Classic poem of the day
Then Temperance, with bridle in her hand,
Did mildly look upon this lifeless lord,
And like to weeping Niobe did stand:
Her sorrows and her tears did well accord;
Their diapason was in self-same cord.
Here lies the man, quoth she, that breath'd out this, —
" To shun fond pleasures is the sweetest bliss."
No choice delight could draw his eyes awry'
He was not bent to pleasure's fond conceits;
Inveigling pride, nor world's sweet vani......
Member poem of the day
In my dreams, I see them all,
the ones who let you slip away.
The neighbour who laced the earth with death,
letting you lap up that toxic mess,
your little body wracked with pain,
stumbling, lost, into the street,
only feet from your own front door,
Perhaps they didn’t want to pay for a professional.
The driver who did not apply the brakes,
who felt the bump and carried on,
leaving you alone, afraid,
dying on the roadsid...
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