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Fiction is like a spider's web, attached ever so slightly perhaps, but still attached to life at all four corners. Often the attachment is scarcely perceptible.

quote by Virginia Woolf
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The Sinner and The Spider

Sinner.

What black, what ugly crawling thing art thou?

Spider.

I am a spider——————-

Sinner.

A spider, ay, also a filthy creature.

Spider.

Not filthy as thyself in name or feature.
My name entailed is to my creation,
My features from the God of thy salvation.

Sinner.

I am a man, and in God's image made,
I have a soul shall neither die nor fade,
God has possessed me with human reason,
Speak not against me lest thou speakest treason.
For if I am the image of my Maker,
Of slanders laid on me He is partaker.

Spider.

I know thou art a creature far above me,
Therefore I shun, I fear, and also love thee.
But though thy God hath made thee such a creature,
Thou hast against him often played the traitor.
Thy sin has fetched thee down: leave off to boast;
Nature thou hast defiled, God's image lost.
Yea, thou thyself a very beast hast made,
And art become like grass, which soon doth fade.
Thy soul, thy reason, yea, thy spotless state,
Sin has subjected to th' most dreadful fate.
But I retain my primitive condition,
I've all but what I lost by thy ambition.

Sinner.

Thou venomed thing, I know not what to call thee,
The dregs of nature surely did befall thee,
Thou wast made of the dross and scum of all,
Man hates thee; doth, in scorn, thee spider call.

Spider.

[...] Read more

poem by John Bunyan
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The Princess Betrothed To The King Of Garba

WHAT various ways in which a thing is told
Some truth abuse, while others fiction hold;
In stories we invention may admit;
But diff'rent 'tis with what historick writ;
Posterity demands that truth should then
Inspire relation, and direct the pen.

ALACIEL'S story's of another kind,
And I've a little altered it, you'll find;
Faults some may see, and others disbelieve;
'Tis all the same:--'twill never make me grieve;
Alaciel's mem'ry, it is very clear,
Can scarcely by it lose; there's naught to fear.
Two facts important I have kept in view,
In which the author fully I pursue;
The one--no less than eight the belle possessed,
Before a husband's sight her eyes had blessed;
The other is, the prince she was to wed
Ne'er seemed to heed this trespass on his bed,
But thought, perhaps, the beauty she had got
Would prove to any one a happy lot.

HOWE'ER this fair, amid adventures dire,
More sufferings shared than malice could desire;
Though eight times, doubtless, she exchanged her knight
No proof, that she her spouse was led to slight;
'Twas gratitude, compassion, or good will;
The dread of worse;--she'd truly had her fill;
Excuses just, to vindicate her fame,
Who, spite of troubles, fanned the monarch's flame:
Of eight the relict, still a maid received ;--
Apparently, the prince her pure believed;
For, though at times we may be duped in this,
Yet, after such a number--strange to miss!
And I submit to those who've passed the scene,
If they, to my opinion, do not lean.

THE king of Alexandria, Zarus named,
A daughter had, who all his fondness claimed,
A star divine Alaciel shone around,
The charms of beauty's queen were in her found;
With soul celestial, gracious, good, and kind,
And all-accomplished, all-complying mind.

THE, rumour of her worth spread far and wide,
The king of Garba asked her for his bride,
And Mamolin (the sov'reign of the spot,)
To other princes had a pref'rence got.

THE fair, howe'er, already felt the smart

[...] Read more

poem by La Fontaine
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Spidey, Spider

Spidey, Spider

Spidey, spider spinning fast,
I will trap my fly at last,
eight eyes witness final swings
and roundabouts of online wings.
What brow[n] beaten beatle stagged
in cocoon so neatly tagged,
what wet silk that sets dew scene
for caught-on-hop grasshopper green?
Silk’s redigested once prey’s bagged
for protein’s precious, times are lean.

