Weekly Contest
Classic poem of the day
Quoth the thief to the dog, let me into your door
And I'll give you these delicate bits.
Quoth the dog, I shall then be more villain than you're,
And besides must be out of my wits.
Your delicate bits will not serve me a meal,
But my master each day gives me bread;
You'll fly, when you get what you came here to steal,
And I must be hang'd in your stead.
The stockjobber thus from 'Change Alley goes down,
And tips you the freeman a wink;
Let me have but your vote to serve for the town,
And here is a guinea to drink.
Says the freeman, your guinea to-night would be spent!
Your offers of bribery cease:
I'll vote for my landlord to whom I pay rent,
Or else I may forfeit my lease.
From London they come, silly people to chouse,
Their lands and their faces unknown:
Who'd vote a rogue into the parliament-house,
That would turn a man out of his own?
member poem of the day
MY WRITINGS FROM MY PAST UP TILL NOWÂ EACH TELL A STORY IN THEIR OWN WAYÂ Â HOW I FELT ON ANY GIVEN DAYÂ THEY TELL OF WHAT I HAVE BEEN THROUGH IN LIFEÂ Â THEY SPEAK OF MY HAPPINESSÂ THEY SPEAK OF MY STRIFEÂ Â THEY TELL OF MY SECRETS,MY HABITS,MY LIESÂ THEY TELL OF THE TIMES I'VE JUST SAT DOWN TO CRYÂ Â THEY TELL OF MY ADDICTION ,FOR SO LONG I HIDÂ THEY TELL OF THE DRUGS I ONCE DIDÂ Â THEY TELL OF HOW I WAS SAVED BY MY KIDSÂ THE SPEAK OF VISIONS, DREAMS THAT I HAVEÂ Â THEY WILL TELL YOU OF A TIME WHEN I FELT ALONE AND SADÂ THEY EXPLAIN MY ANGER, HOW EASY I GET MADÂ Â THEY TELL YOU THINGS I DID THAT MADE ME FEEL BADÂ THEY TELL MY CHILDHOOD STORY IN RHYMING WORDSÂ Â THEY TELL WHY I TURNED TO DRUGSÂ THEY TELL OF MY CHILDREN HOW I LOVE THEIR HUGSÂ Â THEY SPEAK OF MY FEELINGS, OF OTHER PEOPLE'S LIESÂ THEY TELL OF A BATTLE I HAVE FOUGHT MY WHOLE LIFEÂ Â THEY SPEAK OF HOW AT NIGHT I PRAYÂ THEY TELL OF THE PEOPLE WHOM IN MY LIFE I LET S...
