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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 10-June 21:41:15 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 22764
[catid] => 1
[aid] => Mick
[title] => Andalusian Grapes
[time] => 2003-09-05 03:35:00
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => The Andalusian grapes are ripe this time of season. Bacchus pipes his sweet tune o'er the vinyards while soft breeze doth rustle more in trees where mission tolls its clanging chime, and natives wind their way up valley's climb to slopes where hoary twisted vines now bore large clusters; sunny place where rain won't pour and lessen growing grapes from being prime. Church fathers need to reach the given goal of filling many barrels high with wine, supporting mission's reign all feel as fine, redeeming each lost pagan's darkened soul. The Andalusian grapes are ripe this day, and Bacchus pipes tune hoping many stray. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 204 [topic] => 21 [informant] => ramfire [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
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