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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=424361" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Who Is Now Reading This?</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">count yourself blessed<br>if you are reading this? <br>you are the rare few <br>who actually read others' poetry<br>nobody is serious about other people's life anyway<br>poetry reading is being noosy<br>an orphan in an alleyway<br>tries to look for a <br>home sweet home<br>count yourself doubled blessed<br>if you fully understand any poem<br>for poets write for themselves<br>if a poet says he writes for others<br>he is probably a liar <br>after money probably<br>count yourself blessed for having learnt this<br>for among the millions of poets<br>there are poets in lost alleys<br>trying to find a piece of themselves<br>the lane that runs to treasures of heart and mind<br>verses springing from the sanctity of the soul<br>many slip on the make belief lane<br>throwing words, phrases helter skelter<br>a child that tries to plant fiction in non fiction<br>offering honorable readers<br>a half baked cake nobody would take<br>the heaven sounds out the genius though<br>each of his word gets you revved up<br>each of the words offers a<br>a spectacle into real sights, sounds, tastes<br>and smells <br>the honorable readers know the fakes<br>from the real - just so instinctively<br>real words never lie<br>the diamond detector never fails</div><div style="margin:10px 0">inspired by</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Who Is Now Reading This? <br>May-be one is now reading this who knows some wrong-doing of my past<br>life, <br>Or may-be a stranger is reading this who has secretly loved me, <br>Or may-be one who meets all my grand assumptions and egotisms with<br>derision, <br>Or may-be one who is puzzled at me.<br>As if I were not puzzled at myself! <br>Or as if I never deride myself! (O conscience-struck! O self-<br>convicted!) <br>Or as if I do not secretly love strangers! (O tenderly, a long time, <br>and never avow it ;) <br>Or as if I did not see, perfectly well, interior in myself, the stuff<br>of wrong-doing, <br>Or as if it could cease transpiring from me until it must cease.10 <br>Walt Whitman</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Tiong+Chunghoo">John Tiong Chunghoo</a><div class=q>
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<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=424361" data-title="Who Is Now Reading This? de John Tiong Chunghoo" data-description="count yourself blessed
if you are reading this? 
you are the rare few 
who actually read others' poetry
nobody is serious about other people's life anyway
poetry reading is being noosy
an orphan in an alleyway
tries to look for a 
home sweet home
..."></div>
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