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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
#458858 added October 13, 2009 at 5:25pm
Restrictions: None
Insomnia (His)
Insomnia (Not Mine but His)

3 AM, taps…bladder duty!
I wake up to find the spot
next to me, empty,
bed covers tossed aside.
I wonder what dragged my lion
out of the dream jungle.
Was it a yen for a mouthful of gin?
I capture you in the next room, watching
TV with sound off, captions on.
It used to be, when we were both awake,
we'd dedicate the night into
stashing away kisses
to give us wings to a paradise aflame.
Nowadays, the question is:
Are you okay, or is this
your normal weirdness?




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