Classic poem of the day
ODE XXXV
Cupid once upon a bed
Of roses laid his weary head;
Luckless urchin not to see
Within the leaves a slumbering bee;
The bee awaked — with anger wild
The bee awaked, and stung the child.
Loud and piteous are his cries;
To Venus quick he runs, he flies;
" Oh mother! — I am wounded through —
I die with pain — in sooth I do!
Stung by some little angry thing,
Some serpe......
Member poem of the day
hot summer sun piercing
shining so brightly down
all things revealing
to the watching eye
young boys are walking
in the city big
like tourists gawking
at all the sights there is
from the small towns coming
out in the country side
visiting the city
and all the things they'll find
approaching in the distance
a vision not believed
they can't not be seeing
what they seem to see
tan mist...
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