Shuffling

Who am I? No one,
A dreamer with unfulfilled
Dreams, bursting the seams.


Tears threaten to throw,
All the plans, carefully made,
Into fading shade.


Capricious Elocution

I think I write
But sometimes it seems
The words write me,
Searching out my heart, soul,
Tearing me to shreds, making whole.
Words are precious existence,
Love distilled for meaning –
Making clear the gleaning
Of was, is, will be
In almost captured dreams;
Streams laden with hope –
Wild flames catching time
Setting sentences to rhyme,
Only tell, what is the line,
Am I it, or is it mine?

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Looking at how writing works, I often find that it is a mystery no matter how I study. I thought one day I would understand, but I suppose the state is unmeant for me.

The truth is I cannot put it aside even when I am confused by the gift. Writing is heart, soul, consolation for the pains and troubles. Forever Friend!

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s