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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. Kiya's gift. I love it!
Everyday Canvas
Kathleen-613's creation for my blog

"Failure is unimportant. It takes courage to make a fool of yourself."
CHARLIE CHAPLIN


Blog City image small

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


Marci's gift sig










This is my supplementary blog in which I will post entries written for prompts.

August 12, 2020 at 12:23pm
August 12, 2020 at 12:23pm
#990607
For "Blog City ~ Every Blogger's ParadiseOpen in new Window.

Prompt: What does a perfect day look like to you?

--

Is there such a thing? I don’t believe in perfect anything. As to my better, more satisfactory days, I left them behind.

But talking about days, I like them to be without storms of any kind. Atmospheric or internal.


*FlowerV* *FlowerV* *FlowerV* *FlowerV* *FlowerV* *FlowerV* *FlowerV* *FlowerV* *FlowerV*


For: "Space BlogOpen in new Window.

Prompt: From ßlυҽყҽʐ 🤍 Author IconMail Icon’s "Recipe For the Morning AfterOpen in new Window.

What do you do if you wake up sick?

---

I’d hate that! I don’t like being sick and incapacitated.

Still, I think I’d call the doctor or the nurse, but first, I’d try to figure out from which part of me the sickness is arising. Chances are, depending on the severity of it, I could do something about it until help could arrive.

ßlυҽყҽʐ 🤍 Author Icon’s poem, however, talks about hangovers. I don’t drink at all when alone, but sometimes, I take a sip or two with company, only to be companionable. I don’t even like what that little sip of alcohol does to my senses or to my stomach, either. So, I can understand how bad a hangover can be. I’ve seen people suffer from it.

Why bring something so atrocious onto oneself, unless the person is a masochist?



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