Spidey, spider, biding time,
reinforces reeling rhyme,
scuttling hither, thither, waits
sliding stealthily relates
patience monumental which
line by line shall seamless stitch.
Architect arachnidae
delicately weave, stay sly
attuned to clue vibrations rich
of honey bee or dragonfly.

Spiders stretched white web world wide
digesting juices from inside
before man's ancestors evolved,
and after they'll be buried cold
will still persist as climate change
restricts, extends, contains free range.
My countless kin waged battle royal
against ants, termites, trouble, toil,
my brood will win, grow wings though strange
this may seem now, span tree and soil.

Spidey’s kin spin, far outnumber
lazy men on planet earth
whose tasteless haste and waste encumber
ecosystems, stifle birth.
Prudent spider seeks solution
ingests pest guests. Man spreads pollution.
See impatience, profligate,
seed destruction at his gate,

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Fiction is like a spider's web, attached ever so lightly perhaps, but still attached to life at all four corners. Often the attachment is scarcely perceptible; Shakespeare's plays, for instance, seem to hang there complete by themselves. But when the web is pulled askew, hooked up at the edge, torn in the middle, one remembers that these webs are not spun in midair by incorporeal creatures, but are the work of suffering human beings, and are attached to the grossly material things, like health and money and the houses we live in.

classic quote by Virginia Woolf
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Spider's Web

The spider weaves a web so it can catch its prey
wherever it is convenient to take its hunger away.
An intricate net so finely built yet strong to withhold
all those creatures of nature that get caught in its fold.

The spider knows it will most likely do its job well
and so in the course of the day only time will tell.
It is only when something bigger comes along the way
that the web will break and from its foundations stray.

It’s made to withstand the elements of wind, rain or shine
though it appears in structure to be very delicate and fine.
It never ceases to amaze me with what precision it is made
the work of a skilled artist and product of non-human trade.

It’s made of the same basic material as the silk of the worm
which the spider spins out of its body but is sticky and firm.
The purpose behind the two though has a different motive
being to the both of them uniquely characteristic or native.

I wouldn’t like to be one of those creatures caught in the web
struggling desperately to get away and feeling its own life ebb.
The length and trouble some creatures go to in life to survive
is part of the drama that goes on in nature to keep them alive.

The spider’s web hangs securely moving gently with the breeze
and is fastened onto stationary objects that support it with ease.
Its creator waits patiently at the centre for the right time to come
when the web gives signs that food has arrived again hmm…yum.

If you then happen to see a spider’s web that’s along your way
don’t go and deliberately pull it down as it is a crime I must say.
Unless abandoned or an interference let it catch the spider’s main feed
which is based on its natural instinct of survival and not that of greed.

poem by George Krokos
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XI. Guido

You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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[9] O, Moon, My Sweet-heart!

O, Moon, My Sweet-heart!
[LOVE POEMS]

POET: MAHENDRA BHATNAGAR

POEMS

1 Passion And Compassion / 1
2 Affection
3 Willing To Live
4 Passion And Compassion / 2
5 Boon
6 Remembrance
7 Pretext
8 To A Distant Person
9 Perception
10 Conclusion
10 You (1)
11 Symbol
12 You (2)
13 In Vain
14 One Night
15 Suddenly
16 Meeting
17 Touch
18 Face To Face
19 Co-Traveller
20 Once And Once only
21 Touchstone
22 In Chorus
23 Good Omens
24 Even Then
25 An Evening At ‘Tighiraa’ (1)
26 An Evening At ‘Tighiraa’ (2)
27 Life Aspirant
28 To The Condemned Woman
29 A Submission
30 At Midday
31 I Accept
32 Who Are You?
33 Solicitation
34 Accept Me
35 Again After Ages …
36 Day-Dreaming
37 Who Are You?
38 You Embellished In Song

[...] Read more

poem by Mahendra Bhatnagar
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Spiderman

