Weekly Contest
Classic poem of the day
Far away is the land of rest,
Thousand miles are stretched between,
Many a mountain's stormy crest,
Many a desert void of green.
Wasted, worn is the traveller;
Dark his heart and dim his eye;
Without hope or comforter,
Faultering, faint, and ready to die.
Often he looks to the ruthless sky,
Often he looks o'er his dreary road,
Often he wishes down to lie
And render up life's tiresome load.
But yet faint not, mournful man;
Leagues on leagues are left behind
Since your sunless course began;
Then go on to toil resigned.
If you still despair control,
Hush its whispers in your breast,
You shall reach the final goal,
You shall win the land of rest.
member poem of the day
The Critic's Pen: A Poem
With measured steps and a watchful eye,
The Critic treads where writers lie.
A tapestry of words they weave,
But secrets in the fabric are torn.
Beyond the surface, smooth and bright,
The Critic searches for a hidden light.
Does an unspeakable truth live within?
Or flaws that lurk, a subtle sin?
The touch of a scalpel, a gentle tear,
Not meant to wound, but to make things clear.
With a firm hand and a thoughtful mind,
The thread of criticism begins to untangle.
A dance of balance, dark and light,
To find there strength, weakness.
To guide the reader, hand in hand,
Through the glitter bold and quicksand.
A voice separate, yet intertwined,
With a passion for writing.
In every phrase, the search for grace,
To lift, or to find one’s place.
This poem draws inspiration from the original work “On the Margins of Thought,” but offers a m
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