Weekly Contest
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Classic poem of the day
A WISE OLD OWL lived in an oak;
The more he saw the less he spoke;
The less he spoke the more he heard:
Why can't we all be like that bird?
member poem of the day
Darkness preys on the lonely. It cleaves reality from clarity, often blurring the lines between shadow and shape. Its tendrils claw away at our notions of comfort and security, replacing truth with vulnerable subjectivity. A man caught lonesome in the dark falls powerless victim to nothing at all, plagued by fear, completely unscathed. Inside, panic takes charge, though outside no fiend may strike. Allied, one may yet dissipate the mist of the night, but alone no plight withstands that which weighs upon one's very breath. Darkness preys on the lonely. It amplifies sorrows and trivializes victories. Makes obsessions untameable and obstacles unmoveable. Lengths and depths no longer can be calculated, and what was once accurate measure becomes suggestive speculation. Judgement and discernment dissolve, as nothing and everything become the only descriptors. Darkness preys on the lonely. It amalgamates evil and good. Necessity and desire. Passion and perversion. What was once...
Weekly Contest
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