Weekly Contest
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Classic poem of the day
A ship from Valparaiso came
And in the Bay her sails were furled;
She brought the wonder of her name,
And tidings from a sunnier world.
O you must voyage far if you
Would sail away from gloom and wet,
And see beneath the Andes blue
Our white, umbrageous city set.
But I was young and would not go;
For I believed when I was young
That somehow life in time would show
All that was ever said or sung.
Over the golden pools of sleep
She went long since with gilded spars;
Into the night-empurpled deep,
And traced her legend on the stars.
But she will come for me once more,
And I shall see that city set,
The mountainous, Pacific shore —
By God, I half believe it yet!
member poem of the day
Last night I wrote a symphony –
“Corrugated Recycles” I call it –
on the back of a pizza box.
It starts with strings playing pizzicato,
lumbers deep into horns covered in grease,
then cymbals, like giant pepperoni, crash.
The second movement creeps up the side
onto the top: “Cosmic Pizza” is all percussion,
rise and expansion, sustain, rest.
Movement three goes inward,
the most obscure and difficult part,
cluttered with crust and crumbs, real cheese,
stains too dark, too somber for any but celli,
summoning aged wood
like twelve year barreled bourbon.
Finally, up the inside lid, closure,
a simple melody to light the tunnel –
done in thirty minutes or it’s free.
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Cropped print of four panels each depicting one of the four seasons personified by a woman
