Classic poem of the day
Vengeance was once her nation's lore and law:
When the tired sentry stooped above the rill,
Her long knife flashed, and hissed, and drank its fill;
Dimly below her dripping wrist she saw,
One wild hand, pale as death and weak as straw,
Clutch at the ripple in the pool; while shrill
Sprang through the dreaming hamlet on the hill,
The war-cry of the triumphant Iroquois.
Now clothed with many an ancient flap and fold,
And wrinkled like an apple kep......
Member poem of the day
Blame the corpse on me, my dove, Spoons agree with dishes over food, And opportunities glide away on slime, Where dim lights peek through paper lids, To lend a limb to a falling twig, Flying on the wings of the wind, Racketed to colonies of stars; Aliens prowl trash cans Hugging neccesity’s golden bowl, Where brains spatter on mournful sidewalks, And dialogue climbs elongated trees, But the wind snatches away at wailing raindrops, Pounding hearts in splintered mortars, Denial ......
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