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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  #580706 added September 20, 2010 at 2:05pm Restrictions: None	 
	Jensen Beach, April 21 (Dew Drop 21) 
	Jensen Beach, April 21   
 
Crowded at the beach today, 
--on a Monday, no less-- 
sun building webs of light 
for pieces of dreams 
jobs in the offing, 
world's untreated scars, 
and ripples of sea like butter knives 
spreading salt on the sand 
and on the wounds of people 
who try to connect with  
the birds overlapping the sky 
as if in a drifting trance, 
studiously ignoring 
the sad face of the economy. 
 
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Revised version: 
 
Jensen Beach 
 
Crowded at the beach today... 
The sun's building webs of light 
to add to the drama of sloth, 
jobs in the offing, and 
world's untreated scars 
as ripples like butter knives 
spread salt on the sand, 
the wounds of people, and pelicans  
in a drifting trance, ignoring 
the sad face of the economy. 
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