Classic poem of the day
Come, virgin tapers of pure wax,
made in the hive of Love, all white
As snow, and yet as cold, where lacks
Hymen's holy heat and light;
Where blooming kisses
Their beds yet keep
And steep their blisses
In rosy sleep;
Where sister buds yet wanting brothers
Kiss their own lips in lieu of others;
Help me to mourn a matchless maidenhead
That now is dead.
A fine, thin negative thing it was,
A nothing with a dainty name
Which ......
Member poem of the day
Noonday dreamer weaves a blue ray visual
Sight and sound young orb amid the lunar tides
Silver trophy field of play renaissance type
mesmerising global village new wave hordes
magnum opus prodigy a limelight sponge
boy wonder figment, high-flyer on cloud nine
classroom bell transport me back to earth
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