A THOUSAND RAINBOWS
Posted: Wed Jul 29, 2015 10:10 am
A THOUSAND RAINBOWS … Maureen Clifford © The #ScribblyBark Poet
She knew not why night time brought terror,
but knew she refused to give in,
she chose to see only the goodness
and tried hard to forgive the sin.
It glared with evil malevolence ,
its eye dared - just dared you come near.
The strands of silk thread held her captive ,
her heart was now beating in fear
and this was the stuff of her nightmares,
and this was the thread of her dreams
in daylight she just saw their beauty
but night's dark echoed to her screams.
A symbol of evil and witchcraft –
one hundred eyes saw all to see,
a web like lace filigree stretching,
between the barn door and the tree.
Deceptively simple and fragile,
in fact quite amazingly strong
and coiled in the heart of the webnet –
arachnoid - legs hairy and long.
She’d read ancient tales about Argo,
stories from Greek mythology
and how Hera made him a peacock
to beautify his ugly
demeanour and monstrous body.
She covered his body with eyes
and now he was even more fearful,
considered the master of spies.
But in daylight the feathers were lovely,
they flashed with iridescent hue
and the web of the spider was dainty black lace,
so strong and yet delicate too.
One thousand superimposed rainbows
were captured in each lovely wand
and her soul still rejoiced in the beauty
of every avian frond.
She knew not why night time brought terror,
but knew she refused to give in
her rationality took over –
the feathers consigned to the bin.
She knew not why night time brought terror,
but knew she refused to give in,
she chose to see only the goodness
and tried hard to forgive the sin.
It glared with evil malevolence ,
its eye dared - just dared you come near.
The strands of silk thread held her captive ,
her heart was now beating in fear
and this was the stuff of her nightmares,
and this was the thread of her dreams
in daylight she just saw their beauty
but night's dark echoed to her screams.
A symbol of evil and witchcraft –
one hundred eyes saw all to see,
a web like lace filigree stretching,
between the barn door and the tree.
Deceptively simple and fragile,
in fact quite amazingly strong
and coiled in the heart of the webnet –
arachnoid - legs hairy and long.
She’d read ancient tales about Argo,
stories from Greek mythology
and how Hera made him a peacock
to beautify his ugly
demeanour and monstrous body.
She covered his body with eyes
and now he was even more fearful,
considered the master of spies.
But in daylight the feathers were lovely,
they flashed with iridescent hue
and the web of the spider was dainty black lace,
so strong and yet delicate too.
One thousand superimposed rainbows
were captured in each lovely wand
and her soul still rejoiced in the beauty
of every avian frond.
She knew not why night time brought terror,
but knew she refused to give in
her rationality took over –
the feathers consigned to the bin.
