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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 17:32:44 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 106632
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead
[time] => 2005-09-27 21:06:02
[hometext] => Dedicatory poem to the story of the same title by Tom Stoppard
[bodytext] => An illusion of reality Upon a sailing ship Is brought to its finality By the ninetieth-something flip. Amazingly absurd, it seems, To keep playing the game, When dazed, as if from passing dreams, You don't even know your own name. To chase around a single man Insane with rage and hate, And conjure up the brilliant plan To go nowhere and wait. To flip a coin and question, And ask for asking's sake, Yet never make suggestion To, from the captor, break. Absurdity, like men entrenched, Taking absent-minded breath Until the comic thirst is quenched And Tom's men face their death. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 176 [topic] => 55 [informant] => bugoron [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => dedicatedpoems )
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