Spider man, spider man
Does whatever a spider can
Spins a web any size
Catches thieves just like flies
Look out!
There comes the spider man
Is he strong?
Listen, bud
Hes got radioactive blood
Can he swing from a thread?
Take a look overhead
Hey, there!
There goes the spider man
In the chill of the night
At the scene of a crime
Like a streak of light
He arrives just in time
Spider man, spider man
Friendly neighborhood spider man
Wealth and fame
Hes ignorant
Action is his reward
Look out!
Here comes the spider man
To him, lifes a big bang up
Whenever theres a hang up
Youll find the spider man.

song performed by Ramones
Added by Lucian Velea
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Worldwide Web Of Mind

The spider with which, with whom,
I share the sunshine of these late summer days
and the front garden – though in truth,
the silver filigree denies me two-thirds of it,
so broad the span of this ambitious engineer –

the spider which or who has grown so large
that its claws are some rapacious hawk in miniature,
almost scary in their taloned, threatening curve,
and which yesterday sat immobile in the centre of its web
either sleeping, or awaiting, or perhaps both,

is not there today; and I recall that yesterday
it had a silvery bag attached to it, which now I guess
could be some exquisite womb worn like a jewelled pride
which needs no protection..the web’s undamaged
so surely no marauding bird has pecked the spider
from the undamaged centre of this web?

Where has the spider chosen, for its special day,
Its birthing place, its private ward –
and does it have its huge emotions in miniature,
its pride, its special love, around that tiny thing?
There is no clue; the guy-ropes of its web are silent.
Will I see it in the next few days
teaching its baby all its circus tricks,
abseil, swing, launch in the wind to far-off unknown lands?

Or is it true that, having borne a little brood,
this creature, so magniificent,
gives its life to them, to c arry on the silken line?
does it know that sacrifice it makes
which is as noble as that of any man?
and will its brood also carry in their blood
a memory, inherited, that there,
across the front garden, six feet from East to West,
that silken line their mother made -
their only inheritance from her, apart from life itself,
awaits their darning needle?

I inspect carefully the web, as one might inspect
and read the menu for some blind lunching friend;
amused a little, embarrassed a little, solemn a little,
as the Creation’s relative dimensions
shrink, expand, draw me into the web of universal mind;
a filigree humility; a life not owned but shared.

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Im Going Slightly Mad

Words and music by queen
When the outside temperature rises
And the meaning is oh so clear
One thousand and one yellow daffodils
Begin to dance in front of you - oh dear
Are they trying to tell you something
Youre missing that one final screw
Youre simply not in the pink my dear
To be honest you havent got a clue
Im going slightly mad
Im going slightly mad
It finally happened - happened
It finally happened - ooh oh
It finally happened
Im slightly mad
Oh dear
Im one card short of a full deck
Im not quite the shilling
One wave short of a shipwreck
Im not my usual top billing
Im coming down with a fever
Im really out to sea
This kettle is boiling over
I think Im a banana tree
Oh dear
Im going slightly mad
Im going slightly mad
It finally happened - happened
It finally happened - uh huh
It finally happened
Im slightly mad
Oh dear
Ooh ooh ah ah
Ooh ooh ah ah
Im knitting with only one needle
Unravelling fast its true
Im driving only three wheels these days
But my dear how about you
Im going slightly mad
Im going slightly mad
It finally happened
It finally happened - oh yes
It finally happened
Im slightly mad
Just very slightly mad
And there you have it

song performed by Queen
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ODE TO A SUPERHERO

