A light that beams from within a time that comes to me when all is calm and right. What we seek, think we rarely find yet find it more than we know. The trick is recognising it, basking in it and not questioning it.
Medea says that life is a potion, so you must make it for yourself!
Athena says that life is a boundary line, so you must establish it!
Medea says that life is a husband, so you must dominate it!
Athena says that life is birth, so you must spring battle ready from it!
Yes, Medea is still alive and well, even today.
Joyce Klimer, she’s not!
am joyful with meggie loving her arms and her laughter and her skin and her hands and her shoulders and the way she holds me with her knowing and her shelter. thanks dear sister, soulmate, what would i do without you, girl, in my life, we be moving mountains shouting rivers together. oh yes, dear one, dear one, hold on, we going places together.
Yusei supposed he should be joyful or something since Ushio wasn’t taking him to jail. He really didn’t want to have to explain things to his friends, not to mention they couldn’t afford the bail. He was doing the commissions for a reason, after all.
Ushio stopped in front of a normal apartment building, inside a normal parking space that had seen better days. It was lightyears better than the abandoned subway where Yusei and his friends lived.
Teddy gave out a joyful cry hen he saw the contents of his birthday present; a huge, remote -controlled truck. His father also nurtured a surreptitious smile; his son was reaching the age where he could buy him presents that they could both play with!
This is the feeling that I get when I dance. I am filled with a sensation that is indescribable with words. It can only be explained through the movement. I dance for joy, and I am most certainly joyful when I dance.
You reach out your hand
and grasp on
to the floating dandelion seeds
I just blew into the air.
Eyes close, nose pulls clean air
to the mind,
a smile slides in the breeze.
the bells rung
they swung to and fro,
leaping from note to note
with a robustness
strange for such heavy metal.
the sounds bounded through the town
and announced the occasion of
a great fall.
Cheer, she sat in the chair. Her back arched gently to let the chair caress the covered flesh. She grinned, her hand held and intertwined with another’s. The small fingers in touch with her’s left little beats of warmth on the edges of her hand.
Joyfully she set the present back on the table and looked upon her friends.
With a sad smile she took out a black controller device.
She said, “” I love you guys, I will always love you guys. She presses a button on the controller… and the the neighbor hood exploded
They expected us to be joyful. They expected us to bounce up and down in our brightly cushioned seats with a childish glee, our knees knocking together in an unbridled, unprofessional ecstasy. We weren’t joyful. We didn’t bounce. Not even a smile flashed across a single pair of lips in the room.
The board of trustees waited in silence for a signal of affirmation, be it applause or a whistle, or snapping fingers. No such affirmation occurred. The quiet continued for a good twenty minutes after the announcement, with no one daring to break it.
The colored hats, vibrant and goofy, candies of all flavors, green leaves and warm breezes. Blue skies and smiling faces singing happy birthday off key. Could your birthday get any better than this?
It’s just out of reach. It’s the maximum of a function you just can’t find, so you stare at your calculator, fingers scrabbling at something, anything, trying and failing. And when you finally do, when you finally pull your weary body onto the narrow ledge, you forget that you are so high up that any small thing could topple you, that this is a complete dismissal of your past and when you stare into the abyss, there is nothing but light because anything you see is through relieved lenses.
feeling happy is like nothing else
and don’t let anyone tell you differently
they might make it seem that it’s wrong to be happy
because so-and-so is sad
but if you feel the light swelling within you
there is no reason to prevent it from shining out
if your eyes want to gleam
if your heart wants to glow
if you want to sing out to the world, you can.
Rolling on the carpet. Babies light your heart on fire. Running across a moor on an overcast afternoon while the heather is dancing. The green could sing you to heaven. Once, oh sweet once, joyful, detached.
Everyday for me is a joyful one indeed. God is the giver of life and my commitment to his word; to believe on him, for he alone can save us from our sins. This revelation is why I am always joyful.
There’s something so lovely about her face in the lights under the halloween jack-o-lantern. When everything falls apart a second later—as you knew it would, things like this don’t last—you don’t really react to anything, there’s just a print of her face in your mind, you remembering, and even when everything unfolds and everything ends, you
It is possible the feeling of unfettered joy is the exact opposite of feeling cynical and snarky, but then again — people do get lost in their delusions to the point where they’re absolutely joyful for reasons that are entirely dubious.
