Weekly Contest
Classic poem of the day
The people will live on.
The learning and blundering people will live on.
They will be tricked and sold and again sold
And go back to the nourishing earth for rootholds,
The people so peculiar in renewal and comeback,
You can't laugh off their capacity to take it.
The mammoth rests between his cyclonic dramas.
The people so often sleepy, weary, enigmatic,
is a vast huddle with many units saying:
“I earn my living.
I make enough to get by
and it takes all my time.
If I had more time
I could do more for myself
and maybe for others.
I could read and study
and talk things over
and find out about things.
It takes time.
I wish I had the time.”
The people is a tragic and comic two-face:
hero and hoodlum: phantom and gorilla
twisting to moan with a gargoyle mouth: “They
buy me and sell me . . . it's a game . . .
sometime I'll break loos...
member poem of the day
Blue
twinges
of lament
cast gaunt shadow
o’er my dreadful pang
as a grim mist segued
into dark claustrophobic
cantons where rabid zeal of hearts
once smouldered from magma’s deep red vein
Yet I cling to golden dawn recall
of lazy strolls in lush green mead
wild sniff of purple heather
neath sun-drenched sky aflame
gusts of joy rippling
froth-rim brook waltz
now toilworn
gaudy
dream
