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Post by Crunchy Weta on Apr 29, 2006 2:25:15 GMT -5
Seeking inspiration I retreat to my back porch on a moondog misty night. I draw from a cigarette, unfettered by authoritarian longevitists. My feet cool on the damp deck under the illunarmated night. A company of arachnids, crickets and moreporks play to the Southern Cross. There is a rain-soaked printer waiting for just the write moment for its penultimate journey to the shed, the recycling bin is semi empty; its contents could never reveal their story to archaeologists who deal with dirt and the dead, beer cans and wine bottles all still from the jam with Ian and Andy, a plastic laundry bottle - cheaper than its cardboard refill, all tastefully disorganised. The barbecue doubles as a plantstand and the rubbish bin remains in practical proximity to the back door. A spicy stack of firewood lends scent to my thoughts as I entice words to compost the detritus of my day.
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Post by farkas on Apr 29, 2006 7:32:29 GMT -5
Hi Southern Cross
Rubbish is what we generate For the glee of dirt diggers who reclamate Eons hence a treasure uncovered The residue of our lives discarded and cluttered
I liked it very much
Farkas
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Post by Crunchy Weta on May 2, 2006 1:36:39 GMT -5
Hi Farkas, Thanks again for your thoughts. Wish there were more motivated members like yourself. Always appreciate your relevant poetic replies. Cheers Glenn
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Post by farkas on May 2, 2006 6:07:10 GMT -5
Hi
You know I have noticed that there are only a handful of members who participate and lately even that handful has showed less interest than when I first signed up. I don't know what has caused the drought but, a drought it is. Thanks for your reply. I am always happy to share.
Farkas
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Post by Antipodi on Nov 11, 2008 9:07:19 GMT -5
GDay cobber ...I really thought this piece was bewt and I can see the poets eye wanderin to find the right imagery ...eggcellent
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