The issue was that she was so fucking joyful about it. She didn’t want help or for anyone to swoop in and fix the situation, she just wanted to smile and brush it off like it was all okay. It wasn’t though, it was horrible and that bothered me. Because it wasn’t technically MY problem, though, I could do nothing to fix it without her wanting me to. So I let her sit there, content and secure in her mess of a life, while I sat in silence.
I see that you think I’m joyful even though I’m dying. Well, I think you are to. Your name ends in Waters and you have cooled down the fire of anger in my soul. It is ironic how the best form of joy is found in the midst of all this pain and I think I will give up on the idea of hurting you because I love you. I think that love, in the end, is what will save us. It’s our third space and the way we can connect in and through the universe.
Joyful is not a real emotion. When I think of “joyful”, I think of carefree, rosy-cheeked, and tossing flowers from a basket nonstop. Which is ridiculously unrealistic because baskets are soooo three years ago.
lily white against sapphire blue, staring,
staring at the swirl of stars falling at arm’s length
and swirling again as, arms flung wide, she turns among them
Oh how the joyful sounds of children playing. Listen and you can hear them. They are laughing and chattering and enjoying life in a way that few adults do. I want to recapture that joyful spirit.
Grip it and let it sink in. The veins will do the work of removal, and the mind will ignore and retain the joyful. And here in the waste, you must close your eyes. Accept while you can, the ignorance and lies.
Joyful is what I’m definitely not at work. Well…I shouldn’t say that entirely. I like the people I work with, the hours, and the benefits. But it’s not my passion. It’s not what I want to be doing for the rest of my life.
“Oh sing and praise Him! Make a joyful sound unto the Lord.” Danielle recited to her reflection in the mirror. Her left eye twitched as her false eyelash didn’t quite stick as perfectly as she’d hoped. Trying to run through the verses in her head didn’t do a thing to calm her roiling stomach.
She’d be on stage in less than five minutes and she was a perfect mess. “Joy, Joy, Joy, down in my heart.” She muttered to herself, peeling the eyelash off. Maybe she could skate by with just an extra coat of mascara.
The stage manager waved at her, tapping his watch, a reminder that she was on in a few minutes. She resisted the urge to bang her head against the too-big dressing room mirror. Joyful. Right. What did she know about joy?
caught in a foolish repetition
laughter is the best medicine
joyful superstition
words and silence are the same thing
without meaning we speak
like last living souls
two tied together
binded old.
Joyful is definitely what I’m not at work anymore. Well…I shouldn’t say that entirely. I like (most) of the people I work with, the hours, and benefits. But it’s not my passion. It’s not what I want to be doing for the rest of my life.
Joyful?
More like sorrowful…
A handful
Of dreams -shredded feathers really-
A shattered morphed reflection
That’s all am I
Everyone else’s perspectives
Repeated words
Known but unheard of to speak aloud
A wandering stray
That wants to stay but doesn’t want to say it
(((doesn’t have a say about it)))
All I am -and have always been- is an echo
No!
Many echoes
All echoes
I am the entire universe in a Corporal form
It created me
Shapes me
I feel raped
I’m ashamed
I cannot escape
I’m enslaved
I am the rescuer
The one who needs to be saved
I am afraid
But I cannot refrain
I am the universe’s vessel
I am not actual simply because
I
Am
Just
As
~Tangible~
As
YOU!
I am soldier of the cosmos
A lost cause it would be to fight back
To attempt battle
Or to attack
Joyful?
No dreadful….
Perhaps it would be joyful
If the world should quit it’s axial ways
But the end of days are near not yet
I’m not joyful. What does joyful mean? its a breakdown of joy and full which doesn’t mean I don’t experience joy, its just not the totality of who i am. its an innacurrate description.
The three of them stood in the garden, and watched the streamers fall all around. The little boy gripped her hand, and she swiped the other over his face. This was not a time to cry. It was not a time to cry.