Parody of "Piano Man" by Billy Joel
Poor Peter Parker was pitiful
Couldn't have been any shyer
Mary Jane still wouldn't notice him
Even if his hair was on fire
But then one day he went to that science lab
That mutated spider came down
Oh, and now Peter crawls over everyone's walls
And he's swingin' all over town
La li la, li de da
La la, li le la da dom
Sling us a web, you're the Spider-Man
Sling us a web tonight
'Cause we're all in the mood for a hero now
And there's evil-doers to fight
Now Harry the rich kid's a friend of his
Who horns in on Mary Jane
But to his great surprise it seems she prefers guys
Who can kiss upside-down in the rain
"With great power comes great responsibility"
That's the catch phrase of old Uncle Ben
If you missed it, don't worry, they'll say the line
Again and again and again
Oh, la la la, di de da
La la, di di da da dom
Now Norman's a billionaire scientist
Who never had time for his son
But then something went screwy and before you knew he
Was trying to kill everyone
And he's ridin' around on that glider thing
And he's throwin' that weird pumpkin bomb
Yes, he's wearin' that dumb Power Rangers mask
But he's scarier without it on
Sling us a web, you're the Spider-Man
Sling us a web tonight
'Cause you're brave and you're strong and so limber now
But where'd you come up with those tights?
It's a pretty sad day at the funeral
Norman Osborn has bitten the dust
And I heard Harry's said he wants Spider-Man dead
Aw, but his buddy Pete he can trust
Oh, and M.J. is all hot for Peter now
Aw, but Peter, he just shuts her down
Mary Jane, don't you cry, you can give it a try
Again when the sequel comes 'round
Oh, la la la, di de da
La la, di di da da dom
Sling us a web, you're the Spider-Man
Sling us a web tonight
'Cause we all sure could use us a hero now

[...] Read more

song performed by Weird Al Yankovic
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Relieved again was I

A summer afternoon
Sun hidden in clouds
That formed a thin screen
Over the entire sky
Dispersed sun light

Crows flying in a formation
As I was witnessing
Through a window from
The sixth floor
Doves fluttering from
One window to the other
Hot wind blowing but
Adding some comfort to
The sweating and mildly drenched body
And wiping off some sweat inside

Busy traffic down on the roads
Exhausts’ spewing
Screaming brakes
And sudden halts
Sleepy gulmohar leaves with
Yellow little flowers on top

My eyes shifted to a bee
As it passed near my face
With a zing and a sharp sound
How quick and smart it was
I stopped watching outside
But inside the balcony
My eyes following the fast bee, our hero
Oh, my god he got stuck
Onto to a spider web
A net spread to catch a prey
“Our hero bee is a prey now”
Was my inner cry

No he was not letting that happen
Struggling with his legs
And trying to get out of the web
A big spider in the middle of the web
Woke up off its sleep
Because of ripples in the web
And fast approaching its prey

Struggle on one side
Chase on the other
Spider almost reached its prey
With its legs placed in a position
Over the struggling bee

[...] Read more

poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Sexy Ida (Part I)

Don't give your love to sexy Ida
'Cause she's the sister of a black widow spider
Don't try your love on sexy Ida
You might as well try it with some spider
She's got this long black hair, it's a hangin' on down her back
Long black pretty legs and she walks just like a cat
Hypnotic eyes and a stacked up love sack
She not only wants your love
She wants your life after that...don't do it
Don't give your love to sexy Ida
'Cause she's the sister of a black widow spider
Said you better not try it
Don't try your love on sexy Ida
You might as well try it with some spider
She's got a king sized bed with satin sheets of love
And you'll never wanna leave, no
The web of love she weaves...but I'll tell you
Don't give your love to sexy Ida
'Cause she's the sister of a black widow spider
You better not try it
Don't try your love on sexy Ida
You might as well try it with some spider
You gotta beware of sexy Ida
'Cause she tries to look so sweet and kind
But her looks can be deceivin'
'Cause her love is like strychnine
So don't give your love now
So don't give your love to sexy Ida
'Cause she's the sister of a black widow spider
Better not give your love to Ida
Don't try your love on sex Ida
You might as well try it with some spider
No, don't you give your love
Don't give your love to sexy Ida
'Cause she's the sister of a black widow spider...

song performed by Tina Turner
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Ballad Of Spider John

