Classic poem of the day
Lord, art thou at the Table Head above
Meat, Med'cine, Sweetness, sparkling Beautys, to
Enamour Souls with Flaming Flakes of Love,
And not my Trencher, nor my Cup o'reflow?
Ben't I a bidden guest? Oh! sweat mine Eye:
O'reflow with Teares: Oh! draw thy fountains dry.
Shall I not smell thy sweet, oh! Sharons Rose?
Shall not mine Eye salute thy Beauty? Why?
Shall thy sweet leaves their Beautious sweets upclose?
As halfe ashamde my sight s......
Member poem of the day
Tonight’s sky seems flat, it could be an expanse with no shape at all. Perception, they say, is everything. I step outside in the dark, see Venus and Jupiter, mistake them as stars. Why not? What mass can I assign to a paper-thin crescent glowing phantasmal yellow-white, or to its neighbors, bright, circular specks? Heavenly bodies we call them, as if knowing their figure: globe, sphere, some kind of body-at-all. Things change form and orientation to each other— like......