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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Green Peas at Stake #475013 added December 13, 2006 at 10:54pm Restrictions: None
Jealousy
I feel the whiff
of insecurity…for
chaotic, lucid,
stealthy
jealousy nails
its herringbone fangs
in your frail frame,
stifling reason.
You whine green,
eaten alive
in bits,
every sinew, every bone
rattling with
the mad fever.
Pride chases shame;
wrath burns
in the blood.
To temper it,
I still want my arms around you,
at this precise moment
before you end the world.
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© Copyright 2006 Joy (UN: joycag at Writing.Com). All rights reserved. Joy has granted InkSpot.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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