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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 02-June 13:36:09 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 167853
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => My little table manners.
[time] => 2011-10-15 01:39:34
[hometext] => This poem is very literal. It is a still life and only symbolic in that a prism is a plastic bottle.
[bodytext] => "Not exactly, William Blake" I spoke in a straight tongue. And asked Louis a favor. "Not exactly, Robert Frost" I was, of course, figurative. And asked Ben to move the owls. Easy tasks at dinnertime, While the pulse Of traffic crawled. I smash those keys, old friends of mine. Your 1950's blueish shine Shadowed by unholy wine, A prism? maybe not on 1950's time. "Not exactly, Mrs. Griffin" Louis said Ben moved the owls. That must be Katie's water bottle. [comments] => 0 [counter] => 260 [topic] => 54 [informant] => RitalinKid [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => happypoetry )
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