They had put posters advertising his execution on the poles. Photos of his severed head had passed from person to person. She’d been handed one just an hour ago, and it was crushed, sweaty and wrinkled between her fingers.
“And a joyful day to you!” Called the vender as he dashed past her, and she inclined her head again. She glanced down at the photo, then at the boy beside her.
“Joyful indeed” She shouted after him, almost a scream and tears in her voice “My husband’s so joyful he’s downright lost his head!”
Someone tugged her inside, and she collapsed, sobbing against the unknown body. There was joys in the streets, and tears in her eyes.
Joyful. Ecstatic. In short, I was HAPPY. For years I’ve hidden in a shadow of depression, faking smiles and looking out for everyone but myself. Now, things were different. I married the love of my life, and we’re on the road to starting a family. The grass, in my case, is vibrantly greener on the other side.
It was a joyful day, the sun shining and the wind wisping past each strand of my hair. How could it get any better than this? Sure, maybe my mom is gone, but maybe it’s for the best. Maybe she’s in a better place now. If that’s the case, then maybe I can come to accept this. “Go on, June, I’ll be okay.” Those were her last words, and I’ve never cried harder.
She felt such complete joy that she didn’t ever want it to end. Emotions were fighting for top place in her body. Happiness. Euphoria unlike any she had ever felt. She hadn’t ever been as excited as that moment the prize was hers.
Stepping out into the air, with salt and sun. The way my muscles feel at the end of a long run, when it’s like–there’s no end to how strong my body can be, take it one step further. The salt of sweat. And a good coffee, starting to make me light headed, like I can do anything. It’s a dangerous feeling–joy. Makes me believe I’m invincible.
A light that beams from within a time that comes to me when all is calm and right. What we seek, think we rarely find yet find it more than we know. The trick is recognising it, basking in it and not questioning it.
Medea says that life is a potion, so you must make it for yourself!
Athena says that life is a boundary line, so you must establish it!
Medea says that life is a husband, so you must dominate it!
Athena says that life is birth, so you must spring battle ready from it!
Yes, Medea is still alive and well, even today.
Joyce Klimer, she’s not!
am joyful with meggie loving her arms and her laughter and her skin and her hands and her shoulders and the way she holds me with her knowing and her shelter. thanks dear sister, soulmate, what would i do without you, girl, in my life, we be moving mountains shouting rivers together. oh yes, dear one, dear one, hold on, we going places together.
Yusei supposed he should be joyful or something since Ushio wasn’t taking him to jail. He really didn’t want to have to explain things to his friends, not to mention they couldn’t afford the bail. He was doing the commissions for a reason, after all.
Ushio stopped in front of a normal apartment building, inside a normal parking space that had seen better days. It was lightyears better than the abandoned subway where Yusei and his friends lived.
“Follow me.” Ushio dismounted and walked inside.
Teddy gave out a joyful cry hen he saw the contents of his birthday present; a huge, remote -controlled truck. His father also nurtured a surreptitious smile; his son was reaching the age where he could buy him presents that they could both play with!
This is the feeling that I get when I dance. I am filled with a sensation that is indescribable with words. It can only be explained through the movement. I dance for joy, and I am most certainly joyful when I dance.
You reach out your hand
and grasp on
to the floating dandelion seeds
I just blew into the air.
Eyes close, nose pulls clean air
to the mind,
a smile slides in the breeze.
the bells rung
they swung to and fro,
leaping from note to note
with a robustness
strange for such heavy metal.
the sounds bounded through the town
and announced the occasion of
a great fall.
Cheer, she sat in the chair. Her back arched gently to let the chair caress the covered flesh. She grinned, her hand held and intertwined with another’s. The small fingers in touch with her’s left little beats of warmth on the edges of her hand.
I know I was joyful once.
Not “happy” in the lame typical way, but literally I was FULL OF JOY.
I don’t know what’s happened since then. I’m different. I didn’t see it coming.
I’m joyempty, now. I guess. It’s a new way of life, just for me.
I can’t fall in love with it.
Joyfully she set the present back on the table and looked upon her friends.
With a sad smile she took out a black controller device.
