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 #330258 added October 13, 2009 at 5:24pm Restrictions: None
Dust Devil and Dust
Dust Devil
The dust has to blow
in frenzy,
one way or another,
going in circles,
swirling,
like everything
nervous
about fading away.
Dust
Don’t choke poetry with dust,
for dust shuffles
through the air,
falling and rising softly
like a con artist
working his way
into your goods.
Form your eyes in slits
and look into a sunlight,
not to see the dust,
but to see your dreams.
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