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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 17:17:46 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 47289
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Summer
[time] => 2004-05-13 01:25:12
[hometext] => 5-12-04
[bodytext] => Summer moils in the tomb of the exasperated Winter as the last of her tumultuous seed are Burnt in the noontime brilliance of the ochre Sun. The southern breeze whispers of hushed Waves on eternal seas dotted with aqua-Marine diamonds in the firebursting Yellowness of the day. Humming bees toil in vast gardens that cry For the patient hand of Monet to give them Voice and immortality in the perfect Imperfection of his impressionistic Brushes. Thus it is with the summer, Thus it is with longing, The world is anew,but with one word, Summer. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 144 [topic] => 27 [informant] => slayer_015 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => NaturePoetry )
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