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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 02-June 20:15:51 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 128904
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => To the Savory Sods
[time] => 2006-12-01 08:37:30
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Pity that strutters ne'er see the frequent, somber, starry streams washing the rocks; waving to the horizon. If sense were to emerge with their tastes, maybe, in conveyance, could they try the treacle tarts; tainted with sin, Another, with some presto, will be- gin the gin vernacular, Rose-In; and by Rose-In I mean to puncture the Thorn-Beauty, and pricking the shtick. O'er the sentiments lies nothing, except for the kirschwasser mixture; a cherry with straw delight, for them. Though, most would chit-chat about a rose and its feelings; more would be inclined to lose life-drip by drip-o'er it. Shtill, my pity clings to the strutters for ne'er letting their own roses blossom and bloom; baring instead their withering charms while living in death. [comments] => 0 [counter] => 141 [topic] => 55 [informant] => skyhawk432 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => dedicatedpoems )
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