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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 20:09:46 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 107037
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Lost Thought
[time] => 2005-10-03 20:34:51
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => A word they say, is made of gold. when caravans, and castles fold. into the sea, then turn to cold. when night is dark, and people sold. Then out the window, through the night. the spectral of, the northern light. ben franklin and, the electric kite. the moon and sun, forever fight. Then to the sea, the wind does blow. winter's slumber, blanket of snow. the tranquil river's, northern flow. our founding fathers, will never know. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 226 [topic] => 73 [informant] => xxdeathxTOxkristixx [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => abstract )
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