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.
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Prompt: What was March like for you? Write about this in your Blog entry today.
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To tell the truth, I seriously dislike March.
On the plus side, my birthday, the birthdays of most of my dear friends, and that of my father (RIP) all are in March. This is the good part, which keeps me nicely busy.
The not so nice part is that most people I really cared about, like my grandmother and my husband and a few others, did pass away in March.
Also, the ickiest time of the year is also March because of the tax time. Every March, I go nuts with the year-end tax papers, not to mention certain companies that send me tax papers and after I take them to the accountant, they send me "corrected" forms of those papers. This has been happening during the last three years or so. Should I blame Ai or the companies, I can't tell.
Then, the March weather, in where I live, just like my life, is up and down. We have nice days, but in the middle of them, some kind of a storm hits. Take today, for example. I had the AC on because the temp was in the eighties. A few minutes ago, we had a sudden storm which hit me and soaked me while walking back from the mailbox to the house, which is only about sixty-five feet away. Yet, a few minutes later, the sun came up again. This will probably go this way, like a yo-yo, the rest of the day, as I'm just hearing the wind pick up again.
No wonder some stores have sales called March Madness. Yes, I agree. March is madness.
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