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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 19:37:52 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 126405
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The Hymn
[time] => 2006-10-01 10:58:22
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => He starts- one movement like the coming of night. Too much like familiar etchings in colors or stone- giants standing sentry to this darkness. To try, no say attempt or fail at this jocund death. Whence came this traveler? From the sea (or the womb) from that lavender field sewn in opposition. It whispers softly, verily- say with intent. That shadowed lover- too often moving- he stands-no, say defies that chorus-and sings with them, or him (as it were) and moves softly, with the coming of night. He starts, verily, and moves often as men are wont to do. Moves, yes, say moves softly, verily, like the coming of night. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 302 [topic] => 43 [informant] => Blu [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 15 [ratings] => 3 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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