Classic poem of the day
Of all the sports that please the rural throng,
The goal first claims the effort of my song;
Where mimic war its evolutions shows,
To fly, to harass, to pursue and close.
By games like this imperial Rome began,
Where beardless childhood play'd the warlike man.
Some hoary sage, rever'd by all the train,
Who long had been the champion of the plain,
With placid smile, not with tyrannic sway,
Waves back the crowds, the willing crowds obey......
Member poem of the day
CURSE OF THE WEREWOLF'S WIFE
By the time the moon
is replete and brimming
and his transformation
is complete, she has
prepared herself accordingly
with liner and with shadow,
a touch of rouge upon each cheek,
the barest gown to accentuate
her vulnerability beneath.
This time she spends
before her mirrors is used
to bait his awful needs,
to sate his raging appetite
and hold hi......
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