Weekly Contest
Classic poem of the day
Master, they say that when I seem
To be in speech with you,
Since you make no replies, it's all a dream
— One talker aping two.
They are half right, but not as they
Imagine; rather, I
Seek in myself the things I meant to say,
And lo! the wells are dry.
Then, seeing me empty, you forsake
The Listener's role, and through
My dead lips breathe and into utterance wake
The thoughts I never knew.
And thus you neither need reply
Nor can; thus, while we seem
Two talking, thou art One forever, and I
No dreamer, but thy dream.
member poem of the day
Eyes on me, watching close,
A creeping sense of doom.
Is this a dream or waking nightmare?
I can't scream or cry, so I smile politely.
Inside, my heart beats like a drum,
I hope they can't hear it.
