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| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 10-June 17:40:41 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 116511
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => 7
[time] => 2006-03-16 14:17:44
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => The seven travelers, horse and wagon to the west On a gold rush of merits pondering their success California and the Grapes of Wrath They brave the continent a terrain unlike last The seven tribes of the forest of darkness They spend their lives singing and dancing They remain true to their wives even when at war They hunt skin only to stay warm in the winter The seventh day provided majestic restfulness The air was sensational and the trees sky-rocketed The water flowed like a spiritual stream The light struck the sunflower like a laser beam The seventh month of the lunar year had entered The night of the Alaskan sun had tempered While night was as bright as day The rainbow of the region refused to rot away The seven ghosts that talk to me at night They give me advice and counsel me on life They sit in a circle and surround me with care They are undead messengers free of common despair The seventh minute of this hour has come and ticked on by On the Williamsburg bridge the seven train races to its next stop Through my window the musical orchestra that plays Seven band members each a talent at their respective arts The seventh stanza of this one sided perspective has begun The seven stories, although arbitrarily, have a twist I have yet to spun…. _______________ _______________________ [comments] => 1 [counter] => 157 [topic] => 43 [informant] => Mangos [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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