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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 30, 2018 at 2:56pm November 30, 2018 at 2:56pm
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Prompt: Who is a person you met this year that surprised or delighted you and why?
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Do I have a story for this prompt or what!
My husband and I met somebody, a young man, in the Starbucks inside the Barnes & Noble Bookstore, in Stuart, FL. He was sitting at a small table and typing on a small laptop as if there was no tomorrow. He had a few books piled haphazardly at a side at the laptop.
We took the other table next to his. Then, I stood up to get us some coffee.
Just at that time, his elbow knocked down one of the books at my feet. I picked it up and handed it to him, and I saw that he was writing something that looked like a story. I said something like, “That looks like a story,” and we began talking. I learned that at the end of the week, as a new recruit, he was being deployed to Afghanistan, and he wanted to finish the story he was writing. He couldn’t write at home because family and friends who heard him leaving were either calling or stopping by. "Thanks to Mother," he said.
Of course, I told him about writing.com, but he was a member in another writing site and he thought he might not be able to handle two sites at the same time even if he’d found the time overseas.
Anyway, I came back with three cups and a piece of cake. The third cup and the cake were for him.
Two things with this encounter:
1. I hate to say, “Thank you for your service,” but I admire people who are so willing to serve us all with their sacrifices.
2. Even in his rush with everything, this young man wanted to write his story. What can be more amazing than that?
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