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 #547519 added November 7, 2007 at 3:20pm Restrictions: None
Cargo
For miles we followed
the big old truck on Route 66
with a cargo that hinted at tears.
Once towering and beneficent
the mighty had fallen
pinned to the barrenness
of mercy without
the tangle of boughs
and empty bird’s nests.
Still mighty those
true knight-errants
who once touched the clouds
with their powerful heads
glowing brightly under the sun,
but naked now;
creatures with no limbs
those large tree trunks
thrust on a flat-bed and chained
like common criminals.
They say, “Big trees
grow back too; they
just take longer,”
but who can say
we’ll be able to unload
the cargo we carry?
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© Copyright 2007 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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