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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=424389" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Yet, Yet, Ye Downcast Hours</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">yet in this downcast hour<br>the mornlight<br>beautiful twitters of birds<br>lost in this dungeon of <br>meaninglessness of life<br>what sinful existence<br>day in day out<br>the beauty of the outside<br>that clashes with the<br>congested inside<br>that plies between loneliness, <br>sadness, anguish, near despair<br>yet the half opened window<br>on this seventh floor of the condominium<br>does not invite a jump<br>poet killers like plath and sextons are cowards<br>i dont fancy their cue<br>idiots slapping god's hands <br>so tirelessly, ceaselessly polish<br>the artistic soul, feelings<br>to get the poet ready for his task, <br>to guide the world through his messy world<br>putting things in their proper place<br>with his tongues locked in a poet's soul <br>so that readers too could come out of their mess, <br>distill a clearer mind of their own<br>through the poet's verses<br>the poet polishes the world<br>with words, polishes its soul<br>the other word for poet is psychologist<br>impatient confused plath, idiotic sexton<br>failing their ultimate poetic test<br>poet killers! ! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">inspired by</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet, Yet, Ye Downcast Hours<br>YET, yet, ye downcast hours, I know ye also; <br>Weights of lead, how ye clog and cling at my ankles! <br>Earth to a chamber of mourning turns-I hear the o'erweening, mocking<br>voice, <br>Matter is conqueror-matter, triumphant only, continues onward.<br>Despairing cries float ceaselessly toward me, <br>The call of my nearest lover, putting forth, alarm'd, uncertain, <br>The Sea I am quickly to sail, come tell me, <br>Come tell me where I am speeding-tell me my destination.<br>I understand your anguish, but I cannot help you, <br>I approach, hear, behold-the sad mouth, the look out of the eyes, <br>your mute inquiry, <br>Whither I go from the bed I recline on, come tell me: <br>Old age, alarm'd, uncertain-A young woman's voice, appealing to me<br>for comfort; <br>A young man's voice, Shall I not escape? <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=424389" data-title="Yet, Yet, Ye Downcast Hours de John Tiong Chunghoo" data-description="yet in this downcast hour
the mornlight
beautiful twitters of birds
lost in this dungeon of 
meaninglessness of life
what sinful existence
day in day out
the beauty of the outside
that clashes with the
congested inside
that plies between lonelines..."></div>
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