Classic poem of the day
Folly, Vice and Pride,
My Pen must deride,
Where-ever they are known to reign;
Tho' with Fortune blest,
And in Titles drest,
It shall ne'er damp the Critic Strain:
I despise the Set,
Who, themselves forget,
And are of Fortune's Favours vain,
2.
View our Royal King,
See all Virtues spring
Within his lovely sacred Breast;
Nature's Favourite,
...
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......
