The Hopelessness of the Egg Condition

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I haven't posted any rhyming poetry lately, so here's one I finished last night. The rhythm isn't perfect yet, but at least I (finally) have a working draft.

The Hopelessness of the Egg Condition

Old Man Dumpty had a fall
last Wednesday when the lights were out;
they say he climbed his garden wall
and fell pell-mell without a shout.

They say he meant to clear away
the ivy growing thick and fast.
They say he must have slipped and swayed
and landed on the stones and smashed.

No one wonders whether he
was happy on that Wednesday night.
They only tried to patch him up;
they cried and tried with all their might.

To no avail, as well you know,
for Old Man Dumpty died.
The story in the paper showed
of course, his sunny side.

We think of him quite kindly,
as an old, old-fashioned grump,
but no one ever wonders whether
Humpty Dumpty
jumped.

Self Doubt

....................

Here it comes again:
the steel-legged
spider
with the many marbled eyes
that's been biding
its time
in hiding
beneath my bed.

I know where it's headed.
Last time as I lay
with both eyes closed,
it crawled the line of my spine
knuckle by knuckle,
to slip atop my skull
and squeeze.

All this week it has been creeping
closer
as I sleep.
Soon it will hold me captive
again,
twitching its limber limbs
to the tune of my troubles,
watching with wide
vindictive eyes
as I writhe.

I am lying tonight
with two eyes open -
too afraid of myself
to sleep.