Weekly Contest
Classic poem of the day
At seven, when I go to bed,
I find such pictures in my head:
Castles with dragons prowling round,
Gardens where magic fruits are found;
Fair ladies prisoned in a tower,
Or lost in an enchanted bower;
While gallant horsemen ride by streams
That border all this land of dreams
I find, so clearly in my head
At seven, when I go to bed.
At seven, when I wake again,
The magic land I seek in vain;
A chair stands where the castle frowned,
The carpet hides the garden ground,
No fairies trip across the floor,
Boots, and not horsemen, flank the door,
And where the blue streams rippling ran
Is now a bath and water-can;
I seek the magic land in vain
At seven, when I wake again.
member poem of the day
A day fed with loose promises, promises to bring forth a cup full of ecstatic electric life In the form of wine, a deep velvet entrances my senses until I’m falling over my heels Drunken stupors pronouncing love in the form of forgotten letters Written to girls in sweatpants with curly hair and good hearts Too sweet for a mind so sour Drowning in a sea of ale A bitter endless swim Swam uphill to fulfill some prophecy that promises dragonhood In an image of her wearing my hoodie on an autumn morning Fill my glass with a Russian elixir meant to wipe motherboard minds of nights spent not sleeping until she comes to bed After a midnight track of being overworked and underpaid. Hot flashes can only be dowsed with the cool relief that absinthe brings I’ve always liked Peter Pan, but never got to know his fairy Never got to see how not growing up can be such a nuisance Never got to live without seeing a beloved covered in a deep velv...
