Classic poem of the day
A road might lead to anywhere —
To harbor towns and quays,
Or to a witch's pointed house
Hidden by bristly trees.
It might lead past the tailor's door,
Where he sews with needle and thread,
Or by Miss Pim the milliner's,
With her hats for every head.
It might be a road to a great, dark cave
With treasure and gold piled high,
Or a road with a mountain tied to its end,
Blue-humped against the sky.
Oh, a road might lea......
Member poem of the day
Preface Translation
My place of confinement, the prison walls—to the west sits the judicial court. There are some old pagoda trees and though they are living, one can clearly perceive that ...
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