Again Then

Time does not come
Tied-up
In pretty ribbons
Red and Blue,
More evidently
Purple –
Green of a stubborn
Bruise,
An ebony night, or
Sun bright raging
Thirsty day
When
That is, the harrowing
Cold is
Out of season.

Prizes
Are rare and never
Given for participation,
No,
Those gains only come
With blood, sweat, pain –
Paid
Perhaps by generations
Who strive to keep
Love, faith, effort alive;
Tears,
Prayers over many years
Are not just present,
The future
Is also their target;

Entreating God
His mercy, grace to
Unleash
That survivors remain
Christ’s love to proclaim –
Overcoming
Overwhelming dangers, trials,
Through the continual
Outworking of individual salvation.

© 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.

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

Cannot Lose

If creative practice is coming hard, the feeling is uninspired; this is not the time to break off working or quit. Waiting on the muse is not the way to breakthrough; action begets action.

When working, even without vision, the focus often appears. Creativity is not always fire from on high; sometimes, it works in the dark when the well is parched.

The best way to grow ability, skill, and talent is to use those endowments every day. Even stolen moments give time for proper application.

Creative block is a myth, or most often. The work is always available when dearly sought. Sometimes it may seem a safari fraught with desert spaces, but the jungle exists and is lush. Putting in the time, presence, generates ideas – effort reaps priceless rewards.

Practice daily, even when love lapses, passion ebbs, tunes the imagination for more significant endeavors. Sometimes it falls flat, but mistakes and failures can fold in as ingredients in other projects.

Journals, sketchbooks, devices can gather up scraps, scribbles, those pieces that become something more defined. Having a place to collect all the fragments that appear throughout the hours of the day permits imperfection and play.

Creativity is always present, but it can be shy and requires inviting into every day.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan