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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 16:39:15 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 172442
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Gardener
[time] => 2012-05-10 14:24:07
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => A cool breeze A cold breath Vision clouded for a moment, The gardener, pipe in mouth, Fumbles with gloved hands in the depths Of his pockets. The black, rust riddled gate creaks Twice and into the walled garden, Heaven, He trudges, rust riddled knees. Shafts of sunlight Bright, chilly, blinding light Filter through the willow boughs Casting surly shadows low. The hunched raven calls From behind the walls. He is behind those bricks As is the rest of the world, As is what is to come If indeed there is anything Beyond. [comments] => 0 [counter] => 148 [topic] => 64 [informant] => sebgreen [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => ambiguous )
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