Classic poem of the day
The mist-wrapp'd mountains stand like grisly shadows,
The driving clouds come blinding from the west,
O'er the black marshes, and the dripping meadows,
And the swollen river's breast.
The clouds hang heavily in laden masses
On the hilltops, or wildly eastward roll;
The struggling wind moans in the mountain passes,
Like an imprison'd soul.
Who now could call up gleams of sunny weather
Flooding the plain and dancing on the ......
Member poem of the day
I was born looking up.
My arms outstretched,
feet arched
and ready to leap.
The world said
“We don’t have space
for someone so soft,
someone so sweet.”
It was fire they wanted,
In the form of sharp teeth.
I listened to them,
but forgot how to breathe.
They said to be strong,
I couldn’t cry.
They said to be worthy,
I couldn’t be shy.
They used words for my kind...
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