Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=345450" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Big Boots of Pain</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">There can be certain potions <br>needled in the clock <br>for the body’s fall from grace, <br>to untorture and to plead for. <br>These I have known <br>and would sell all my furniture <br>and books and assorted goods <br>to avoid, and more, more. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But the other pain<br>I would sell my life to avoid <br>the pain that begins in the crib <br>with its bars or perhaps <br>with your first breath <br>when the planets drill <br>your future into you <br>for better of worse <br>as you marry life <br>and the love that gets doled out <br>or doesn’t. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I find now, swallowing one teaspoon <br>of pain, that it drops downward <br>to the past where it mixes <br>with last year’s cupful <br>and downward into a decade’s quart <br>and downward into a lifetime’s ocean. <br>I alternate treading water <br>and deadman’s float. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The teaspoon ought to be hearable <br>if it didn’t mix into the reruns <br>and thus enlarge into what it is not, <br>a sea pest’s sting turning promptly <br>into the shark’s neat biting off <br>of a leg because the soul <br>wears a magnifying glass. <br>Kicking the heart <br>with pain’s big boots running up and down <br>the intestines like a motorcycle racer. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet one does get out of bed <br>and start over, plunge into the day <br>and put on a hopeful look <br>and does not allow fear to build a wall <br>between you and an old friend <br>or a new friend and reach out your hand, <br>shutting down the thought that <br>an axe may cut it off unexpectedly. <br>One learns not to blab about all this <br>except to yourself or the typewriter keys <br>who tell no one until they get brave <br>and crawl off onto the printed page. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I’m getting bored with it, <br>I tell the typewriter, <br>this constantly walking around <br>in wet shoes and then, surprise! <br>Somehow DECEASED keeps getting <br>stamped in red over the word HOPE. <br>And I who keep falling thankfully <br>into each new pillow of belief, <br>finding my Mercy Street, <br>kissing it and tenderly gift-wrapping my love, <br>am beginning to wonder just what <br>the planets had in mind on November 9th, 1928. <br>The pillows are ripped away, <br>the hand guillotined, <br>dog shit thrown into the middle of a laugh, <br>a hornets’ nest building into the hi-fi speaker <br>and leaving me in silence, <br>where, without music, <br>I become a cracked orphan. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Well, <br>one gets out of bed <br>and the planets don’t always hiss <br>or muck up the day, each day. <br>As for the pain and its multiplying teaspoon, <br>perhaps it is a medicine <br>that will cure the soul <br>of its greed for love <br>next Thursday.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Anne+Sexton">Anne Sexton</a><div class=q>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=345450" data-title="The Big Boots of Pain de Anne Sexton" data-description="There can be certain potions 
needled in the clock 
for the body’s fall from grace, 
to untorture and to plead for. 
These I have known 
and would sell all my furniture 
and books and assorted goods 
to avoid, and more, more. 

But the other pai..."></div>
</div>
</div>