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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 #843301 added March 5, 2015 at 12:09pm
Restrictions: None
Opening a Door to "Stayin' Alive!"
Two prompts! Let me see if I can unite them…
Princess Megan Rose  ’s Prompt: You are having a nightmare. You chose a door and open it. What adventure do you have?
Charlie ~  ’s Prompt: What is your go-to party song? What song would you play to hype people up? Include a link, embed a youtube video, or just give the song title and who it's by.
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My pillow was smooched under my head, and the bed sheets were choking me. First, I thought I was dreaming, but was I?
Something had knocked me down unconscious, and when I opened my eyes, I found myself all tied up and unable to move. Rather than feeling victimized, I felt extreme rage.
"Calm down!" someone ordered. “You’ll be free if you choose a door.”
“Any door is better than this,” I said.
“You are a risk-taker, aren't you!”
In a blink, I was free of my bindings and was running toward a wall with several doors on it.
I rushed to open a gold-plated door, but something inside me warned against it. So I skipped sideways and chose a regular door painted in white, like one of the doors in my actual house. When I opened the door, I entered into a dark place.
Something hissed. Something rustled. I felt fingers grabbing at my skirt.
Hesitant, I moved back and stepped almost out of the door, but all of a sudden, bright lights blinded me as several people jumped up, yelling, “Surprise!”
When my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw all my friends and family and sensed that a party was on for me; although, no one told me the reason for it.
Then the music started playing. I heard the vocals of Saturday Night Fever. 'Stayin’ alive; Stayin’ alive!'
“Very nice!” I said, beaming. “But let’s give this party more feeling. How about 'What a Feeling'?"
And the party rolled on...
All this might have been just a dream, but something needs to be said about dreams. After all, I’m still staying alive, and what a feeling!
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