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=392564" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Upon The Harbouring of Sickness In Death...</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">With endearment, you gently lift<br>the dutch door top of the pinewood, <br>but, only because within it sleeps<br>the one who understood you, and-<br>the chaos between your hemispheres, <br>the delphian orbs and cherubs, <br>ossified...within your abstract wiring, <br>and loved you through it all; <br>a love that bore no substitute.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">who will care for me now, you ask; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">NO-ONE! - says a voice from years gone, <br>as you stare at the vericose veins <br>an old cracked-ceilings ruse; <br>you affix a sybilline stare <br>of lament that bears no mercy<br>from your myriad of strange behavior<br>harbouring within your brain, <br>pricking the spines live nerve-endings <br>like a sterile darning needle; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">[Remembering when you were a child]</div><div style="margin:10px 0">that your mum laid down gently<br>upon the kitchen stovetop flame, <br>'fore she'd take the metal tongs, <br>pinched the needle at its head, <br>said, 'mummy could never hurt you'<br>now I need thatfrowning finger</div><div style="margin:10px 0">and pull that splinter out<br>Oh! Mummy, it burns! It burns! <br>So hot... flame stinging hot, it was <br>thwarting like a matchstick tip<br>one just freshly struck....<br>so effectingly that your tongue <br>sensed the sage-smoked sulfur<br>with Mummy's every stroke <br>'til her job completed with a hug<br>and kiss, atop a slice of key lime pie. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">who will know where the needles are, you ask; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">NO-ONE! - says the Modigliani- <br>hanging on the pale green wall, <br>the stunning woman reminds you <br>of her, except for the cold white eyes.<br>She's with the sleeping now<br>where all good mothers go, <br>and thats how love in Death must be <br>beyond the pine, with the cherubs... <br>but only when harbouring sickness.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>_________ FjR/10/12 _________</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Frank+James+Ryan+Jr.">Frank James Ryan Jr.</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=392564" data-title="Upon The Harbouring of Sickness In Death... de Frank James Ryan Jr." data-description="With endearment, you gently lift
the dutch door top of the pinewood, 
but, only because within it sleeps
the one who understood you, and-
the chaos between your hemispheres, 
the delphian orbs and cherubs, 
ossified...within your abstract wiring, ..."></div>
</div>
</div>