42 result(s) for Spider Poems.
These poems are completely original - not copied from anywhere. Feel free to use them however you want.
Web of Whispers
In the corner of a room,
a spider spins,
a delicate lace of fleeting time.
Each thread a moment,
escaping the rush,
a silent testament
to the art of stillness.
I pass by,
heart thumping in a race,
a whirlwind of to-dos,
forgotten whispers of the soft,
unyielding patience of creation.
How many moments are caught
in this gossamer dance?
While I chase dreams
like fireflies in the dark,
a tiny architect weaves
a world unnoticed -
skyscrapers of silk
in the shadows,
a reminder that even in haste,
there is beauty to be found
in the pauses,
woven tight between breaths.
Whispers of the Weaver
Beneath the velvet night’s embrace,
The spider weaves her tales in lace.
With silken threads, so fine, precise,
She spins a story, soft as ice.
In shadows deep, her world takes flight,
Each glimmer caught in silver light.
A dance of fate, both cruel and kind,
In every knot, a truth aligned.
O fragile dreams, on whispers hung,
In twilight’s grasp, her web is spun.
Yet with the dawn, the tales may fade,
As time unwinds the dreams she laid.
With heavy heart, we bid adieu,
To stories told and spun anew.
In starlit skies, forever roam,
These spider poems find their home.
Ode to the Spider's Web
In the stillness of dawn, where shadows entwine,
A tapestry glimmers, spun thread so fine.
With patience, she weaves, in silken embrace,
A delicate fortress, a testament to grace.
Each strand tells a story, of struggle and might,
Of storms weathered boldly, through the depths of the night.
A dance of survival, through peril she glides,
In her fragile domain, resilience abides.
The world may be trembling, in chaos and fear,
Yet in tiny chambers, hope's whispers draw near.
For nature’s fine architect, so humble and small,
In each gossamer thread, she triumphs for all.
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Silken Threads
In morning's soft light,
Delicate webs glisten bright,
Nature's lacework spun,
Ephemeral art appears,
Fragile beauty, caught in time.
Weaver of Shadows
In twilight's hush, a tale unfolds,
Of silken threads and secrets told,
In corners dark, where shadows play,
The spider weaves by light of day.
With nimble grace, each fiber spun,
Her artistry beneath the sun,
A tapestry of hope and dread,
From whispered dreams and fears long shed.
A ghastly trap, a delicate snare,
Yet beauty blooms from the quiet air,
The glistening web, an ocean wide,
Where fate and fortune gently collide.
She dances on the gossamer line,
A silent master, by design,
With patience learned through timeless nights,
In every strand, the world ignites.
For in her art, both dark and bright,
Lies mystery wrapped in purest light,
Her fortress spins the tales of old,
A spider's heart, a story told.
Web of Dreams
In twilight's hush, the spider spins her threads,
Silken whispers weave through shadows and light,
Caught in the fabric, dreams float like feathers,
Fear dances close, a shadow on the wall,
Yet in the glimmer of strands, hope glistens,
Entwined in the tapestry of night.
Each thread, a tale of whispers and fears,
A labyrinth of desire, both fragile and bold,
In the corners of darkness, where silence reigns,
The tapestry beckons, revealing its heart,
With every shimmer, stories of night rise,
And in its embrace, both dreams and fears hold.
Beneath the moon's gaze, the web shimmers bright,
A fragile balance of longing and dread,
Each curve, a journey that time gently steers,
Reflecting the visions that sleep often brings,
The spider smiles softly, her art a delight,
In woven wonder, we find dreams instead.
Threads of Destiny
Gentle hands of silk,
Weaving tales in morning light,
Choreographed dance,
Nature's whispers intertwine,
Spiders craft their own fate's loom.
The Fate weavers
In corners where silence resides,
A spider in shadows abides.
With threads spun so fine,
Weaving tales in design,
A tapestry where fate collides.
The Shadowy Spinner
An eight-legged wanderer creeps,
In the shadows where silence weeps.
With webs finely spun,
It dances for fun,
While the world outside blissfully sleeps.
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Weaver of Wisdom
Spinner,
Silent, patient,
Crafting webs of knowledge,
Ancient pathways of creation,
Wisdom’s gift.
Silken Dance
Delicate ballet,
Eight-legged whispers in dusk,
Threads of dreams entwined.
Silken Echoes
In the still of dawn, whispers weave,
a tapestry of shimmering silk,
each thread a breath, a heartbeat,
a dance of shadows in the morning light.
