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Throughout this week, in the run up to Marvel’s Spider-Man, which releases this Friday, we will be bringing you a series of poems, all in different forms. Each has been plucked from a different author, and spun into a one-week anthology called Arachnidelights (Poems of a Spider-Man). Check out Monday's, Tuesday's, and Wednesday's.
For our fourth poem this week, we're taking it back. We're going old school. From Stratford – unfortunately not upon-Avon, just the Stratford that’s in East London – hails our next writer, A. Webb. By day Mr. Webb is a History teacher at a London comprehensive; by night, he's a published poet, with two short collections. We're delighted to honour The Bard, with this next one, which takes the form a sonnet. Lovely stuff.
***
Shall I compare thee to a night-time bat?
Thou art more swingy and of brighter hues.
Though also know a cheeky woman cat,
And have trouble telling her to shoo!
It must be said thou'rt lacking extra legs,
But then again He never had real wings.
I also doubt thoust knack for laying eggs,
But to buildings thou dost truly cling
And I guess thou don't have as much money,
Nor does thou speak in tones as deeply gruff;
But then thou catches way more flies with honey,
And whenst thou does thou's surely just as tough!
Either way there is much to admire,
So long as thou isn't Tobey Maguire.
***