She said, “” I love you guys, I will always love you guys. She presses a button on the controller… and the the neighbor hood exploded
They expected us to be joyful. They expected us to bounce up and down in our brightly cushioned seats with a childish glee, our knees knocking together in an unbridled, unprofessional ecstasy. We weren’t joyful. We didn’t bounce. Not even a smile flashed across a single pair of lips in the room.
The board of trustees waited in silence for a signal of affirmation, be it applause or a whistle, or snapping fingers. No such affirmation occurred. The quiet continued for a good twenty minutes after the announcement, with no one daring to break it.
The colored hats, vibrant and goofy, candies of all flavors, green leaves and warm breezes. Blue skies and smiling faces singing happy birthday off key. Could your birthday get any better than this?
It’s just out of reach. It’s the maximum of a function you just can’t find, so you stare at your calculator, fingers scrabbling at something, anything, trying and failing. And when you finally do, when you finally pull your weary body onto the narrow ledge, you forget that you are so high up that any small thing could topple you, that this is a complete dismissal of your past and when you stare into the abyss, there is nothing but light because anything you see is through relieved lenses.
Is a feeling unfamiliar to me, but I haven’t forgotten.
feeling happy is like nothing else
and don’t let anyone tell you differently
they might make it seem that it’s wrong to be happy
because so-and-so is sad
but if you feel the light swelling within you
there is no reason to prevent it from shining out
if your eyes want to gleam
if your heart wants to glow
if you want to sing out to the world, you can.
Rolling on the carpet. Babies light your heart on fire. Running across a moor on an overcast afternoon while the heather is dancing. The green could sing you to heaven. Once, oh sweet once, joyful, detached.
Everyday for me is a joyful one indeed. God is the giver of life and my commitment to his word; to believe on him, for he alone can save us from our sins. This revelation is why I am always joyful.
There’s something so lovely about her face in the lights under the halloween jack-o-lantern. When everything falls apart a second later—as you knew it would, things like this don’t last—you don’t really react to anything, there’s just a print of her face in your mind, you remembering, and even when everything unfolds and everything ends, you
It is possible the feeling of unfettered joy is the exact opposite of feeling cynical and snarky, but then again — people do get lost in their delusions to the point where they’re absolutely joyful for reasons that are entirely dubious.
The issue was that she was so fucking joyful about it. She didn’t want help or for anyone to swoop in and fix the situation, she just wanted to smile and brush it off like it was all okay. It wasn’t though, it was horrible and that bothered me. Because it wasn’t technically MY problem, though, I could do nothing to fix it without her wanting me to. So I let her sit there, content and secure in her mess of a life, while I sat in silence.
I see that you think I’m joyful even though I’m dying. Well, I think you are to. Your name ends in Waters and you have cooled down the fire of anger in my soul. It is ironic how the best form of joy is found in the midst of all this pain and I think I will give up on the idea of hurting you because I love you. I think that love, in the end, is what will save us. It’s our third space and the way we can connect in and through the universe.
Joyful is not a real emotion. When I think of “joyful”, I think of carefree, rosy-cheeked, and tossing flowers from a basket nonstop. Which is ridiculously unrealistic because baskets are soooo three years ago.
lily white against sapphire blue, staring,
staring at the swirl of stars falling at arm’s length
and swirling again as, arms flung wide, she turns among them
Oh how the joyful sounds of children playing. Listen and you can hear them. They are laughing and chattering and enjoying life in a way that few adults do. I want to recapture that joyful spirit.
Grip it and let it sink in. The veins will do the work of removal, and the mind will ignore and retain the joyful. And here in the waste, you must close your eyes. Accept while you can, the ignorance and lies.
She smiled happily at her father in her deathbed. Not feeling any guilt or sadness, but feeling joyful. She lived with no regrets.
Joyful is what I’m definitely not at work. Well…I shouldn’t say that entirely. I like the people I work with, the hours, and the benefits. But it’s not my passion. It’s not what I want to be doing for the rest of my life.
extreme joy. When you are very excited. Very happy.
“Oh sing and praise Him! Make a joyful sound unto the Lord.” Danielle recited to her reflection in the mirror. Her left eye twitched as her false eyelash didn’t quite stick as perfectly as she’d hoped. Trying to run through the verses in her head didn’t do a thing to calm her roiling stomach.
