"The Spider's Web" by Utagawa Kunisada‘A Spider in My Room’ and Other Poetry by Radhika Bianchi The Society December 16, 2021 Beauty, Culture, Humor, Poetry 6 Comments . A Spider in My Room In the corner, there’s a spider Between the ceiling and the wall. Its legs are long, its body small, Seeing it there my eyes grow wider, Fearing it to be the kind Of spider I’ve been warned about. I swallow back a piercing shout And try to see the telltale line On its back that makes it look Like a tiny violin. But the line, so very thin, Evades my eyes in that dark nook. I do not dare approach too near, Anxious it might jump on me, So stripy legs I cannot see, Nor the six eyes that I fear. Is the deadly Brown Recluse Or its gentle predator— The Tiger Spider—by my door? I just can’t tell. Oh, it’s no use! But just as I decide, it seems, To kill the spider anyway, With a fatal blast of spray, I remember several dreams Wherein I, like a fighter, Lost in labyrinthine halls, On bloodied knees and elbows crawled, Followed by a giant spider. Now, as I turn my gaze behind, I’m tormented by the doubt: Is it there to help me out? It doesn’t move and I’m inclined To think that maybe I mistook The chilling semblance of its skin For its character within. But then it speaks and I am shook By these eerie words I hear: “Tranquil you will never be Because you came from inside me, And I exist in you, my dear. But you are, sadly, too obtuse; The truth you run from and ignore— That you and I, down to the core, Are both the Tiger and Recluse— Means you abhor your darker themes; Just look at how you crawl away, Trying to keep my touch at bay, So, I come to you in dreams.” Before the monster gets away I squeeze the can and spray, and spray! And though the spider falls, reduced, I fill my room with toxic juice. I stumble out and slam the door, Coughing, hands and knees to floor, To the bathroom, wash my tears, And when I glance up at the mirror In horror, I jump back to see Six beady eyes staring at me! I blink and take another look, Confirmed: my face her likeness took, And limbs increased from four to eight. Forlorn, I mourn my beastly fate. Now I see without a doubt The truth in what she spoke about. When, again, in dreams I spy her In her nest, I crawl beside her. Cradling me ever tighter, She whispers, “Incy, Wincy Spider.” . . A Sonnet for My Sister Like waves breaking on a sandy shore, You come and go. You wash your love o’er me Then quickly draw away; the gritty floor Beneath shows tiny skeletons in your sea. My fault, in part: my little shadow, who I scorned to please my friends (in time I learned You were my truest one). You grew into My foe; in violently volcanic fights we burned. Though poles apart we’re bound through blood; our veins Entwine, our hearts reach out and can’t let go. Our youthful joy and heartache still remains In lamps of memory I keep aglow. As scars fade away with time, we’ll face And shed our heavy past in our embrace. . . Young Girl in Bluebell Woods Deep in the springtime woods dappled with sunlight I Wandered, quietly gathering daffodils. Blossoms were sprouting on moss-covered trees over Bluebells that carpeted whispering woodland hills. Glistening dewdrops, aroma of humid earth, Primeval ferns fanned in flourishing multitudes, Buzzing of bugs through the spotlights of sun and the Singsong of birds filled the sweet, silent solitude. Dreaming of fairies, imagining magical Creatures of beauty and heart-aching loveliness Dancing and singing, surrounding, embracing me, Taking away my long-hungering loneliness. Quietly, pensively, gathering daffodils, I gazed up at canopies, watched the birds fly. I took a deep breath and stood perfectly still, Wondering why I felt empty inside. . . Radhika Bianchi lives in Santiago, Chile (her mother’s birthplace) and is an artist and English teacher. She was raised in Los Angeles, California. NOTE TO READERS: If you enjoyed this poem or other content, please consider making a donation to the Society of Classical Poets. NOTE TO POETS: The Society considers this page, where your poetry resides, to be your residence as well, where you may invite family, friends, and others to visit. Feel free to treat this page as your home and remove anyone here who disrespects you. Simply send an email to email@example.com. Put “Remove Comment” in the subject line and list which comments you would like removed. The Society does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or comments and reserves the right to remove any comments to maintain the decorum of this website and the integrity of the Society. Please see our Comments Policy here. CODEC News:Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)Click to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) 6 Responses Paul Freeman December 16, 2021 Those first two poems I found absolutely amazing. A profound narrative poem to set every arachnophobe on course to break Usain Bolt’s 100m record, and an oh so truthful look at the estrangement of siblings. At this time of year, the latter poem gives one pause. Thanks for some terrific reading, Radhika. Reply Radhika Bianchi February 1, 2022 Thank you so much! I love this “to set every arachnophobe on course to break Usain Bolt’s 100m record”. LOL! Great comedic imagery there. Reply Mia December 19, 2021 Great poems. Thank you and very well done. Reply Radhika Bianchi February 1, 2022 Thank you very much! Reply Tlhopho Sole December 23, 2021 wow..Love the sonnet for my Sister.Can truly relate with it Reply Radhika Bianchi February 1, 2022 Thank you, I’m glad you were able to connect with it. <3 Reply Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. Δ This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.