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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Kathleen-613's creation for my blog](http://www.InkSpot.Com/main/trans.gif)
"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.
April 23, 2017 at 12:27pm April 23, 2017 at 12:27pm
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What is your take on remarrying after your partner passes? Yes or no, and why?
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Absolutely, definitely…NOT!
Here I have to quote William Carlos Williams.
“I tried to put a bird in a cage.
O fool that I am!”
Then, in addition, I have to quote my younger son, when he came home after the first day of Kindergarten. “I am done with school. I learned enough.”
Whatever these quotes may imply, in real life, my hubby is a gem, who I think would be served better if he had chosen a different life partner; although out of politeness and his sense of righteousness, he’ll probably deny this.
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Prompt: Toiling and bubbling... something in a cauldron that you are preparing for someone else, what is it? Poison or a love potion? Perhaps a Frankenstein of your very own design. It doesn't need to be liquid or even physical but produce something by way of this mysterious art in your blog entry today.
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Toiling and bubbling and somewhat troubling, I am preparing a sonnet tonight for "Dew Drop Inn" . It is neither a poison nor love potion, just a poem inspired by our kids visiting us during the weekend; yet, my silly sonnet is not about them either, but their dog. Leave it to me, to take some serious form and turn it into something inconsequential.
Anyhow, although I sometimes write it for discipline, I don’t like form poetry because it has a way of distorting the poet’s meaning in favor of its rules. To me, a poem is a poem because of its meaning and any poetic tools used should be carefully hidden and not glaring at my face as a form. I may or may not be alone in this feeling, even if some of the poets in here may (and do) take me as a bombardier of some sort. 
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