Weekly Contest
No contests this week.
Classic poem of the day
Berryman and Baxter,
Prettiboy and Penn
And old Farmer Middleton
Are five big men ...
And all of them were after
The Little Black Hen.
She ran quickly,
They ran fast;
Baxter was first, and
Berryman was last.
I sat and watched
By the old plum-tree ...
She squawked through the hedge
And she came to me.
The Little Black Hen
Said, " Oh, it's you! "
I said, " Thank you,
How do you do?
And please will you tell me,
Little Black Hen,
What did they want,
Those five big men? "
The Little Black Hen
She said to me:
" They want me to lay...
member poem of the day
THIS STORY HAPPENED WHEN I WAS A LAD
about a stray cat there in our backyard.
Oft hanging out there, she’s as if our cat;
in fairness, though, she’s cute and kinda fat.
OH, DON’T FEED HER, SHE CAN LIVE ON HER OWN.
How? She’s good at catching birds on the lawn.
Till birds do come around, she’ll never die;
there in her paws her securities lie.
ONE DAY MY MOM TOOK NOTICE OF THIS CAT
and thought of treating her like a spoiled brat.
Day in day out, excess food to cat went;
gotten so used, hunting birds she forwent.
BUT THEN, ONE FATEFUL DAY SOMETHING HAPPENED.
It told of what’s correct, what’s mistaken.
It proved nothing could permanently glow:
“What’s boon today may be bane tomorrow!”
WHAT HAPPENED? WELL, MY MOM HAD HIRED A MAID;
the things the maid should
