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.
![Joy Sweeps [#1514072]
Kiya's gift. I love it!](http://www.InkSpot.Com/main/trans.gif)
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Daily Cascade
Since my old blog "Everyday Canvas " became overfilled, here's a new one. This new blog item will continue answering prompts, the same as the old one.
Cool water cascading to low ground
To spread good will and hope all around.
![Rainbow/cascade [#1887119]
image for blog](http://www.InkSpot.Com/main/trans.gif)
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Prompt: Roses
“Roses have thorns. Those are like flower fangs. Roses are the vampires of the plant world.”
Jarod Kintz, A Memoir of Memories and Memes
What do you think of this quote and do you like or dislike roses?
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I love roses. I had a rose garden once, about forty years ago, with fifty-five different roses in it and I practiced grafting on them. I still have a two rose bushes in front of the house, no matter that the climate of Florida doesn't favor them. Then, a couple of months ago, I ordered a rose something from Amazon, which came broken with its four or five leaves in tatters. Still, instead of sending it back, I took a chance on it. I cut off the leaves and stuck the stem in a flower pot inside the porch. I really thought it had died from day one, but it didn't. It grew and it now has its first rose on it. I guess this proves that roses may be vampires. Well, just maybe,
Well, it is still puny but looks like it'll be a healthy bush.
Vampires in Bloom
in velvet grace, they bloom with flair
to find their place, in gardens fair
but beware of their thorny arms
and look beneath their petaled charms
and fangs sharp, which they hide
inside the shadows before they bite
their fancy colors with dewy gloss
a beauty to cover up your cost
they drink and drink, yet they have thirst
their scent so sweet, yet strangely cursed
with no black cloaks, but in darkness curled
roses are the vampires of my floral world
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