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 #328050 added October 13, 2009 at 5:56pm Restrictions: None
Searching for Power
Searching for Power
Strolling down a midnight beach,
damp shadows among the dunes,
each owned by the night,
nostalgic for lost power.
One crystal on a golden chain,
a useless venture in the dark,
stubborn pebbles etch through the soles,
salt-water, a nocturnal cure.
The rudder of thoughts steer
creeping words from the deep,
lining up, in defiance
against suggestive sleep.
Boneless waves on sand,
confidence clad in black,
silenced visions crawl between sheets,
while recurring dreams blindfold.
As light and shade rotate,
life to a full circle comes.
A soul’s greater than zodiac’s shield
if forgiving nature hangs on.
A straw in the wind, a stray spark,
when a reddish star ridicules,
a hollow lie, a dizzy rambler.
For perfection, we’re made fools.
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© Copyright 2009 Joy (UN: joycag at Writing.Com). All rights reserved. Joy has granted InkSpot.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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