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!
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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.

March 1, 2016 at 2:58pm
March 1, 2016 at 2:58pm
#875429
Prompt: Oscar Wilde says in his The Ballad of the Reading Gaol, “Each man kills the thing he loves.” What do you think he means?

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I tend to believe that love, if true, cannot do nasty things to the beloved.

As to Wilde’s statement and the poem, I think Wilde is hinting at several things:

* A killing may not be physical. We can kill each other with words and gestures and by holding back love and attention.

* Wilde own disappointment in love. Having read what his life had been like, I can understand him.

* Murder that is not always premeditated: Wilde began writing this poem, on the exterior, about a man who had killed his wife. The man took his sentence in a detached fashion and was executed later.

* Harshness of the society that judges and punishes its individuals without understanding. Wilde spent two years in Redding Jail for being a Homosexual. He was deeply humiliated there, not only by the terrible conditions and treatment in jail but also for the society’s scorn upon who he was.

* Scheming love that changes and kills its love object through being control-crazy, as some overly indulgent or controlling parents do.

To wrap it up, I think, while Wilde’s statement sounds powerful, it is also questionable rationally, but then Wilde himself was a paradox and he loved coming up with paradoxical statements. Still, the beauty of usage and the downright feeling and passion in his work cannot be denied to him.




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