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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
#330687 added October 13, 2009 at 4:54pm
Restrictions: None
Dolphins and others
Dolphins

When oceans whisper tales,
you dream dolphin dreams
and swim through life
with grace and compassion,
yet so free, almost restless.

My heart heals itself
and beats amazed
with the thought of you,
your track of love
expanding
from top to bottom
over the earth.

From the depths
of quiet moments,
from insides of a blessing,
spurting droplets
as pearls of wisdom,
you leap into the mist
to touch the sky.


Your Substance

Ossified into a rut,
you think in your reckless fashion,
“My dowdy shadow is my substance.”

Then you endeavor frumpishly
to promote that two-dimensional shape,
while the precious pearl
sits inside the shell.

No wonder you’re cooped up
inside a confusion.

Pizza

Apposed to its overseas kin
I could argue
-here in USA-
even the décor
inside the aphotic trattoria
augments its aroma,
even if, the pie is limp,
complex, chewy,
too arranged,
and the real thing is
fresh, simple, rigid,
with a delicate crust.

Blessed with profound affinity
and deep insight into the subject,
I can safely say
that the apparent difference
is in the tomatoes;
still, my taste favors
the familiar
with a low blow to my vanity.


© Copyright 2009 Joy (UN: joycag at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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