Classic poem of the day
God with a Roll of Honour in His hand
Sits welcoming the heroes who have died,
While sorrowless angels ranked on either side
Stand easy in Elysium's meadow-land.
Then you come shyly through the garden gate,
Wearing a blood-soaked bandage on your head;
And God says something kind because you're dead,
And homesick, discontented with your fate.
If I were there we'd snowball Death with skulls;
Or ride away to hunt in Devil's Wood
...
Member poem of the day
Well timed momentary breaks When the colours all seem to fade Vigour is lost and interests fail And all appear as grey and dull The merry-go-round comes to a halt Disjunctive thoughts on absurdity In a lackluster horizon Filled with bouts of depression All on a slothful ride to freedom Eventually I shall get there But on the way having to hold on To my inertia called lethargy.