Classic poem of the day
Quis hic locus, quae regio, quae mundi plaga?
What seas what shores what grey rocks and what islands
What water lapping the bow
And scent of pine and the woodthrush singing through the fog
What images return
O my daughter.
Those who sharpen the tooth of the dog, meaning
Death
Those who glitter with the glory of the hummingbird, meaning
Death
Those who sit in the stye of contentment, meaning
Death
Those who suff......
Member poem of the day
Long green grasses stir in the gentle breeze
bright summer sun beats down upon them
cool fragrant scent rises up into the air
carried across the land in the gentle breeze
bright blossoms of yellow shine in the sun
gently wave in the breeze as they follow the sun
their bright sent mixes into the air
gentle summer breeze carries the scent of life
land slowly rises curving up into the sky
forming into mountains covered in trees
rising...
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