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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
#581219 added April 23, 2008 at 8:31pm
Restrictions: None
In the office (Dew Drop 23)
In the Office

For no sentimental reason,
clichés hang on tongues' clothesline,
and deals begin with
a phone call for "moneys to be made."
The boss, a walking talking gunner
with a blind bat's shot in the dark. Still,
his romance with greed and
rhythm--cool as lemonade on a hot day,
he calls it-- is feeding on a small scale,
while the steno, cracking her knuckles,
wonders who started the jam sessions
for the management or if the experience
of the tar-dipped character was ever tested.
A message obscure: "Don't allude
to what‘s there; play your hand right."
Familiar faces stacked behind
computer screens wish to unravel
duplicity's skein, but they can only shift,
drift, and dream of five o'clock, hoping
the ogre does not short their wiring as
the steno grieves the waste of
her thirty-sixth summer.

© Copyright 2008 Joy (UN: joycag at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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