Classic poem of the day
After the first powerful plain manifesto
The black statement of pistons, without more fuss
But gliding like a queen, she leaves the station.
Without bowing and with restrained unconcern
She passes the houses which humbly crowd outside,
The gasworks and at last the heavy page
Of death, printed by gravestones in the cemetery.
Beyond the town there lies the open country
Where, gathering speed, she acquires mystery,
The luminous self-possession of ships o......
Member poem of the day
Last night remains a scent
Remembered at slow length –
Drawn from the air, lingering about –
A secret kept under my breath.
The union of your soft lips
Upon mine – warm and precious –
Mixed with your fingertips
Touching my arms were luxurious.
Your flirting, like your words, stumbled –
Became nervous on cue.
Your eyes – brown like truffles –
We...
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