Cult of the Spider Lady

Cult of the Spider Lady

The hidden spider duly wove the strands
of a web she imagined would prove clever.
“Victory will be mine! My cult expands!
My agents are advancing — and endeavor
to raise my substitute for Royal Zeus
above the mundane regions of resistance.
I’m tightening a complicated noose.
Slyly shall I encompass all existence!”
Alas, poor spider lady! All your threads
I observed from my place of mortal stillness.
Nothing within my being truly dreads
your silly self-deception. It’s an illness
to which my cells and tissues are immune.
It didn’t work, your plan like a cartoon.

–Tom Riley

Scary Movie

Scary Movie

He brought her to a scary movie. Why?
He figured he could get his eager hands
all over her that way. He meant to try.
Such are the efforts that the flesh demands
in many. Up on screen, on desert sands
a mummy wandered, just revivified.
Far more than any mere fan understands,
such scenes may prove prophetic. Out he cried
when her strong hands just couldn’t be denied.
She held him close and drained his life away.
Those who had shushed his outburst never spied
her exit — or they did and will not say.
She left him as do all those of her ilk:
mummified in effect, and wrapped in silk.

–Tom Riley

Full Plate

Full Plate

 
At the Countess’s
Banquet, plates are full – but
Full of spiders.

 
–Tom Riley

 

Arachnophobia Grammaton

Arachnophobia Grammaton

 
Many fine writers have a dread of spiders.
Tolkien here comes to mind – plus M.R. James.
The Stoic viewpoint rarely makes fine writers—
For all the inner motions that it tames
Are helps to human literary aims:
They color simple tales and make them full.
Arachnophobes aren’t simply playing games:
When they dish out emotion, it ain’t bull.
Alas, no fear of spiders fills my skull!
I actually admire those little guys
And gals. My attitude has made me dull
And probably has failed to make me wise.
In this, I’m pretty sure, I’m not unique.
Halloween’s coming, though. I’ll give a shriek.

 
–Tom Riley

 

Endangered

Endangered

 

Endangered spiders, lady, crowd your room—
And don’t you dare to kill a single one!
A species shouldn’t have to face its doom.
Endangered spiders, lady, crowd your room!
You don’t embrace them freely, I assume.
I know such coexistence isn’t fun.
Endangered spiders, lady, crowd your room—
And don’t you dare to kill a single one!

 

—Tom Riley

It (Short Version)

It (Short Version)

 

 

Polymorphous, “It” makes every scene
in a form that’ll turn your blood green.
Pennywise has it down.
Shit, I’m scared of that clown!
(The vast spider, King stole from Tolkien.)

 

 

–Tom Riley

Spider Heaven

Spider Heaven

 

(for Teresa)

 

The spiders that I’ve slain down through the years

Because their presence made you cry, “Dad!  Dad!”—

They wait in Spider Heaven now.  In tears,

I think of it and find it more than sad.

Arachnids in the afterlife are mad

As hell at me: their heaven is my hell!

They’ll give me worse than I have ever had.

They’ll bite my flesh and up my flesh will swell.

Or will it be my soul?  I dare not tell.

Confusion settles, deadlier than dread,

On my heart, for I’m under Shelob’s spell.

Paralyzed, I can hardly move ahead.

All that I know is that you need to pray.

Let me from Spider Heaven stay away!

 

 

–Tom Riley

(First appeared in The Lyric, v. 93, n. 4, Fall 2013)

Incredible Perceiving Man

The Incredible Perceiving Man

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Spiders are growing bigger every day—

Or else I’m shrinking in comparison.

It isn’t clear that anyone can say.

Spiders are growing bigger every day—

And every day I’m shooing them away

With far less confidence.  It isn’t fun:

Spiders are getting bigger every day—

Or else I’m shrinking in comparison.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

–Tom Riley

My Daughter’s Defender

My Daughter’s Defender

 

 

 

 

“Dad, there’s a spider!”

 

 

 

 

Because of you,

I am a mass murderer

Of innocent arachnids.

 

 

 

 

 

–Tom Riley

Evidence

Evidence

 

 

 

 

 

“Objective evidence just hurts our feelings!”

They say in answer to your evidence.

“Inhuman spiders creep across bare ceilings—

And look down and indulge a hollow sense

That chiefly actual, observed events

Determine what we ought to say and do.

For such small brains, their errors are immense.

And there amongst them, Mr. Truth, are you.

How we wish you’d begin to get a clue!

How we wish you would understand emotions!

Then your objections to us would be few.

Then you’d apply correctly-scented lotions

To all the parts that we’re content to feel.

Then you’d approve what we cannot conceal.”

 

 

 

-Tom Riley