| 
 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.
 ![Joy Sweeps  [#1514072]
Kiya's gift. I love it!](http://www.InkSpot.Com/main/trans.gif)  
 
 | 
	 Green Peas at Stake  #580445 added April 20, 2008 at 12:08pm Restrictions: None	 
	The People before Us (Dew Drop 20) 
	The People before Us 
 
In the summer of  
the World's Fair, 1939, 
when the "compass rose  
pointing in all directions," 
the people before us 
danced the rumba, 
extending the conga line 
from the docks to 
Manhattan for the unknown  
to be discovered; the sea 
of people, in wide parades, 
reached the pavilions  
that promised world peace 
for the umpteenth time, 
like the end of a long, 
miserable drought. 
 
Useless!  
Now, the rain  
spits down our shame, 
tasting of ashes. 
The splitting ice, 
the ebbing earth 
the missing sky 
bind us to guilt 
of shortened time. 
This vile display 
from the brink of yesterday, 
can it hit upon a spiral 
to uncoil again from  
the "Futurama Ride"? 
 
 
 | 
 
 
© Copyright 2008 Joy (UN: joycag at Writing.Com). All rights reserved. Joy has granted InkSpot.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.  
 |