Ballad of spider john
By: willis a. ramsey
1974
Spider john is my name friend
Im in between freights and I sure would be obliged
If youd share your company
I know this may sound strange to you
But if you wait till the song is sung and the story is told
You might come to understand
Oh, Im old and bent and devil sent, runnin out of time
When I long ago held a royal flush in my hand
Chorus:
Oh, I was a supermarket fool
I was a motor bank stool-pidgeon, robbin my hometown
I thought I lost my blues, yes I thought I paid my dues
I thought Id found a life to suit my style
But here I sit old spider john the robber-man
Long, tall, and handsome
Yes, old spider john with a loaded hand, takin ransom
Then one day I met diamond lill
She was the sweetest thing, I declare
That the summer breeze had ever blown my way
But lilly she had no idea, of my illustrious occupation
She thought I was a saint, not a sinner, gone astray
But you see that the word got around and lilly left town
Never saw her again
Tossin and turnin, causin my heart to grieve
Chorus:
Oh, I was a supermarket fool
I was a motor bank stool-pidgeon, robbin my hometown
I thought I lost my blues, yes I thought I paid my dues
I thought Id found a life to suit my style
But here I sit old spider john the robber-man
Long, tall, and handsome
Yes, old spider john with a loaded hand, takin ransom
That is all my story
Its been these thirty years since I took to the road
To find my precious jewel one
And if you see my lilly, wont you give her my regards
Tell her ole spider got tangled in the black web that he spun
You can tell her ole spider got tangled the black web that he spun

song performed by Jimmy Buffett
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Foiled by beauty for M'lady Sally plumb

A spider web bedecked with dew.
The early morning sun shines through.
Creates a tapestry of light.
A work of art in its own right.

Because the sparkling dew negates.
The spider webs efficiency.
Until the sun evaporates
the morning dew sufficiently

The spider must wait patiently
until at last she breaks her fast
Flies tangled inextricably
in the sticky threads she cast.

The spider builds instinctively.
A trap we aren’t supposed to see.
As long as it is visible
It’s totally impossible.

For the silken trap to do
(It is designed to be unseen)
The task it is intended to.
But for the dew it would have been.

Although it’s pleasing to our eyes
We know it isn’t meant to be
It’s obvious to passing flies
who can avoid it easily.

The hungry spider would prefer
to do without the morning dew.
Which seems intent to deprive her
of fat flies which are her due.

The spider’s loss is our gain
We see the transient beauty.
Which we may never see again.
If only temporarily.

The spider web bedecked with dew
To us a source of great delight
Created each morning anew
by dew drops reflecting sun light.

Although the spider breakfasts late.
There’s little doubt she will survive.
I’m sure she will appreciate
her breakfast when it does arrive.

[...] Read more

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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First Book

OF writing many books there is no end;
And I who have written much in prose and verse
For others' uses, will write now for mine,–
Will write my story for my better self,
As when you paint your portrait for a friend,
Who keeps it in a drawer and looks at it
Long after he has ceased to love you, just
To hold together what he was and is.

I, writing thus, am still what men call young;
I have not so far left the coasts of life
To travel inland, that I cannot hear
That murmur of the outer Infinite
Which unweaned babies smile at in their sleep
When wondered at for smiling; not so far,
But still I catch my mother at her post
Beside the nursery-door, with finger up,
'Hush, hush–here's too much noise!' while her sweet eyes
Leap forward, taking part against her word
In the child's riot. Still I sit and feel
My father's slow hand, when she had left us both,
Stroke out my childish curls across his knee;
And hear Assunta's daily jest (she knew
He liked it better than a better jest)
Inquire how many golden scudi went
To make such ringlets. O my father's hand,
Stroke the poor hair down, stroke it heavily,–
Draw, press the child's head closer to thy knee!
I'm still too young, too young to sit alone.

