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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 03-June 06:01:07 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 110582
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Wise Man On the Hill
[time] => 2005-11-29 16:16:10
[hometext] => A poem about fishing with my grandfather.
[bodytext] => 'Old-fasioned' he said, upon the hill Eyes of smoke, 'old-fasioned', ashes on the hill I asked him where he'd been. The lines across his face stretched, he smiled. I cast my line into the lake and we watched Hands folded on his lap, his eyes widened We waited under the shade of the willow Branches like cords and the woods Behind us, chortled with the sound of spring The soft wind brought the leaves up from the ground Whistling, tossing, snapping, chirping 'Old-fasioned' he said, his angel hair Grey, thin, and transparent Wafted to its side and he rubbed his head And smiled once more, watching The currents, like sound waves they moved Pulsing back and force, reflecting gold A bird came down from the clouds And perched upon a rock in the water Pinching its feathers and watching the water It was then that my fish came And I pulled back the line and brought it to shore My grandfather watched and smiled once more. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 160 [topic] => 31 [informant] => ScottJ [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 1 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => StoryPoetry )
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