She’d be on stage in less than five minutes and she was a perfect mess. “Joy, Joy, Joy, down in my heart.” She muttered to herself, peeling the eyelash off. Maybe she could skate by with just an extra coat of mascara.
The stage manager waved at her, tapping his watch, a reminder that she was on in a few minutes. She resisted the urge to bang her head against the too-big dressing room mirror. Joyful. Right. What did she know about joy?
caught in a foolish repetition
laughter is the best medicine
joyful superstition
words and silence are the same thing
without meaning we speak
like last living souls
two tied together
binded old.
“Does that boyfriend of yours have a real job yet?” her mother asked incredulously.
“He’s serious about opening his ‘upscale nightlife experience venue’…one day.”
“He’s still stuck on that dive bar pipe dream?” Her mother squawked.
“The Joyful Tortoise, he wants to call it.”
“Is that supposed to be ironic or suiting? I can’t tell.”
“MOM.”
Joyful is definitely what I’m not at work anymore. Well…I shouldn’t say that entirely. I like (most) of the people I work with, the hours, and benefits. But it’s not my passion. It’s not what I want to be doing for the rest of my life.
Joyful?
More like sorrowful…
A handful
Of dreams -shredded feathers really-
A shattered morphed reflection
That’s all am I
Everyone else’s perspectives
Repeated words
Known but unheard of to speak aloud
A wandering stray
That wants to stay but doesn’t want to say it
(((doesn’t have a say about it)))
All I am -and have always been- is an echo
No!
Many echoes
All echoes
I am the entire universe in a Corporal form
It created me
Shapes me
I feel raped
I’m ashamed
I cannot escape
I’m enslaved
I am the rescuer
The one who needs to be saved
I am afraid
But I cannot refrain
I am the universe’s vessel
I am not actual simply because
I
Am
Just
As
~Tangible~
As
YOU!
I am soldier of the cosmos
A lost cause it would be to fight back
To attempt battle
Or to attack
Joyful?
No dreadful….
Perhaps it would be joyful
If the world should quit it’s axial ways
But the end of days are near not yet
I’m not joyful. What does joyful mean? its a breakdown of joy and full which doesn’t mean I don’t experience joy, its just not the totality of who i am. its an innacurrate description.
The three of them stood in the garden, and watched the streamers fall all around. The little boy gripped her hand, and she swiped the other over his face. This was not a time to cry. It was not a time to cry.
They had put posters advertising his execution on the poles. Photos of his severed head had passed from person to person. She’d been handed one just an hour ago, and it was crushed, sweaty and wrinkled between her fingers.
“And a joyful day to you!” Called the vender as he dashed past her, and she inclined her head again. She glanced down at the photo, then at the boy beside her.
“Joyful indeed” She shouted after him, almost a scream and tears in her voice “My husband’s so joyful he’s downright lost his head!”
Someone tugged her inside, and she collapsed, sobbing against the unknown body. There was joys in the streets, and tears in her eyes.
Joyful. Ecstatic. In short, I was HAPPY. For years I’ve hidden in a shadow of depression, faking smiles and looking out for everyone but myself. Now, things were different. I married the love of my life, and we’re on the road to starting a family. The grass, in my case, is vibrantly greener on the other side.
It was a joyful day, the sun shining and the wind wisping past each strand of my hair. How could it get any better than this? Sure, maybe my mom is gone, but maybe it’s for the best. Maybe she’s in a better place now. If that’s the case, then maybe I can come to accept this. “Go on, June, I’ll be okay.” Those were her last words, and I’ve never cried harder.
She felt such complete joy that she didn’t ever want it to end. Emotions were fighting for top place in her body. Happiness. Euphoria unlike any she had ever felt. She hadn’t ever been as excited as that moment the prize was hers.
Stepping out into the air, with salt and sun. The way my muscles feel at the end of a long run, when it’s like–there’s no end to how strong my body can be, take it one step further. The salt of sweat. And a good coffee, starting to make me light headed, like I can do anything. It’s a dangerous feeling–joy. Makes me believe I’m invincible.