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 #577952 added April 6, 2008 at 7:25pm Restrictions: None
Hmmmm… (Dew Drop 6) April 6
Hmmmm…
What was it like
when I saw the first light…
the first light coming in from
the afternoon sun on faces,
smiles, tears, beds, chairs, sky,
cats, cigarettes, puddles,
my own hands and toes,
a crack on the wall,
an ant hanging on to the curtain
that boogied with the wind?
Then, when the hush of the evening
dropped in, did I think
the darkness blew away
the sights and the sounds?
Was it then when I fell in love
with words and fiction
people uttered, ignoring
what I could hear?
After all the years, after
my majestic performance
when I take a bow and
the real darkness tumbles down,
will it be the words
I’ll miss the most,
all because I was never
too fond of reason?
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© Copyright 2008 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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