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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 16:02:29 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 167016
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Pendle
[time] => 2011-08-17 15:08:52
[hometext] => I'm watching too much T.V. and writing too much trash.
[bodytext] => Jennet device identifies A child, she is, it could be lies The court admires this bastard child whose family were poor and wild No longer awkward, now a power Above her family she towers Despite her waif like infant form Her words do cause an awful storm Her mother screams as she arrives Begging for her to end her lies But Jennet quietly waits until Her mother is removed at will Then Jennet quietly names her kin As devils, witches, bent on sin Ten people hanged upon her word She sees her mother’s final glare One up one down, loose fitting rope slowly, gently dropped to choke. It takes a while to die that way Passers-by do cause affray by clambering and pulling legs merciful to the hanging dregs. Poor Jennet, now an orphan child Massachusetts did her proud Now goths and such do get their fill Of witches tales on pendle hill. Feeling such an awful fright Walking, talking, through the night. But way back then, the greatest fear Was neither dark nor light, nor clear The fear that now seems so absurd The greatest fear? A small child’s word. [comments] => 0 [counter] => 100 [topic] => 13 [informant] => poeticjestix [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )
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