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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 #903364 added January 28, 2017 at 1:03pm
Restrictions: None
Opening Lines and Lessons
Prompt: Discovered this on Writers Digest and thought we could have fun with this, while I’m working on my worse memoir opening lines, what would be yours? This has so much potential, have fun.
“You’ve been tasked with ghostwriting a memoir for an extremely unusual person. You come up with many opening lines to the book, but one of them you write as a joke just to amuse yourself at how absurd the person’s story is. But now that person wants you to use that line. Share it…”
Warning: This is a joke…It is only a joke! 
Since a human-swine hybrid was created in a lab, I ended up becoming the human-swine hybrid. Chances are, as a non-human organism, human cells were introduced into my poor body as the host. In fact, in view of the critical shortage of donor organs, they did this to pick a harvest from my body. Would I let them? Definitely not, and not that my body rejected the intrusion of those cells either. If anything, my body loved those human cells so much that it adapted its own cells to them, and as the result, I took the human form. Still, the hidden superior characteristics of a swine rule in my disposition and dealings with other humans.
Stupids that real humans are, they can’t understand my excessive greed, my voracious eating habits, my huge head, and why I act like a feral hog when crossed. They can’t understand how I reached puberty at such an early age, fooled around with a huge number of mates, and produced a large number of litters, but I bet you the world that they’d give anything to become like me.
I first caught on to their wish of becoming like me when they chose me as…well, you fill in the blanks…
Prompt: Write about something that sinks deep into your heart before exploding. What event was like a force of nature in the core of your being? Detail the cascading effect it had on your outlook, your day, your year or in an instant.
Whatever sinks into my heart, I usually reason it out and not let it explode. I learned how to do this through determination and a bit by trial and error, plus with the passage of years.
I learned it because the worst had already happened when I was a child and my parents separated. It was then that I found out neither really wanted me for me, but the one that ended with me was there for her short ends. It took me decades to get over that disappointment, but I am fine now, fine enough not to let anything or anyone get to me like that.
Nothing is more valuable than the lessons learned in one's growing years.
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