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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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Off the Cuff / My Other Journal #669970 added September 30, 2009 at 11:51pm
Restrictions: None
WdC on the Windowsill
When I had a garden that I could call a garden, I used to put green tomatoes on the kitchen windowsill. Now that we are living in a deed-restricted area, I have no garden where I can raise whatever I wish. We do have something that has some resemblance to a garden, but the names of plants we can put in it come in a handbook.
Thus my gardening has dwindled down to a few small pots of herbs on the kitchen windowsill over the sink.
Not only the lack of a garden but the lack of autumn colors are among the things I miss of my earlier decades, Anyhow, to add a dash of color, I bought a small pumpkin today.
The pumpkin alone, however, was not enough. I needed to add something I truly loved among the herbs on the windowsill. What else but WdC of course, on my mug.
Thus my cup runneth over with love. |
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