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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 09-June 19:33:29 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 4328
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => THE WORK BENCH OF MY MIND
[time] => 2002-09-27 07:15:00
[hometext] => The symbol of the craftsman is his or her bench.
This is the title poem of my current "collection" of poetry. As a work in progress please comment, it needs it. [bodytext] => In the centre of my shop it sits, The Table that I built myself Simple, massive, sturdy , Designed for work, built to last In my shop, on my bench, I work the wood deftly cutting through the rings of memory To find the treasure within. In the centre of my mind sits Another workbench built with Time and tears, pain and patience Massive, mysterious, menacing. On this table, if I dare, I Work my pain; deftly cutting Through the layers of memory To find the treasure within. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 142 [topic] => 31 [informant] => aernby [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => StoryPoetry )
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