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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!
Mushrooms, Splinters, and Thorns
#326312 added April 9, 2011 at 10:02am
Restrictions: None
Inept -Theater of the Absurd
Inept

My billet could be my undoing;
me, a hunchback with Bacchic joviality,
trespassing on holy men’s grounds,
and my phrases in mass migration
escape through slits in hordes.

Still, I walk
on stilts of baffling words
to reach out to scrub the sun
as if from the tower of Babel,
for I crave to bate the mad muse
who hides in the bedlam
and lies on lines of unruly sheets,
refusing non-chalant to give me hint..


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