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.
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Mushrooms, Splinters, and Thorns #325997 added October 13, 2009 at 6:19pm Restrictions: None
Spring Will Come Again
Spring Will Come Again
With chafed skin,
I wallow through
an offending flurry,
to defend
a flawless credence,
as the cretin wind
blows.
To amend my clouding breath
and the colors lacking,
I depend on
the recurrent hints of the sun
and the creed of change
through the comfort of time:
a pretend game
ascending to hope
that the sap will reach
my roots
once more.
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