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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 17:59:01 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 87249
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => A Mid-October Renaissance
[time] => 2005-03-12 03:32:48
[hometext] => A little microcosm-of-life poem about reclaiming the things that have been lost over the years.
[bodytext] => I get up early and call in sick. In the morning fog, I stroll the cobblestone roads of Coast Street and Elm, past saxophonists who had mastered the blues thirty years ago. As the sun creeps upward, I veer off the mossy avenues to take a walk down St. John’s pier. I stand at the end and stare, looking into the horizon and the ocean depths, both equally infinite. Nearby, a balding man chases the day’s first catch, trying to hit it with his rubber mallet. Already drunk, he seems determined to break the tranquility of this place before laying the bass to rest in the Igloo® brand coffin at his feet. Having nothing to hide, I strip and dive into the water some thirty feet below. I sink to a depth where eyes are useless and kick myself away from the pier, blindly groping and pulling through the murk. After either twenty seconds or twenty minutes, I surface and just keep swimming. I don’t really know what I hope to find, or even what there is to be found. A few hours later, as I float on my back, trying to catch my breath, I resign to the will of the sea. Nothing can break the tranquility now. I sense angels nearby, and, soon, I will join them. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 203 [topic] => 21 [informant] => butterat_zool [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 12 [ratings] => 3 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
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