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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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Poets' Practice Pad << Previous • Message List • Next >>
Her finger tips sent shivers.
Her lips remained an artic hue.
He had tried so hard to reach her
but...
Her stare had once been deep
enough to bring him to his knees.
Then those pools of acorn black
let way to streams of bitter tears.
Now she looked right through him
as if he wasn't even there.
Goosebumps swept over him
as she crept into the room.
Once she sang with the voice of angels,
now her mouth remained sealed.
He had tried all he could to save her
but
It had been countless fozen nights
that led to this cold Dawn.
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not this individual post.
Any feedback sent through it will go to the forum's
owner, Joy.
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