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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.

April 3, 2015 at 1:25pm
April 3, 2015 at 1:25pm
#845706
Prompt: Imagine that you have caught a talking bug in a jar. What does the bug have to say about nature and the life of a bug? Would you let him free, if asked? Why or Why not?

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Conversation with a Bug

Bug: “Let me go in my natural environment, so I can perform my duties assigned to me by creation.”
Me: “I’m letting you go. As a matter of fact, I never touch you when you stay outside, but if you come into my house, you can be sure I’ll let the exterminator know about you.”
Bug: “Nice! Let someone else do your dirty work…What a wimp you are!”
Me: “Call me what you may, but don’t get inside my domain, ever. It doesn’t matter whether you are a real-life bug or a software bug. I can’t deal with either kind.”

Declaration of my Stance on Bugs

Bugs are annoying. Consider them either household dirt or living beings that have been assigned to a serious job in nature. Either way, they have no business inside a house, since we don’t know what their tiny legs and wings can carry, and what we don’t know scares us, right?

As for me, I bestow mercy on them most of the time, but I have also been known to scream on impulse at the sight of one. If they knew any better, they wouldn’t come near me. It isn’t fair to either one of us. Since each time I set a trap or squish a moving thing, I end up fighting with myself over this moral problem. Still, my gut-clenching remorse when I send to its maker anything flying or crawling may be more desirable (for me) than the bug’s losing its life, and all things considered, I have to take care of the welfare of number one first, which is me.

On the far side, I can’t wrap my mind around how some people eat bugs. “Fried, they are rather tasty,” I’ve been told. “They are also high in good protein.”

It is an unavoidable crime to be in this world because we have to eat other living beings, plant or animal. Even so, I won’t let any bug on my plate or in my house in any way; be it chopped, fried, sauteed, broiled, breaded and baked, or raw.


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