Every Friday we'll have The Friday Poem. (A capitalized title--and italicized!--so you know it's official and whatnot.) Famous poets, obscure poets, amateur poets, whatever poets--just a poem to end the week.
Like this one:
The Man with the Wooden Leg, by Katherine Mansfield
There was a man lived quite near us;
He had a wooden leg and a goldfinch in a green cage.
His name was Farkey Anderson,
And he'd been in a war to get his leg.
We were very sad about him,
Because he had such a beautiful smile
And was such a big man to live in a very small house.
When he walked on the road his leg did not matter so much;
But when he walked in his little house
It made an ugly noise.
Little Brother said his goldfinch sang the loudest of all birds,
So that he should not hear his poor leg
And feel too sorry about it.
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