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Classic poem of the day

If " compression is the first grace of style, "
you have it. Contractility is a virtue
as modesty is a virtue.
It is not the acquisition of any one thing
that is able to adorn,
or the incidental quality that occurs
as a concomitant of something well said,
that we value in style,
but the principle that is hid:
in the absence of feet, " a method of conclusions " ;
" a knowledge of principles, "
In the curious phenomenon of your occipital horn.

member poem of the day

I peered deeply into a water trickling  dyke clustered by pale blue and green peebles.
“Oh dear I sometimes dig too deep or maybe not diffidently.
Damon Deep thinker, lost in thought type.”
There is that mind of mine appearing to write my words for me.
It’s always been like this for this wayfarer.
But not for long as I symbolically dragged myself and my knapsack away.
From a heavenly hypnotising spot.
There were beguiling distractions at my feet ironically that tantalise.
The erect unwinged  stem of the figwort whose lipped structure bore maroon and green coloring, circular leafs pointy and toothlike could also emit a disagreeable odour.
Also the garlic mustard, wild flower with seedpods  on rotund stalks, heart-shaped pale green leafs with white petals.
In tandem with the wild angelica, this short-lived perennial or annual, a bearer of purple hued stems and oval umbels of tiny white or pale pink flow

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