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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  #577392 added April 4, 2008 at 9:31pm Restrictions: None	 
	Morning Stroll (April-Poetry month-Dew Drop 3) 
	 Morning Stroll 
 
My lungs wave the red 
flag. I stop and wheeze 
near an Areca palm and  
inside gray matter’s cavern,  
as I replenish the recall  
of walking distance and glance 
at passers-by with faces like  
vigil candles burning  
long and slow;  
then the sudden rain  
etches on the momentary wind 
your name. 
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