Poems On Site: 198,500+ Comments On Poems: 427,000+ Forum Posts: 105,000+ |
Custom Search
|
|
||||
Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 17:25:05 AEST | ||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
Array
(
[sid] => 62584
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Grandmother’s Cloisonné Vase
[time] => 2004-09-05 00:39:35
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Up on the highest shelf above the window that framed your roses, the little ones I thought were babies, their miniature faces squinting in the sun. I road my big wheel then, the yellow one with red handles, and round the garden I would go, until all the colors and faces blended into one. Then from the splintery gate that enclosed the yard, I would cross my eyes and hold them so, and watch the sun planting sparkles on their petals while their leaves would stretch and reach and grow. I picked those roses to your dismay, the sparkled petals, faces and all And held them up one by one while you filled the vase from above the window. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 161 [topic] => 43 [informant] => nexxa [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
|