<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=471286" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Gutters</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">It is one of those gray days<br>That you kneel for the downpour<br>To remind you of the cold pangs, <br>To probe for dark rooms where<br>Numbness hath not yet vacate<br>And amidst the hail of tears<br>You'd find yourself breathing, <br>Sobbing. Shuddering. Suffering.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The thunders were deaf<br>And muted by its paroxysm, <br>The lightning was blinded<br>By its own garish light, <br>The contemptuous lances fell<br>Concatenating the clouds<br>(That I tried to open<br>And immediately closed) <br>Into the thirsty earth<br>For a short-lived eternity<br>The most disparate angles<br>Formed a perfect circle</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You let the gust beat you and<br>The tempest to whirl around you<br>Gripping you in its flimsy hands<br>And you watched the storm pass<br>Leaving the ruins in your heart</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The sun shone bleakly and<br>Its superfluous innuendos gyrated<br>You found yourself besmirched<br>In the forlorn mud, wading futilely<br>Like an agog virtuoso haplessly<br>Reeling souvenirs from places<br>That are still to be traversed<br>Without an audience adept <br>For listening and musing</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Drained, tired, lost from vindication<br>You fall and slither aimlessly<br>Into the coldest gutters.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Norman+Santos">Norman Santos</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=471286" data-title="Gutters de Norman Santos" data-description="It is one of those gray days That you kneel for the downpour To remind you of the cold pangs, To probe for dark rooms where Numbness hath not yet vacate And amidst the hail of tears You'd find yourself breathing, Sobbing. Shuddering. Suffering. ..."></div> </div> </div>

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