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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!
Green Peas at Stake
#383077 added November 1, 2005 at 11:53am
Restrictions: None
Storm
The dawn of the last storm…
Though anchored inside the exactness of insomnia,
you feel fortunate
as you shiver
with your forehead to the windowpane.

The lights are out,
the lightning slashes the sky into uneven wedges,
and the floorboards shake
under your feet, threatened by the raucous thunder
bouncing its articulate rumble
through the arid darkness and tearing into
your eardrums with candor;
your cat meows
shaking in abrupt terror under your unmade bed.

On this godforsaken island
sitting between two anonymous coasts,
you watch an arsenal of floods sweep away
the ground down below, and since you put up
with robust flaws in relative chagrin,
like an aristocrat in silhouette,
you too are a part of this storm.


© Copyright 2005 Joy (UN: joycag at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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