Haphazard Creative

If we took a wastebasket full
Of crumpled papers
With words encased upon
Each and every sheet,
Then pulled out pieces
To put together thoughts,
Join in lines, rhymes,
Remedies complete;
Perhaps loves would
Understand the meaning
Of the title, a mind, a jumble
Haphazard Creative,
Put a semblance of order
Who long realized
Exacting lines become too
Tame to capture what
A wildling person
Can believe is real
Only love and God
Can all truth reveal.

I do not know, it just came, and I wrote it. It seems I have a line that keeps pulling down the sinker.

Gatherings In

Our animals claim
Us for every moment shared
Then leave us only –
Broken, tearful, and lonely,
Because they became family.

***

Love is a wolf cub
Crying as its growth begins,
Howling when in need.

***

The darkest places
Only need a candle to
Bring them into light.

***

I counted all the things –
Realized what was most wanted
Could be found inside.

***

Know, nothing can stop
Those who believe impossible
Describes possibilities.

***

The woman who gives
Herself to others away –
Will need herself back.

***

Choose expenditures
With care as they determine
Future realities

***

The dawn swells before
It births into brilliant light,
Dispelling the night.

***

I imagine dreams
Of extraordinary things –
A life of love brings.

***

Two lives returning
To things once thought over, done,
Are newly begun.

***

Nothing unreal as
Doubt or fear can cause harm if
We refuse it room.

***

The roar of applause
Will hardly greet an entrance
But the wind may howl
With glee when outside we meet
Strangers making harmony.

***

I loved you from when
Until now and know somehow
I will love you then –
Loving you is forever,
Always, and with you again.

***

I do not know why
Rain reminds me of the time
When you were still mine.

***

I washed away stains
Left when the day departed,
The tears quite a waste.

***

If the sun’s light grows,
We must remember ourselves
Before love can show.

***

Broken building blocks
On the site of construction,
Foundation unsound.

***

We wanted to be
Living in each other’s skin,
But could not begin.

***

You bypassed my mind
Dove straight into the open
Space within my heart,
I became willing captive
Of your voracious desire.

***

They said, “You cannot,”
I flinched not believing it,
I continued to
Do whatever I could do –
No one can limit the truth.

***

These were haiku and tanka. I like counting syllables. It suits me, particularly with my relationship with arithmetic. Haiku are three lines 5-7-5 syllables. Tanka are five lines 5-7-5-7-7 syllables. If you have watched me a while, you might have noticed I join these in longe poems. I love a seven-syllable line, there is an endless possibility there. All this is play, just noodling, like doodles. It keeps me locked in time, that can be a challenge.

As a prompt, should you wish, write your own. Be warned, they can be addictive.

Looking, See

Every time I sing,
“Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,”
I am back in Elementary,
A class where I am the newest,
Not feeling the belonging.
A class where everyone stands
Hands to foreheads, looking over
Me, because I am Jordan, and
Being so shy, uncomfortable,
Wishing
I could disappear,
Never to return, suddenly.
Those words, words always,
The beauty, treasure of music,
A reflection in me, chasing me,
Now, every day I have become, am,
A creature of words, meaning, using
The tension between love, fear,
To live,
Alive, creativity,
Imagination in each moment
Wherever it is I may come to be;
I am a wordsmith, poet, magic,
Wielding a trusty pen, keyboard,
Against forces which might be happy
To see me silent, hidden, gone from
The fight, but I must still
Write.
It is who I am, delight.
Now you, do not quit, never
Give up, words transcend our
Troubles, they illuminate what
Must be acknowledged,
With words we start
To circulate the powers
Of goodness, kindness, generosity,
Love,
Into all those places where
Positive change can invade
Sending doubt, fear, darkness away.
So unleash your heart, soul,
Create,
Be courageous, bold, the world
Awaits our creativity to
Unabashedly unfold.

Oddly Enough

Failure is sometimes
The reason for one’s success
Because giving up
Rarely appeals and we find
We try a little harder
Each time things do not
Go our way, we plan to do
Something different
Make it work another day,
And should it not, tomorrow
Offers a chance, too.
Failure is experience
Dressed in deep disguise,
We keep experimenting
Until our dreams work out right.

Story Start – She Is

She did not like to say life was hard, because she recognized everyone had challenges, problems, struggles. Adding her bit to the misery did not seem right. She ate her consternation, her pain, along with what she collected from others. She tried to sample them only in privacy.

She found herself continuously resorting to prayer as she knew no other way to deal with such a multitude of troubles.

Sitting alone in this blindingly white room on perfectly cornered snowy linen in a gown that was allowing the air to nip at her back and behind, she felt more vulnerable than she liked. Her mind would drift into fear, and she would call it back like a hyperactive unleashed dog. Sometimes it obeyed, and she could bring it to heel, sometimes not.

The battle she faced was not unlike others, where her life was invaded. The trick was always finding a way to continue, overcome, survive. She snatched up her smile, painted it in permanent pigments, trusted her prayers, were continually heard, and chose joy over doubt. She might be weak, her weapons dull, but love was strong and capable. Even something life-threatening could not keep her down.

Seraphina would be okay, whatever befell, she determined to go bravely with a pleasant countenance and a spirit yielded to God.