Little spider;
jumper, glider,
wind rider,
web slider.
Eight eyes,
Super spy,
dinner’s prize —
juicy flies.
Legs with hair,
four pairs,
bugs to snare
for evening fare.
Beauty, you,
rainbow hues,
dancing too,
a mate to woo.
Misunderstood
in the hood,
you do such good.
Praise we should.
But instead
you we dread —
swat your head,
tear your thread.
And all you do
is eat one or two
‘sqeeters that flew
(after blood they drew).
If they knew
they’d thank you.
Or maybe not,
on second thought,
no matter how many caught
when you they spot
they instinctually swat.
So hide away,
not predator, prey.
In recesses stay,
low you must lay
until some day
come what may
they shout, “Hey!
Here’s a most gorgeous spider!”

 

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Day Twenty-Eight:  Write a poem poem using Skeltonic verse.

I love spiders.
And one of my favourites is the JUMPING SPIDER. They are beautiful.
I dare you to visit this page, watch a peacock spider video and NOT fall in love with these gorgeous creatures!

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