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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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Everyday Canvas #1043690 added January 26, 2023 at 11:30am
Restrictions: None
January 25 and 26
Prompt: What does the word adventure mean to you? Write about this in your Blog entry today
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Adventure's definition in the dictionary is "an unusual and exciting, typically hazardous, experience or activity." In my opinion, this fits somewhat exactly what life is. Except life is much more than that, at least from where we mortals stand. Life can be good or bad, but it is sometimes, annoying, exciting, totally debilitating, dangerous, unusual, and more than anything, fleeting. Life is also a teacher of sorts, whether we learn from it or not. If we do, for what use this knowledge is depends on the imagination or the belief systems we adhere to.
In its more condensed forms, adventure may mean a trek, an experience, a voyage, a relationship, etc. But these are like the crumbs with which we feed the birds. Not the whole loaf. The whole loaf, in my opinion, is life itself.
Prompt: Take a line from one of your favorite poems and write a blog entry about it.
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Geez, this is tough because I don't have a favorite poem but many favorite poems. I think I'll go with Jenny Joseph's Warning
"When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter."
Funny, but this poem now reminds me of one of my cousins who had a very conventional life, but in her old age, she is doing everything she wanted to do but didn't while she could have. Her now life so reflects this poem in its entirety!
Now, at 78, my cousin sings in a local chorus, acts on stage for amateurs, writes poetry, and paints beautiful paintings and had a few successful gallery shows. She is now compensating for what she wished to do but couldn't or didn't when she could have.
Then, fittingly, there's another line to this poem, which says, “And make up for the sobriety of my youth.” I like the contrasts expressed here--especially against society's expectations--and the tenderness and the rashness all bound together.
Then, as a coincidence, right now, I am also wearing a purple shirt and purple pants. And the cousin I wrote about is only a year younger than me. 
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