Classic poem of the day
Scarcely the hush of horror gives way thro' the country,
Ere from the Westland breaks the wild war-cry that grieves us.
Here the oppressor has come, he has reaped his rude harvest,
And the black ridges are left in the desolate cornfield.
Low lies the village; the people stand, dull and disheartened,
Wondering what miscreant shall march with the banner of Freedom.
Oh! thou blue banner of God, with the stars of thy promise,
Wave in thy fury, avenge this usurping ......
Member poem of the day
The following poem inspired by
a book titled The Hidden Life of Trees:
What They Feel, How They Communicate
by Peter Wohlleben.
Dark clouds furrowed
what eerily resembled
strong resemblance to Neanderthal brow
(forebears of humans
who possessed an uncanny
knick knack paddy whack
give the DogWood a bone)
one prominent knotted
dark, circular, or patchy imperfection
formed where ...