
But fleeing, snared themselves as struggling prey;
Alerted spiders toward vibrations sped.
As Urelei's brown eyes watched this tableau
The delicate designs performed their role
Their owners toward the victims swiftly go
The potent poison soon to take its toll.
The insects' bodies liquefied within
And struggles found surcease injected fast
Servant and mistress watch the spiders spin
Cocooning meals for leisurely repast.
"My lady ... when you shift a spider as
You did just now, does not its web then change?"
"Of course," nods Urelei with stately class
Her servant reaches in to rearrange
The insects left inside the jar; they fly
To add their flitting throes to nearby traps
"And patterns even change when insects die?"
"It's change that turns these patterns into maps.
You cannot read much from a virgin web."
"But ... doesn't that mean everything depends
On when I set them free, when their lives ebb?
Or when you turn? The placement of your hands?"
Her Lady's warm affection for the girl
Filled her, and she said "Naturally, my child.
Think you Man has no influence in this world
Upon his destiny?" The Mistress smiled.
A single dragonfly rose from the jar
And hovered over the Queen and serving girl
With seemed intent to seek and travel far
Flew through the arch, escaping in the world
(Adapted to iambic pentameter from a very creative original work
to be found here.)
(c) 2003 IambicPentameterTranslator.com
===|==============/ Level Head