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!
Autumn
floating from the sky
scarlet leaves of bitterness
soon the harvest moon

shrill wild geese in flight
the brook sluggish like the sap
gold turns sepia

horse chestnuts rolling
over vermilion piles
on the rusty lawn

with final farewells
a lonely heart breaking in
the bare arms of oaks




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