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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 18:28:37 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 19834
[catid] => 1
[aid] => Mick
[title] => Rotten Apple Tree
[time] => 2003-07-02 16:35:00
[hometext] => (I wonderful metaphor for who I believe I am)
[bodytext] => A small fruit tree stands alone The sun shines upon him and the ground is fertile Yet he droops so low His branches are brittle Though they are still green And his leaves are dull Though he is in full season If you came to pick his fruit, turn back There were so many blossoms But they have fallen away and not an apple is to be had Once his apples could fill the mouth with joy And he was so proud of them But none would eat to their delight For they were ugly, and unkown He was too young, and they did not know So his fruit fell to the ground and as it started to rott he could only watch Now, He is too old to bear any fruit Although he is only seventeen Yet wanting to do so much He gives away rotten apples Wishing, Wishing, they were sweet. Here a rotten apple tree withers, in bitter defeat. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 227 [topic] => 21 [informant] => forsakensoul [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
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