Classic poem of the day
My pony's tracks
Being buried
Under the snow that has fallen since,
Those whom I have outstripped
Will be puzzled which way to go.
Member poem of the day
The computer-poets stand hushed
except for the faint hum
of their efficient fans,
waiting for inspiration.
It is years now
since they were first ground
out of refurbished silicon
into rack-mounted encoders of sound.
They outlived their creators and their usefulness;
they even survived
global warming and the occasional nuclear winter;
despite their lack of supervision, they thrived;
so that for cent...