Author Archives: uldrickad

Why I Don’t Kill Spiders

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by Adriana Uldrick

I watch her in the corner there,
As, restless, bold, and unafraid,
She slips and floats along the air
Till all her subtile house is made.

Her home, her bed, her daily food
All from that hidden store she draws;
She fashions it and knows it good,
By instinct’s strong and sacred laws.

The poem opens without betraying the species of the female subject, relying only on the title to convey that “she” is a spider. In the same way, the poem is equally as secretive about the speaker of the poem who is only “I”. Despite this intense ambiguity, the first two stanzas interestingly and impressively create a fairly clear image of the scene.

No tenuous threads to weave her nest,
She seeks and gathers there or here;
But spins it from her faithful breast,
Renewing still, till leaves are sere.

The third stanza makes it a little more obvious that the subject is a spider by saying that she spins “her nest…from her faithful breast”. Even still, before the point of the poem is actually revealed, we can see how the speaker could be referring to either a spider or a woman. This possibility comes from the (kind of funny) inaccuracy of spiders spinning webs from their breast, which I think could cause the line to be interpreted as a human understanding of the fruits of one’s passionate labor.

Then, worn with toil, and tired of life,
In vain her shining traps are set.
Her frost hath hushed the insect strife
And gilded flies her charm forget.

But swinging in the snares she spun,
She sways to every winter wind:
Her joy, her toil, her errand done,
Her corse the sport of storms unkind.

The fourth and fifth stanzas pivot the poem in one of my favorite ways, using “then” and “but”. When poems start stanzas like this, I always read with extra emphasis and suspense like “….THEN!” and “…BUT!” even if the punctuation doesn’t necessarily suggest this reading. Either way, these two stanzas make good use of the words to indicate a stark time and mood change.

I also appreciate the use of poetic inversion which really doubles down on the new tone of the poem, serious and retrospective. Further, the persistent abab rhyme scheme is interrupted in the stanza, or at least stretched farther than it is in any other stanza with the rhyme of wind and unkind. When read aloud, the epic feel of the poem created by the rhyme scheme is made to be awkward and uncomfortable in this moment.

Poor sister of the spinster clan!
I too from out my store within
My daily life and living plan,
My home, my rest, my pleasure spin.I know thy heart when heartless hands
Sweep all that hard-earned web away:
Destroy its pearled and glittering bands,
And leave thee homeless by the way.

I know thy peace when all is done.
Each anchored thread, each tiny knot,
Soft shining in the autumn sun;
A sheltered, silent, tranquil lot.

I know what thou hast never known,
—Sad presage to a soul allowed;—
That not for life I spin, alone.
But day by day I spin my shroud.

Returning to the speaker’s relationship with the subject, we finally are let in to the purpose of knowing this spider. Our speaker sees herself in this spider, resonating with the loss and grief. The speaker says she spins her shroud, connecting with the poem’s namesake who in her hubris challenged a goddess and payed the price.
The connection with a spider and the further recognition that despite this connection, her human status gives her knowledge that the spider couldn’t know is a very powerful thing to acknowledge. I chose to adopt this poem not only because of the appealing rhyme and vocabulary, but because of the attitude I’ve adopted to the spiders that coexist with me in my house. In the same way that the speaker of this poem realizes the parallel struggles between her and the spider, I recognize the intrinsic value of my spiders’ lives just as I realize my own and I appreciate that we are all subject to the same fate. Who was Arachne to challenge Athena? Who am I to decide what lives or dies? I realize that it is an act of hubris to indiscriminately squash a spider simply because I can, when I curse forces larger than myself that may squash me despite my best efforts.
Cooke, Rose T. “Arachne”. All Poetry.

Home Is Where the Work Is

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by Adriana Uldrick

Louisa May Alcott’s writing feels like home to me. This is fitting since most of her writing concerns the home, but the impact her words have on me goes beyond this. Her poem “A Song from the Suds” is a fantastic representation of the type of work she produces that gives me the warm fuzzies.

Queen of my tub, I merrily sing,
While the white foam raises high,
And sturdily wash, and rinse, and wring,
And fasten the clothes to dry;
Then out in the free fresh air they swing,
Under the sunny sky.

The simple, straightforward language of this poem is the first reason why I love it so much. Because it is so easy to understand, it is easy for me to internalize and digest it. Reading this poem is like eating oatmeal in the way that it feels wholesome, comforting, and nourishing.

I wish we could wash from our hearts and our souls
The stains of the week away,
And let water and air by their magic make
Ourselves as pure as they;
Then on the earth there would be indeed
A glorious washing day!

Again, Alcott wastes no time in letting the reader know what’s going on or why she’s writing. This innocent desire to wash our hearts and souls just as we wash our laundry is undeniably adorable. Beyond this, Alcott simplifies and gives “magic” to the otherwise abstract and daunting task of purifying oneself. Though much of Alcott’s work has obviously religious overtones, I interpret the purification of this poem as independent from ideals of religious purification. Because the purification is just of “the week’s stains” (which I read as small things that stressed, hurt, or otherwise negatively affected you on a small scale) instead of the unbearable weight of sin for example, the hope that Alcott offers feels more realistic and achievable.

If achievable is not the right word to describe this hope, surely universal is. I appreciate the delicate balance between directness and ambiguity that Alcott creates with her choices of language. She is direct because of the simple language and lack of beating around the bush that I mentioned earlier, but ambiguous by not being specific about the “stains” are or what “pure” means.

In this stanza I also love what is almost a call to action, an encouragement for everyone to participate in this self-purification. It provides an altruistic perspective to bettering oneself and gives a bigger meaning to the little tasks that seem menial. For this day to be considered glorious again could hint at religion, but I think that it means glorious in the sense that it is overwhelmingly delightful…which is a remarkable feeling to encounter while doing the laundry.

Along the path of a useful life
Will heart’s-ease ever bloom;
The busy mind has no time to think
Of sorrow, or care, or gloom;
And anxious thoughts may be swept away
As we busily wield a broom.

What a perfect picture Alcott paints!! A life paved productivity and meaning lined by blooming flowers of “heart’s-ease” is all I could ever ask for.

I do love the first half of this poem, but the second half is particularly special to me…I feel like these last two stanzas are the most impactful. In fact, I think the poem could be summarized by the single line “The busy mind has no time to think”. The clever sweeping away of anxious thoughts by a broom is especially compelling to me because of my own struggles with anxiety, which I would take great pleasure in seeing turn into dust so I could sweep it up. Alcott makes the intangible tangible, which makes coping with any “stains” easier.

I am glad a task to me is given
To labor at day by day;
For it brings me health, and strength, and hope,
And I cheerfully learn to say-
“Head, you may think; heart, you may feel;
But hand, you shall work always!”

This stanza is relevant to what I mentioned earlier about how Alcott gives significance and appreciation to the otherwise menial and dull. This love for the things that many people, myself included, dread in our daily lives truly is magical and is so worthwhile.

Due in part to the simple language that I keep doting on, this poem is extraordinarily memorable. The tagline that Alcott provides at the end adds to the poem’s memorability, giving me a mantra to repeat to myself when my chores seem overwhelming or my work loses its appeal. Actually, this sentiment of Alcott has been with me since I first read Little Women eight years ago and because of the affinity I have for the novel (especially the opening chapter), the meaning of this poem is reinforced by nostalgia.

Even for readers who do not have this nostalgic connection though, I believe that the feeling the poem invokes is inevitable. Alcott tactfully relies on familiar concepts and such comfy, uplifting language that you can’t help but smile at.