Classic poem of the day
Lead the black bull to slaughter, with the boar
And lamb; then purple with their mingled gore
The ocean's curled brow, that so we may
The sea-gods for their careful waftage pay:
Send grateful incense up in pious smoke
To those mild spirits, that cast a curbing yoke
Upon the stubborn winds, that calmly blew
To the wish'd shore our long'd-for Montague.
Then, whilst the aromatic odours burn
In honour of their darling's safe return,
The Mus......
Member poem of the day
Little spiders on the floor,
Who knows what they're waiting for?
They'll creep around without a sound,
Looking for a place to stay.
First they rested in the sink.
But soon they cried, "That's far too wet!"
The spiders didn't like the sink.
So now they had to try and think.
And then one said "Why not the shed?"
The spiders rested in the shed.
But soon they cried "It's far too old!"
The spid...
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