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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Kiya's gift. I love it!](http://www.InkSpot.Com/main/trans.gif)
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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.
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Prompt: It's a creation Saturday and I have some interesting words from my favorite link on the internet, the random word generator.
Appointment, hemlock, whisper, blade, drunken, fight, and desire
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“Another appointment with the eye doctor, tomorrow! Should I bring a blade or prep the hemlock?” I whispered to my husband, although there was no one else in the room.
He laughed. “I don’t know why you make so much of that guy’s waiting room. What if we wait a little?”
“A little? You call three to four hours of waiting in an office a little?”
“The poor guy looks drained even in the morning. It must be such a hard job doing what he does.”
“Looks drained? No! He looks drunken because he drinks on the job. I saw him gulp down glass after glass of what looked like vodka or gin, right there on the counter near the examination rooms. He always has his drinks set up there.”
“It must be water. Don’t jump to conclusions. His is a lofty and caring work. Be patient!”
Well, patience is not one of my virtues, especially if a guy ruins my day first by making me wait, then by squirting eye drops into my eyes that blind me until the next day. Not only that, for some reason, he wants to see me every three months.
One of my friends, Sheila, took care of this doc’s every-three-months desire. She told him she lost her insurance and can only afford to see him once in two years. Guess what? His office wouldn’t give her another appointment. So much for “lofty and caring!”
I admire people like Sheila who fight against oppression, although she didn’t really pick a fight here but used evasion. I am not that clever, but I have my ways, too. After all, aren’t Greeks the founders of modern medicine, and didn’t the Athenian law prescribe death by drinking a cup of poison hemlock? Remember Socrates?
Thus, I am taking my small bottle of you-know-what with me. It should be a cinch to pour it into his cup. No more long waits and Long Live Hemlock!
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Note: This is NOT a true story, although I am still miffed at the long waiting time in this doctor's office. The fact is, my eye doctor is alive and well...for now.
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