Classic poem of the day
‘Come, neighbours, no longer be patient and quiet,
Come let us go kick up a bit of a riot;
I am hungry, my lads, but I've little to eat,
So we'll pull down the mills and seize all the meat:
I'll give you good sport, boys, as ever you saw,
So a fig for the justice, a fig for the law.’
Then his pitchfork Tom seized—‘Hold a moment,’ says Jack,
‘I'll show thee thy blunder, brave boy, in a crack.
And if I don't prove we had better be ......
Member poem of the day
musings of a front-porch priest
Some days, when creaking on the swing to watch
the world, the wind is only wind and not
a whispered prayer. Those days I do not catch
the punchline of the squirrel’s chittered joke,
or Ave Maria sung by white-robed choirs
of cable-swaying doves. The wrinkled leaves
are leaves that must be raked — they do not declare
that life requires death, that sound must live
with silence. Days like these,...
