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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
"Failure is unimportant. It takes courage to make a fool of yourself."
CHARLIE CHAPLIN
Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet
confinement of your aloneness
to learn
anything or anyone
that does not bring you alive
is too small for you.
David Whyte
This is my supplementary blog in which I will post entries written for prompts.
November 1, 2023 at 10:06am November 1, 2023 at 10:06am
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Prompt: Write about a magical pumpkin that comes to life.
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Her dress was made of a pumpkin's green vine's leaves, and her wings glistened like dewdrops in the morning sun. She had bright, twinkling eyes that held the wisdom of ages and a mischievous smile that hinted at her magical nature. She was Pumpkinella, the magical pumpkin fairy.
Pumpkinella had first come to life eons ago, emerging from a pumpkin. And during the night, after the sun set before the Pumpkin Day when the pumpkin patch was bathed in shimmering light, a chosen pumpkin had begun to shake and quiver. Then, it had opened up and its insides slowly had changed into this tiny enchanting creature.
Just like in the beginning, this year, too, the most splendid pumpkin was an enormous, radiant orange pumpkin with swirling patterns that seemed to dance under the moonlight. Its surface was smooth, and it emitted a soft, warm glow that bathed the entire patch in a gentle, golden light. It is no wonder that only from this special pumpkin, the fairy Pumpkinella finally appeared with the wisdom of ages twinkling in her eyes.
Now, finally in her fairy form again, Pumpkinella flew into the moonlit night to explore the village, her laughter of joy tinkling like windchimes in the breeze. She sprinkled stardust on the villagers' homes, making their dreams sweet and happy. She even played little pranks, turning pumpkins into mini carriages and mice into horses, bringing wonder and whimsy to the village. And why not? Of course, she could. After all who says that only Cinderella's fairy godmother can perform such magic!
The next day, when the festival began, the villagers in the town square marveled at the enchanted pumpkins and rejoiced as Pumpkinella watched from the shadow of an elm tree, feeling the happiness of the people in her tiny magical bones.
Unfortunately, her time of fun was limited and she knew it. When the first rays of the setting sun touched the pumpkin patch, she felt the pull of her pumpkin form, and she fluttered back to her radiant pumpkin to merge her pumpkin vine dress with this pumpkin's surface.
Later, when the sun dipped below the horizon and the pumpkin patch was once again bathed in a magical light, Pumpkinella transformed back into this pumpkin, to stay hidden with her secret until the next year when she'd be born again maybe from a different pumpkin, then.
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© Copyright 2024 Joy (UN: joycag at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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