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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 14:14:30 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 38616
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Paprika
[time] => 2004-03-14 17:35:21
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Paprika is an ancient soul with no confusion about life. It is the colour of the setting sun Shining right into a cave Red dust floating in the air. Paprika is the first wind of morning Soaring far beyond grasp Lightly touching Nepal (Which is the colour given to special times spent with old friends). You know those ….. Drifting kinds of thoughts? Well, they’re Paprika. Paprika is a distant voice that only you can hear. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 259 [topic] => 25 [informant] => karl_wiggins [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => MiscPoems )
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