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!
THIRST
In an act of faith,
ouside
the inequality of this planet,
I search the ground,
trash bins,
landfills....
for every rumpled paper with ink stains
to find another gem,
another "Paradise Lost" to be Gained.
I'm the "Idiot,"
"As You Like it,"
with "Grapes of Wrath."

Delighted to live
the life
of a pack-rat.

In the roundup of volumes,
words have branded themselves
into my soul with flames,
hopes, and illusions.
Now, real disasters
bow at my beckoning
with solutions unheard of.

Their abundance
does not always quench
the thirst I feel.

Still,
words are oxygen,
words are blood,
words are fire.
Words do justice to life,
justice that is not charity.


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