Tiny architects cling to the edge,
crafting worlds in gossamer dreams,
where echoes of life hang thick in the air,
each glimmer a story, a fleeting embrace.
Beneath the silver dew,
each droplet holds a universe,
a reflection of purpose,
tangled in the artistry of existence.
The spider hums its quiet song,
a melody spun from the silence,
reminding us of the fragile threads
that bind us all, in woven symphony.
Nature's Threads
In the still of dawn,
where shadows stretch and yawn,
the spider weaves its silken web,
a glistening tapestry
woven with precision,
each thread a whisper of intent.
Beneath the fragile lace,
a knowing dance unfolds—
the delicate balance,
a ballet of life
where prey flutters,
tentative, unaware,
its fate held
a breath away.
An elegant predator,
the spider waits,
a still sentinel
in the shimmering light,
each movement an echo
of a world intertwining.
In this hidden theater,
gluttony meets grace,
as the cycle turns—
a feast before the void,
a silent requiem
for the unwary soul,
in nature’s endless play,
a waltz of survival
where hope and hunger
brush against each other,
always, eternally,
a balance, a thread,
a spider's song.
Ode to the Spider's Web
In the corner, a silken thread does gleam,
A marvel spun in the moon's soft beam.
Each strand a whisper, each knot a tale,
Of resilience woven, where light may prevail.
Oh architect of dreams, with delicate might,
You craft your abode in the still of the night.
A labyrinth of silver, a dance of the sun,
Your woven artistry, an echo of one.
For in every loop, a reminder we find,
Of the threads we are bound by, both fragile and kind.
In this tapestry's shimmer, our stories unite,
Connected through darkness, embraced by the light.
Whispers in Silk
In moonlit stillness,
Spiders weave their whispered tales,
Secrets in the threads.
Threads of Fate
In the heart of the forest, where shadows entwine,
A tapestry woven, both delicate and fine,
A spider spins stories, with silk deftly cast,
Each gossamer strand, a voice from the past.
With eight nimble legs, she dances in grace,
Her artistry binding the air's sweet embrace,
In twilight's soft whispers, her kingdom unfolds,
Where life finds its purpose, and fate gently molds.
She captures the dew, like diamonds in light,
Suspended in elegance, transcending the night,
Yet within her sweet web, a paradox stirs,
A beauty that enchains, as the night softly purrs.
The fly, caught in frenzy, drawn close to her charm,
Finds solace in silk, yet portent in harm,
For life held captive, by threads both so fine,
Is a dance with the fate that interweaves time.
Oh, webs of existence! Oh, glimmering plight!
Showcasing the struggle of day into night,
In delicate strands, truths woven tight,
Life held captive, yet wondrously bright.
So heed the soft silences, beneath every thread,
Each strand tells a story, of the living, the dead,
For within each soft shimmer, there’s a lesson in kind,
That life’s haunted by beauty, and freedom’s entwined.
Ode to the Silent Weaver
In the quiet corners where shadows loom,
Amidst the dust of a lonesome room,
A spider spins her fragile thread,
Weaving whispers where echoes dread.
With patience draped in silken grace,
She charts the paths of an empty space,
Each strand a story, softly spun,
A tapestry of light, a dance begun.
Her limbs, they glide through twilight's sigh,
In solitude's embrace, she dares to fly,
A vigil kept in the stillness wide,
An artisan of secrets where dark things hide.
Oh, solitary architect of night,
Your realm a canvas, dimmed from sight,
Though silent you stand, in shadows you bloom,
An ode to resilience in a lonesome room.
The Watchful Web
A spider, quite sleek and discreet,
In shadows, it weaves and retreats.
With patience, it lies,
'Neath the moonlit skies,
Guarding nature, its web is complete.
Cosmic Threads
In silken strands, the spider weaves her tale,
A tapestry of stars spun in the night,
Each shimmering thread, a delicate trail,
Reflects the cosmos in its gleaming light.
The web, a mirror of the vast unknown,
Holds whispered secrets in its woven grasp,
Where dreams of worlds collide and gently moan,
A dance of fate that time cannot unclasp.
Beneath the silver moon, her art unfolds,
Each curve and angle tells of time and space,
A cosmic map where every story molds,
Entwined in nature’s grand and fleeting grace.
So let us ponder when we see her scheme,
The web’s design, a pure celestial dream.
Web of Artistry
Sleek strands weave a tale in silence,
Patient craftsmanship, a dancer in the night.
Intricate patterns glisten with brilliance,
Daring the world to look with delight.
