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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
#431049 added June 5, 2006 at 8:05am
Restrictions: None
Easter Egg
Easter Egg

Shoved aside by the taller ones,
the tiny girl with the bruised shins
crouches under the stairwell
to hide herself like a secret message;
her eyes wish to simply see
the beauty of one second
resurrected inside
her cold Easter egg,
the only one she could find in the hunt.

The egg's colors throb into patterns,
a twirling medley of purples and blues,
that whisper promises;
stunned, her fingers tighten
and crack the soft shell,
making her wonder if
she could be anything
but human.

Salted with tears, she resolves
she won’t go about blaming herself
for the other eggs she missed
and the shell she shattered
while the world rose and fell,
moments jumping on
a green trampoline,
back and forth,
back and forth,
crushing years into one egg.



© Copyright 2006 Joy (UN: joycag at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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