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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 15:23:34 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 5927
[catid] => 1
[aid] => Mick
[title] => the choice
[time] => 2002-10-30 15:20:00
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => The hunchback struggles through the day,
Walking in fear of what others say. He passes by where the children play And they all stop and stare. The bus-stop poet begins to recite Words wrapped in roses and soft starlight. The passengers embark into the night, But the hunchback lacks the fare. Steam is rising from sewer grates As a darkened figure stands and waits For the poet’s words to explain his fate, Give meaning to his despair. But the poems were all written in gold With lips to kiss and hands to hold. His was the story best left untold, The moral that life’s unfair. The hunchback sighed ‘make painful art, with love gone bad and hurting heart’. The poet watches his audience depart But he doesn’t seem to care. The hunchback walks on down the street With the foggy day in full retreat, The moon well hidden and darkness sweet To curious eyes impair. My poem, he thought, will be of a soul Who lacked the fare but paid the toll. Entered life broken but left it whole. To gasp, to live, to dare. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 162 [topic] => 31 [informant] => darkeyedman [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => StoryPoetry )
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