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Peter Rham Milimo: Very wise and educative
MA Zakari Brainbox: A Gifted Poet.
Wegolonyo Wod Ker: Wow. . .infinity, in her gown yet the world must hold. Maya what a mighty pen from thy heart shall blood forever more. High regards!
Zeb Nicklin: Birds have wings suppressed so sings
depressed and leans on Bill Withers & Sam Cooke ilk
that A change gonna come before too long
same old song rhythm & blues diff day same issues
Let it be open the door aint no words of wisdom
you lining u the prisons
Listen to Bob & see Stevie innervisions!

Poem of the day

Carl Sandburg Poem
House
 by Carl Sandburg

TWO Swede families live downstairs and an Irish policeman upstairs, and an old soldier, Uncle Joe.
Two Swede boys go upstairs and see Joe. His wife is dead, his only son is dead, and his two daughters in Missouri and Texas don't want him around.
The boys and Uncle Joe crack walnuts with a hammer on the bottom of a flatiron while the January wind howls and the zero air weaves laces on the window glass.
Joe tells the Swede boys all about Chickamauga and Chattanooga, how the Union soldiers crept in rain somewhere a dark night and ran forward and killed many Rebels, took flags, held a hill, and won a victory told about in the histories in school.
Joe takes a piece of carpenter's chalk, draws lines on the floor and piles stove wood to show where six regiments were slaughtered climbing a slope.
'Here they went' and 'Here they went,' says Joe, and the January wind howls and the zero air weaves laces on the window glass.
The two Swede boys go downstairs with a big blur of guns, men, and hills in their heads. They eat herring and potatoes and tell the family war is a wonder and soldiers are a wonder.
One breaks out with a cry at supper: I wish we had a war now and I could be a soldier.
...

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