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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 02-June 12:10:28 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 49833
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Pluit (it is raining)
[time] => 2004-05-31 13:49:52
[hometext] => um...honors english assignment...
[bodytext] => A small flower kneeling down to prayer, The wind whispers the plea through the earth's hair. The morning dew falls from the petals there; There where flowers cry likes widows so rare. A storm shall come for the clouds speak of it, Echoing voices that scream of pluit. Tears shroud the earth amd the flowers feel bit, And torn for a crime they did not commit. Old, wooden, taunting life havers above, Protecting the precious prayer they love. Guiding the wish of the flowers, the shove, Gust and bust, as they must, to the white dove. A bird so pure would take to the request, Would never sail her mother in this quest. The rain will stop soon for the flower's rest, And the flowers will watch their wish at best. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 190 [topic] => 14 [informant] => burdened [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 4 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 0 [associated] => [topicname] => DreamsandWishes )
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