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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!
Mushrooms, Splinters, and Thorns
#671619 added October 13, 2009 at 6:47pm
Restrictions: None
On the Starbucks Line
On the Starbucks Line

"Double shot espresso and
two chocolate grahams, please!"
Complete with adrenaline,
I listen to the orders
as I wait for the seven
in front of me, and not care
about waiting, a fool
so pitiful, but
Banana Frapuccino and
my net-book are chums;
plus, the young man in front
of me-who said, "The name's
Felix"- is trying to pick up
the girl with crimson curls
in front of him. Then the woman
with long sleeves sitting at
the table to the left
signals to the grey-haired
man in summer shorts and flip flops
behind me, mouthing "Mocha Latte!"
Stacked in line, I mark
my spot and claim territory;
so afterwards, I may
compete for an empty circular table,
flinging my knapsack on top of it.
My Table Technique tangoes with
the pace of the stampede, since
a stranglehold on a table can be
as tricky as the brew, and so I
shall act when my order is filled.
For now, toward the end of my life,
with a steaming cup in my hand,
I can promise nothing to no one.

© Copyright 2009 Joy (UN: joycag at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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