
When I did my first 365 I posted journal pages daily. I rarely do it now. Maybe someone needs this, and to me handwriting adds an urgency print cannot.

When I did my first 365 I posted journal pages daily. I rarely do it now. Maybe someone needs this, and to me handwriting adds an urgency print cannot.
There are authors I return to with zeal. I read enough I have a variety of favorites. One I discovered in high school is James A. Michener. I read Centennial then and it cemented his finesse in the very highest echelon of my regard.
Recently, I read two of his excellent novels. One, coming in at 1425 pages, is The Source. This is set on that parcel of land sacred to three major religions. It begins in prehistory and tells very engaging stories coming into modernity. I am still thinking of it fondly. I gave it 5 stars, and doubt I find much more engrossing this year.
The second is a bit shorter, at 753 pages. Space is a novel of the American Space Program. It has everything one could want in an epic of an epic era. Mr. Michener is a consummate storyteller weaving yarns that keep one up well past decent bedtimes. This was also a 5 star rendering.
You would do well to read these. If you look for instruction in the craft as you read, these will deal you Aces.
© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan
Who Wins
When nation defies nation
And worlds are run about
With grain rotting in fields
And children foregoing classes
Does anyone grow richer?
I doubt it, for loss somewhere
Is everywhere some brand trial
Making one orphan, another widow
Splitting hairs does not rid
Anyone hours tossing on pillows.
© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan
Prompt: If you are without, get Writing Down The Bones by Natalie Goldberg for inspiration.
Enchantment
I slept my birthday
Night in the golden canvas
Raft sunflowered in my room
Where the carpet made deep sea,
Daylight came teasing me up.
Nights to weekend, treat,
I lounged in the comfort
Of the Summer smelling
Island centered in from bunks
Feeling pillowed aboard
Rope dangling dreaming water.
When I pushed the small boat
Into the lake, my tan legs pimpled
Like plucked chicken skin
I dove toward the center
But bathed in the crisp cold
Shivering after the floated away.
Lessons sometimes tear
The gentle expected flinching
Off life teaches young, memory
Buys nothing but bills unpaid
True oneself bites, slips, cast-off
Keep confidence to grab on
Not even this, forever, but long.
© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan
Rising In Time
Sometimes life pummels us
Others it is best of friends
A reason to keep going when
Tension weighs enough to bend
The ideas of purpose, worth – thin.
Struggle on the river
Leaves hearts, souls, a quiver
Bodies in frigid winds shiver
Fragile warmth, conversation titters
As hope alights, the sweet giver.
Love assays each situation
Making experience an equation
Depositing delight by multiplication
All goodness finds attribution
In Christ’s generous contribution.
Prompt: Use rhyme or repetitive symbology in a work of creativity.
© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan
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