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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 10-June 22:27:14 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 186740
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Phantoms
[time] => 2020-01-05 08:19:15
[hometext] => ‘Ideas are elusive, slippery things.’ Earl Nightingale
[bodytext] => / //// / I can feel something lurking at the edges of my mind, but it slips into the darkness, and once again I’m blind. there lies a thought, a purpose, a clarity of hue, that lingers on the margins, but leaves before it’s due. sometimes it’s the direct gaze that steams away the maddening haze; that brings to focus more than guess the visions in the psyche’s mess. but more than not the spotlight disappears them back to night —those ufos of the mind, gone before the camera’s primed. I can feel something stirring, where head and heart converge: so I’ll lay the baits of coaxing, and hope it will emerge. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 145 [topic] => 61 [informant] => spike [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => selfstruggles )
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