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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 17:57:33 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 47261
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The Inspiration
[time] => 2004-05-12 21:44:19
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Darkness. I am standing. Flapping. I look up, Nothing. But I know it is there, The wind threatening to rip it From my grip. Howling, Buffeting. The field is trodden, Covered by the Slain. I sense it, I smell it. I stand alone, Victorious. What is Victory? To attain what One seeks. Yet, that which I seek is Not yet attained. My grip tightens. Again, I look up. The first rays of the Dawn Illuminate my vision. Beaucent, White, Green, and Purple. My heart races Faster than the steed I have lost. The field now visible, The vanquished no longer there, Ghosts of a distant past. Though my right side warms To the glow of the sun, My left side shivers still. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 174 [topic] => 43 [informant] => TEMPLAR2003 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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