Classic poem of the day
Here once flint walls,
Pump, orchard and wood pile stood.
Blue periwinkle crawls
From the lost garden down into the wood.
The flowerless hours
Of winter cannot prevail
To blight these other flowers,
Blue china fragments scattered, that tell the tale.
Member poem of the day
Little spiders on the floor,
Who knows what they're waiting for?
They'll creep around without a sound,
Looking for a place to stay.
First they rested in the sink.
But soon they cried, "That's far too wet!"
The spiders didn't like the sink.
So now they had to try and think.
And then one said "Why not the shed?"
The spiders rested in the shed.
But soon they cried "It's far too old!"
The spid...
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