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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
#580706 added September 20, 2010 at 2:05pm
Restrictions: None
Jensen Beach, April 21 (Dew Drop 21)
Jensen Beach, April 21

Crowded at the beach today,
--on a Monday, no less--
sun building webs of light
for pieces of dreams
jobs in the offing,
world's untreated scars,
and ripples of sea like butter knives
spreading salt on the sand
and on the wounds of people
who try to connect with
the birds overlapping the sky
as if in a drifting trance,
studiously ignoring
the sad face of the economy.

================

Revised version:

Jensen Beach

Crowded at the beach today...
The sun's building webs of light
to add to the drama of sloth,
jobs in the offing, and
world's untreated scars
as ripples like butter knives
spread salt on the sand,
the wounds of people, and pelicans
in a drifting trance, ignoring
the sad face of the economy.

© Copyright 2010 Joy (UN: joycag at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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