Eager hands crafting beauty unseen,
Resilient the web, each knot a shared thrill.
Poignant reflections, a canvas serene,
Opening doors where imagination can spill.
Mosaic of dreams, in shadows it spills,
Entwined in creation, a home made of skill.
Nature's Weavers
Spider
Delicate, silent
Spinning dreams, weaving threads
Nature's architect, unseen art
Weaving
Webs of Wonder
In twilight's glow, the spider weaves its thread,
A dance of fear, yet fascination ignites,
Delicate silk, a trap for those unaware,
Reflections of beauty in shadows cast wide,
Each strand entwined, a story of life and death,
The art of the web, both terrifying and bright.
Fear lingers close, as I approach the web,
A marvel crafted by nature's own hand,
Yet dread coils tight around the heart within,
In the stillness, fascination breaks the night,
A fragile world spins in the quiet dark,
Entangled dreams caught in threads of delight.
Glistening dew holds secrets of a dance,
Nature’s sorcery cloaked in webs of might,
A trembling heart, caught between fright and awe,
The spider watches, cloaked in mystery's embrace,
In every twist, every shimmering weave,
Fascination reigns where shadows invite.
The Spider's Serenade
In the corner, quiet and small,
A spider weaves her silken hall.
With gentle threads and careful grace,
She spins her tales in a tiny space.
Her song is soft, like a whispering breeze,
Dancing among the flowers and trees.
With each little thread, a note in the air,
A symphony spun without a care.
So listen close, to the spider's song,
In the heart of the night, where dreamers belong.
For in her web of silver delight,
She serenades the stars so bright.
The Weaver's Dance
In corners high, on silken thread,
A tiny spider weaves ahead,
With graceful loops, a glistening lace,
Nature's artist leaves her trace.
Each morning dew, a shining light,
A diamond web, so pure, so bright,
In every nook, where shadows creep,
Awake the dreams the spider keeps.
Oh, look at her—what wonders spun!
A tale of toil, beneath the sun,
With every stitch, she twirls and twines,
In nature’s garden, her art defines.
Whispers in the Web
In the corner of the room, so fine,
A spider spins her silver line.
With careful moves, she twists and twirls,
Creating beauty as day unfurls.
Each thread a tale, a secret spun,
Of moonlit nights and morning sun.
Whispers dance in the web so bright,
Of fluttering dreams taking flight.
Come, little children, gather near,
Listen closely, the stories are here!
Of tiny bugs and moonlit beams,
In every strand, there are magical dreams.
So next time you see a web in a place,
Remember the tales woven with grace.
For in the heart of a spider's art,
Are whispers of stories, a world to start!
The Web’s Whisper
O sly weaver of shadows, so deft and discreet,
In silken embrace, you lay your sweet trap,
With threads glistening under the sun’s subtle heat,
A tapestry woven, a predatory map.
The unsuspecting fly, a dance in the air,
Drawn closer by nectar’s sweet call,
Unaware of the danger that lurks unaware,
In the glimmering net, it shall rise—and then fall.
Oh, delicate artist of fate’s cruel façade,
With patience, you spin your shimmering dream,
In a world where desires are endlessly flawed,
It’s nature’s own game, and this web is supreme.
So here’s to the spider, both clever and sly,
A master of silence, of cunning design,
In shadows you linger while fate flutters by,
A dance of life and death—eternally entwined.
Twilight Threads
Silken
Whispers entwine
In the soft twilight glow
Catching dreams in fragile magic
Spider's art
Webbed Wonders
Silent corners hum,
Threads of silver drape the night,
Nature’s art unveiled.
In stillness, beauty thrives bright,
Whispers in the shadows bloom.
Evening's Web
A spider spun silk in the night,
With patterns that shimmered just right.
In the glow of the moon,
Her trap sang a tune,
As shadows danced in soft twilight.
Twilight Webs
In the dusk’s gentle embrace,
spiders flicker, weaving dreams,
each strand a whisper, a secret,
a labyrinth of silver thread
between the sigh of day and night.
They dance on air,
ghostly architects of intricate lore,
twilight glow catches their delicate threads,
shimmering like starlit wishes,
hung in the stillness.
A meticulous ballet in shadows,
each movement a prayer,
each web a canvas,
a testament to the unseen,
a world bold in its quiet persistence.
Here, under skies painted in deep blue,
they spin their tales,
faint glimmers of life,
mingling with the sigh of the moon,
echoes of creation, of fleeting grace.
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