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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 11:56:28 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 94015
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Bumbling
[time] => 2005-05-11 08:28:10
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Concerning my sister I often wonder what my father is thinking. Oh, to be a fly on his cerebrum. Reflections of my spinney hands tumbling together, tasting his gray matter. Going back for sticky seconds as my mirror-ball eyes merrily spin on. I’d flutter with glee when I find it just as I imagined. An idealistic hamster, with Jules Vern’s eyes who, instead of a wheel, peddles with stumpy legged efficiency, an old fashioned high-wheel bicycle. New-fangled, he’d say steering without a road beyond his jaunty leather cap and prescription goggles; with the playful ruffle of a fluttering scarf tickling his ears. He’d flick his nimble rodent fingers against his trusty bell, warning all pedestrians alongside his stationary, wild ride to hop aboard for some proper fun. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 176 [topic] => 43 [informant] => Nik_Howl [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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