Near Miss

Death
Threatened
In those glasses
Too many,
Unknowingly –
Thought safe
Enough.
So often called
Demon Rum,
Admittedly,
The name is not
Wrong –
But apt.
Life stealing,
Jerking
Into the throes
Of sickness,
Damnable –
In its viciousness.
Recovery, tortoise
Slow demanding
Sleep,
More,
More.
The palate seared
Stomach destroyed
Nevermore –
Not ever to try
Again, to find
Some
Consolation in
Contents of
A reflective
Bottle.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Meaning

The definition
Of ourselves is uncontained
Though we trip over
Who we believe ourselves to
Be on ordinary days.

If we could see who
We are beyond the mirrors
The definition
Of our beloved desires
Might become fit for ourselves.

We may know our worth
Only told in lightning flashes
Suspended briefly
The definition above
Our limits of faith, knowledge.

Cool, cool, the water
We bathe over minds aflame
Trying to search out
A purpose, reason, needed
To give life definition.

Over a lifetime
We may find God, the Living
Definition, all
Understanding given us
Proving life miraculous.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

In this poem I made each stanza in the form of a tanka. If you notice I like to do this often.

As a prompt, use a form or pattern to create a work. Adapt whatever you choose to your use.

Captivated

You stole my heart
Without any reason,
But an opportune appearance
On an ordinary evening –
When loneliness was
Breaking life wide open,
Threatening a rain of tears.

The vacancy sign was faded,
The chambers needing airing,
Webbing in the corners
Where light lost definition
Could be poorly assessed.

You sauntered in
With a smile so clearly meant –
It swept what lingered
Out and renewed confidence
In pristine style and I was
Only left speechless with no
Inkling of love going wild,
How it could fill our days
With the pleasant haze
Of sweet romance given
A windfall chance making
Life a dance of wonder
No matter where we wander.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Prompt: Whatever you create, imbue it with the wonder that keeps you alive.

Sundry

The light
Pales across –
Accomplishments wane
Viewed through
Eyes many Wintered;
Who knows
Why the crow
Is black,
The crimson roses
Bite with thorns?

Did some magic put
These joining hands
Together
To support the art
Which makes love sprout
Creative
Fostering unspoken dreams?

Does
The page or
Pen
Have the syllable
Pattern
Before committed
Or are we the
Wild agents
Spreading
Chaos
With
Each
Line?

If time
Could
Choose
Would
History
Change its spots
And people
Go FREE
Into what beyond is
Never
Thought in waking
Fantasy?

Sow gardens
Seeded
In kindness,
Reap
LOVE,
Plant
Fear,
Take blows,
Issue blood,
What with
Adequate awareness
Will
Be
Done?

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Twixt

What comes before,
What goes behind,
Precious moments
Out of time.
Where all we were,
Are, and will be,
Becomes the outwork
Of beloved dreams.
Nothing is as
It seems,
Except love which
Carries us between.
No time, other,
Bears such affinity
As the present given
To fill with living.
We, the blessed, are –
Love sharing life
In the material world,
Adding reason to why.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan