Classic poem of the day
I want to die with the dying day,
on the high sea and with my face to the sky,
where the pangs of death may seem a dream
and the soul a mew on soaring wing.
At the last, to hear no other voice,
alone already with the sky and sea,
no other voice, no other sobbing knell,
than the mighty heaving of the deep.
To die when the melancholy light
withdraws its golden nets from the green waves,
and be as yonder slowly expiring sun,
a thing......
Member poem of the day
Lying in the grass, I felt a black stain spreading from my liver outward,
Slowly but surely, it was consuming my body from the inside out.
My torso disappeared, dissolved into the blackness,
My limbs felt soft, heavy and disconnected. I was pulled into the earth,
The dark curtain fluttered in front of my eyes before obscuring my vision,
I could sense myself oozing out into the empty world.
The only things that really had to go were remnants of my exoskeleton,
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