Classic poem of the day
PROLOGUE
S ELF-LOVE , which never rightly understood,
Makes poets still conclude their plays are good,
And malice, in all critics, reigns so high,
That for small errors they whole plays decry;
So that to see this fondness, and that spite,
You 'd think that none but madmen judge or write.
Therefore our poet, as he thinks not fit
T' impose upon you what he writes for wit;
So hopes, that leaving yo......
Member poem of the day
Lie here little Mirco and look up at the sky, look at the clouds forming, the shapes they make. The steadfast cloud will break and reveal the moon hidden all along, adrift and ancient in all of that blue. Follow the vapour trail of the aeroplane across blue sky, to the window I wave back from to you, waving thousands of feet below; blue sky quickens its vapours until cloud fills the eye like sleep. Look at the shapes they make, little Mirco- of everyone you will ever meet, ......