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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.
 
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Green Peas at Stake
Some of the haiku I have mixed with senryu, not only because I am not a purist, but also because I like to do what I like to do given what I feel at the moment.
August 26, 2013 at 2:33pm August 26, 2013 at 2:33pm
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In cool wind,
painted arms twirl with joy
since the sun --like a conjurer's coin--
reappears, waltzing over fine dust and dry hay,
and as fall comes in bright-colored cloaks,
pinwheel's hypnotic hum
hails the change.
 
Triquain
The syllable pattern is: 3, 6, 9, 12, 9, 6, 3. |
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a lone, wayward boat
cuts a line across the sea
soured with dense, dark clouds
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wind frolics through trees
while weather-vane reels with fear
without knowing why
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March 22, 2013 at 11:47am March 22, 2013 at 11:47am
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Through wind-stripped branches
timid sun slides in and out
pitching scents of spring
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peeling off from clouds
like a hidden spring gushing
drops charge window panes
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beside spring's saplings
hidden away by fairies
a snail sleeps in shell |
February 24, 2013 at 2:13pm February 24, 2013 at 2:13pm
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in autumnal tones
pinching a light from the sun
asters like candles
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February 23, 2013 at 1:21pm February 23, 2013 at 1:21pm
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rich smells of balsam
streams like dreams through jade pastures
still, slender footpath
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February 22, 2013 at 11:22am February 22, 2013 at 11:22am
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no more carefree days
on Jay’s Bridge over the creek
birds hoping for warmth
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February 21, 2013 at 5:42pm February 21, 2013 at 5:42pm
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after the thunders
half moon writhes under cover
wind shoos clouds away
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February 20, 2013 at 11:39am February 20, 2013 at 11:39am
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branches tinged with red
budworms are back with vengeance
black spruce, the victim
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February 19, 2013 at 1:10pm February 19, 2013 at 1:10pm
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Winterwind’s tense swirls...
Sailing slow like an iceberg,
deck flecked with shadows.
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February 18, 2013 at 11:35am February 18, 2013 at 11:35am
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cold wind and lightning
vibrating like tuning forks
above frozen beach
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February 17, 2013 at 10:34am February 17, 2013 at 10:34am
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goldenrod blossoms
living life on high alert
along mountain trails
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February 16, 2013 at 10:15am February 16, 2013 at 10:15am
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A Memory
bait-box smells of sea
my uncle's oars splash and dash
mackerels in pail
underneath the wharf
dumped from a lobsterman's traps
a heap of dead crabs |
February 15, 2013 at 10:20am February 15, 2013 at 10:20am
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mossy granite hides
in a cool line of alders
small waterfall’s song
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February 14, 2013 at 12:21am February 14, 2013 at 12:21am
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“And still, after all this time, the Sun has never said to the Earth,
"You owe me."
Look what happens with love like that.
It lights up the sky.”
Rumi
Your name’s my mantra
for love has velocity
in endless moments
Happy Valentine's Day!
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February 13, 2013 at 10:57am February 13, 2013 at 10:57am
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Cloud-shadowed ocean.
Along the thin line of beach,
widening ripples.
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February 12, 2013 at 1:06pm February 12, 2013 at 1:06pm
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Two connecting haikus 5-7-5 syllable count
Birthday (2/12/1972)
Chick out of the egg,
a new being once inched in.
My sweet handsome son
now flexes his fingers
and strides to his guitar
like a prize fighter.
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February 11, 2013 at 12:45am February 11, 2013 at 12:45am
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Tumbled on its side,
bike’s wheel spins. Spokes, catching grass,
form an instant wreath.
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© Copyright 2013 Joy (UN: joycag at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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