Classic poem of the day
The Tarahumara Indians have come down,
sign of a bad year
and a poor harvest in the mountains.
Naked and tanned,
hard in their daubed lustrous skins,
blackened with wind and sun, they enliven
the streets of Chihuahua,
slow and suspicious,
all the springs of fear coiled,
like meek panthers.
Naked and tanned,
wild denizens of the snow,
they—for they thee and thou—
always answer thus the inevitable quest......
Member poem of the day
I could never remember when
or where or how we got The Box.
It was just sitting there one day,
on the lounge room floor,
brown, big enough to fit a huge, enormous, gigantic television in.
Nana said
“I got this from work, I hope you have fun, but whatever you do, don’t get in the way of Pop when he’s watching TV, but other than that, the box is
all yours.”
All Yours?
Matt and I looked excitedly at The Box.
...
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