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!
E-Mail
Oh, why do I dare to check my e-mail?
So popular I am, I can cry.

Aren't I lucky? The thought flutters, and I open
my inbox, the door to my castle.
Oh, no! Peasants have risen
to dethrone royalty.
For two days, the count is
four hundred sixty-seven.
First Jet-Blue requests five surveys
three-minutes after I've deplaned.

Oh, why do I dare to check my e-mail?
So confused I am, I can cry.

Next, E-Harmony, Christian Mingle
Don't they know I'm not single?
And why, in this jungle, my name's everywhere
for lawyers with lip to represent me
for accidents I didn't have?
Plus, those offers...Canadian Pharm,
Spellbound Pheromones, do I need testosterone,
Milk-a-Deal, Wazza Deal, five for one,
I've won a ton. Get the feel?

Oh, why do I dare to check my e-mail?
So ticked-off I am, I can cry.

Where's the pact to serve me
as one of royalty, a lady, a duchess or such
with written word in lightning speed,
photos to receive from friends,
greetings and news, if just a few,
and fine projects to spot and share?
Such functional fare, real cheap, benefits galore...
The best. Yet, how can I chew the rest?
Wouldn't this make my teeth fall
before, in one swoop, I delete it all?

Oh, why did I dare to check my e-mail?
So worn-out I am, I can cry.


35 lines – 231 words
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