Classic poem of the day
A night when wastes of uplands wan were grey with silvering snow,
A shed that shouldered back the blast one dark night long ago
When panted on his mother's breast the little life and new.
Shepherds and kings kneel here alike, and shall I not kneel too
I see no formless temple-god white pontiffs laud and pray,
I only see the happy face look out among the hay,
O son of Mary, starry-eyed,
Hear but my cry, my heart has cried,
I find thee thus today.
...
Member poem of the day
courtesy thee youngest sister of mine
The special parcel
courtesy Amazon courier
hurriedly delivered softbound book before
yours truly could thank him/her cuz he/she
dropped off outside our apartment door,
upon opening the well sealed package
my lower jaw dropped to the floor,
when I beheld the unpronounceable title
dealing with Holocaust
never knowing heretofore
a specific name
(of those faceless millions)
destroyed...