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About This Author
My name is Joy, and I love to write. Why poetry, here? Because poetry uplifts its writer, and if she is lucky enough, her readers, too. Around us, so many objects abound to write about. Once a poet starts with a smallest, most trivial object, he shall discover that his pen will spill out what is most delicate or most majestic hidden inside him. Since the classics sometimes dealt with lofty subjects with a lofty language, a person with poetry in his soul may incline to emulate that. That is understandable. Poetry does that to a person: it enlarges the soul and gives it wings. Yet, to really soar, a poet needs to take off from the ground. Kiya's gift. I love it!
Green Peas at Stake
#580445 added April 20, 2008 at 12:08pm
Restrictions: None
The People before Us (Dew Drop 20)
The People before Us

In the summer of
the World's Fair, 1939,
when the "compass rose
pointing in all directions,"
the people before us
danced the rumba,
extending the conga line
from the docks to
Manhattan for the unknown
to be discovered; the sea
of people, in wide parades,
reached the pavilions
that promised world peace
for the umpteenth time,
like the end of a long,
miserable drought.

Useless!
Now, the rain
spits down our shame,
tasting of ashes.
The splitting ice,
the ebbing earth
the missing sky
bind us to guilt
of shortened time.
This vile display
from the brink of yesterday,
can it hit upon a spiral
to uncoil again from
the "Futurama Ride"?



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