Classic poem of the day
Vile potabis.
Born to be the plain man's friend,
Come, and to his taste descend;
In temperate draughts, from cans for household use,
Drink lean Salinum 's healthful juice.
'Tis thin, and hard — but, ah Maecenas knows,
What aid from strength, to pitied weakness flows:
I, my great patron, lending Grecian lees ,
Taught the sweeten'd Sharp to please:
'Twas Maecenas — let me, stay —
Ay! 'twas done, on that dear day ,
...
Member poem of the day
musings of a front-porch priest
Some days, when creaking on the swing to watch
the world, the wind is only wind and not
a whispered prayer. Those days I do not catch
the punchline of the squirrel’s chittered joke,
or Ave Maria sung by white-robed choirs
of cable-swaying doves. The wrinkled leaves
are leaves that must be raked — they do not declare
that life requires death, that sound must live
with silence. Days like these,...
