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- 3
- 08:03 am
“The wild vine slipping down leaves bare / Her bright breast shortening into sighs”
- 1 comment
- 5
- 08:17 am
"don't solicit for your sister, that's not nice / unless you get a good percentage of her price"
- 12 comments
- 10
- 08:23 am
"fish gotta swim and birds gotta fly / but they won't last long if they try"
- 5 comments
- 12
- 08:45 am
"What is ... / Poetry? That means writing / Doomsday-accounts of our souls."
- 2 comments
- 13
- 10:52 am
"today i don't need a replacement / tell them what the smile on my face meant"
- 14
- 12:42 pm
"Beautiful over the housetops, ghastly, phantom moon, / Immense and silent moon"
- 3 comments
- 17
- 08:09 am
“Let me alive my pleasures have: / All are Stoics in the grave.”
- 7 comments
- 19
- 08:15 am
"Real are the dreams of Gods, and smoothly pass / Their pleasures in a long immortal dream."
- 3 comments
- 21
- 09:07 am
"We, in some unknown Power's employ, / Move on a rigorous line"
- 24
- 07:52 am
"The iron bit he crusheth 'tween his teeth, / Controlling what he was controllèd with"
- 4 comments
- 28
- 12:21 pm
Offered without comment
- 5 comments
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- 30
- 08:14 am
"they'll kiss as if they know / a baby sleeps in all our bones, so scared to be alone"
- 8 comments
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Active Entries
- 1: “this city desert makes you feel so cold / it’s got so many people but it’s got no soul”
- 2: “i’mma wade, i’ma wave through the waters / tell the tide ‘don’t move’”
- 3: “seasons change and our love went cold / feed the flame ’cause we can’t let go / run away”
- 4: “love, i don’t like to see so much pain / so much wasted and this moment keeps slipping away”
- 5: “But I, alas, do not know how to see sheep through the walls of boxes.”
- 6: “here is the church here is the steeple / you were looking for saints but you only found people”
- 7: “i’d like to save every day / till eternity passes away / just to spend them with you”
- 8: “and he said to the man running the stand / ‘hey! (pom pom pom) got any grapes?’”
- 9: “i just found this smile to think about you / you’re a saturday night far from the madding crowd”
- 10: “Only the querulous cricket grieves, / And shrilling locust weaves / A song of summer dead.”
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