I write. My mother was a Florentine,
Whose rare blue eyes were shut from seeing me
When scarcely I was four years old; my life,
A poor spark snatched up from a failing lamp
Which went out therefore. She was weak and frail;
She could not bear the joy of giving life–
The mother's rapture slew her. If her kiss
Had left a longer weight upon my lips,
It might have steadied the uneasy breath,
And reconciled and fraternised my soul
With the new order. As it was, indeed,
I felt a mother-want about the world,
And still went seeking, like a bleating lamb
Left out at night, in shutting up the fold,–
As restless as a nest-deserted bird
Grown chill through something being away, though what
It knows not. I, Aurora Leigh, was born
To make my father sadder, and myself
Not overjoyous, truly. Women know
The way to rear up children, (to be just,)

[...] Read more

poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning from Aurora Leigh (1856)
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z-Octogans and Revelation

I see the intricacies there
octagons and fractals;
web designs
varying.

Tensile steel it is said
characterize
the spider's web;
its strong.

At the corner of this beauty-ville
the spider lies
awaiting the kill
here death and beauty
mix
in darken night.

I can shake the cobwebs
from my head
but where in there
does my spider live?

Do the brain's spider webs
hide and reveal too
human spider kills?

How else to explain
the beauty the brain presents
and in that same brain
a killer spider lives.

So walk thee into the night
and as you brush aside that
spider web
or admire the tensile delicates
its beauty presents
understand too there lies
mayhem
and Revelation's Vision.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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The Spider And The Ant

I curiously observed an ant as it meandered,
ever closer to the spider's web.
In the corner of the window sat the spider,
a strand of web beneath its leg.

A waiting game was being played by the spider,
as the ant went this way and then the other.
How could it miss the web's support strands.
The spider bided its time and didn't bother.

The ant finally came across a strand and hesitated,
it tested its safety and then stepped back.
Surprisingly it climbed up to the labyrinth's centre,
the spider's sensors couldn't miss that.

It ran up the web and began to encase its prisoner,
but the ant fought hard against the thread.
Seconds later the spider returned to its corner
satisfied that its prey was almost dead.

poem by Orlando Belo
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Life and Happiness

Happiness in life each year now,
Takes brute strength, like pushing a cow,
Pray do not ask how,

The spider spins an intricate web around life,
A magic web now is around life
Happiness is what we make it,
Life can be better than music, if we let it,

Music can fill the air with life and happiness,
There is music in life and happiness, if we let it happen,
Everyday sounds around that intricate web of life,
Protected by that magic web,

Happiness in life each year now,
Takes brute strength, like pushing a cow,
Pray do not ask how,

Take brute strength, like pushing a cow,
That intricate web around life, is magic,
Life can be enjoyed, create happiness around you,
Music can fill the air with life and happiness,

Life takes brute strength, as you imagine,
A hidden strength,
Work at life and happiness, each day, each year,
Let that spider who spins an intricate web around life,
Now a magic web, create life and happiness.

poem by Batibchar Mocculta
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Science Fiction Woman

She was my science fiction woman,
I was her science fiction man,
Yet our love was no fiction
In our science fiction land.

I wore my science fiction spacesuit,
She wore a spacesuit just like mine,
While we were floating together
In our science fiction minds.

She said her name was Taylor Trippy-
A flower child light years beyond-
She was a science fiction hippy-
A spacey and vivacious blonde.

She told me of our global warming,
Greenhouse gases, acid rain,
She told me everything I know
About the structure of the brain.

So we cruised through constellations
In our science fiction ship,
Transcending time and generations-
Forever free, forever hip.

She came from some unknown planet
In some uncharted galaxy,
And we were both kindred souls
In our cosmic fantasy.

And I don't know how I knew her
Or how we came to meet that night-
She was my science fiction woman,
Who traveled at the speed of light.

At night I look upon the ocean,
The distant stars where she might be-
She was my science fiction woman,
Who set my heart forever free.

June 17,2008

poem by Alexander Shaumyan
Added by Poetry Lover
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