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
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"Failure is unimportant. It takes courage to make a fool of yourself."
CHARLIE CHAPLIN
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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
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This is my supplementary blog in which I will post entries written for prompts.
January 28, 2015 at 1:45pm January 28, 2015 at 1:45pm
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Prompt: The sky glows with a strange lavender light. This is no ordinary winter sunset. What happens next?
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Lavender sky in many parts of the northern US happens in winter when the sky has too many dust particles in it, as if a volcano has erupted and left its memories behind.
Where I live, in the south, we get all kinds of splendid sunsets but they don’t linger like they do up north. Half the time, I miss them, because by the time I grab my camera and run out, they’re gone. Where I am, during any season, after the sky turns lavender, the night sets in. Then, I hear the night birds and night crawlers, and it isn’t a good time to be loitering on the lawn or in the nature preserve if I am wearing sandals, and I always wear sandals. It is a given that something or other will take a bite of my toes or crawl upward my leg.
Thus, in their own inimitable fashion, our gorgeous sunsets tell us to go inside and stay there through the night. You never know what lurks in the dark on its hunches waiting to haunt you forever.
Lavender sky,
sinking sun,
languid moon.
Magical whispers
through palm fronds
and depths of your eyes.
Believing
I am where I belong,
my hand blends with yours.
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