Classic poem of the day
Like a drummer's brush,
the rain hushes the surface of tin porches.
Reprinted by permission of the author.
Member poem of the day
There is beauty in her.
The way she moves,
Like she’s in a perfect rhythm with the earth.
She hums in sweet sixths with the birds,
While I settle in dissonance,
Lost in the sound.
There is wonder in her;
Her eyes gleam with passion,
and the birds sing, now in thirds.
Meanwhile, I remain in dissonance,
Lost in the sound.
There is fiction in her;
the way she smiles,
and time comes to a halt for a single moment.