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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 03-June 07:07:50 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 165235
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => T I M E
[time] => 2011-03-11 19:39:20
[hometext] => I wrote this many, many moons ago. . . being about 13 or 14. . . now 49, I appreciate time even more. . . so. . .
[bodytext] => T I M E Time is like a barrier that binds me in may ways for fear of running out / in the middle of some phase. Time is constant & reminds me of yesterdays, I had. Of I who I was & who I am & of the selves just in between waiting, waiting to spring forth; to be know. . . but do I have enough time to develop. . . even one. . . To form part of our hidden being into what it can become? Time is space in which to think to sparkle in a thought. A mearsurement to encase wisdom, to hold both real & not. Time is gentle with it's aging giving slowly what we need. Taking life, just as it gave it ever gently, time recedes. [comments] => 4 [counter] => 224 [topic] => 21 [informant] => elle [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 8 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
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