Interesting Times

When words buckle beneath the pressure to flow, all I know is to let go. I have not found a magic token to purchase creativity’s flow.

I kept hoping that my Facebook account would be reinstated, but it appears I lost it permanently on August 5th. It is sad. Friends have told me I should make a new account, but I think if they take mine, I can not begin again.

I am dog sitting Maui for Alex while he is in transition to a more permanent home. You might notice Tribble is least concerned and going her way.

I am not quite sure how I forgot in my troubleshooting to unplug the device, but I called Amazon for help. I felt about as dumb as ever.

The Samsung A32 is working far above my expectations. I love using my phone again.

Having a refrigerator is a blast. Almost three months without one, I am so glad that is over.

I am using Twitter a bit. My Facebook friends are not all on there, but it is okay.

Writing is an exploration of thoughts that come to mind when we march words onto the page. The war begins when we force them into intense sense by editing such that we bleed grammar and style.

Happy Labor Day! I hope you have time to enjoy a break.

Guitar Riff

Music became life
On a full-size bed where dance
Was called by my brother
On his electric blue Fender
With white highlights and magic.
I was just little
He was my hero, and is,
Though we had our downs,
He has gone ahead, but I
Think of him often and all
The talent carried
In someone I could see, touch,
Have play songs for me,
I guess he jams with those who
He could play in such detail.
I still love the sound
Of music turned up a bit loud
My dancing is less
Beautiful and precise, but
The songs bring me back to life.

Learning, Living

Beginning: I was love,
Softness in words, deeds,
Meeting incessant needs.
Time taught: The world,
A hard place to fall;
My mistakes, misdeeds
Caused cruel stinging pain.
Learning: Reading, writing,
Were who I quickly became.
Maladies: Kept home, taught
A body could be a traitor.
Determination: A semblance
Of the best salvaged from rest.
Passions: Love came easily
For music and dance,
Building stories better than my life,
Writing poems at every chance.
World: Water was my element,
I flirted with the hungry magic –
Of fire, at many campsites.
School: Lessons were not hard,
I studied gruelingly, but kids,
Were often less than kind,
I hurt but pursued devotedly,
A well-educated mind.
Romance: When invaded,
I embraced it and have
Never really let it go,
I have loved occasionally,
And lost much the same,
Only bits of my heart
Have remained with those
Who my passion claimed.
Tragedy: I learned a mind
Could be shattered and
After, rearranged, though
Never working quite right;
Certain God does miracles,
And pieces can be fashioned –
Into something precious, if
One lives long enough to grow.
Mission: I try to learn how to
Illustrate lessons I come to know,
Loving those who cross my path
But I often mess up on the way;
I tried, learned it is okay to be me.

I wrote the poem above in my journal. It was much different.

As a PROMPT: Take something you have created, either long past or recently, and do a critical and exhaustive reworking. I usually say calm and ignore your inner critic, but you should allow it out to play at this time.

GRATITUDE:
Time spent on the phone with my son, Alex.
My being an editor.
My ability as a writer.
WordPress: It saved my MSN Spaces blog by transferring it to Chronicles.
I woke up early enough to put the Explorer out of the rain so the leak would not cause problems.

You know the drill, do as you will.

Everything on Haphazard Creative is © Jo Ann J. A. Jordan, please consult me for permissions.

Was A Moment

Silence covered us
Holding us together, apart,
In space, time, open
To the music between
In keeping with unexpressed
Feelings labeled – undefined.

Nothing spoken, no touch,
Could move our share much;
All ladled like soup,
Into bowls flowing with steam
Passion below the surface
Squeezed with covers of wild dream.

Part and portions given, real,
Misunderstanding enough to feel,
Fully gratified, satisfied,
Betide passion and wanting
To enter whatever door disclosed
Shores where love reigns supreme.

A moment came which presented
The possible opportunity of knowing,
Choices appeared positive
But somehow, the mistakes made
Evaporated certainty like raindrops
Refracting from Summer pavement.

What was ours became ethereal
A band, solid but impermanent
As lightning across an azure sky,
Characters who played out
Emotions for which we never paid,
However, memories we cannot mislay.

Prompt: Create something relating to a past time invested with lots of emotion.

Gratitudes:
The day is closing.
Nothing terrible happened.
I figured out why my devices were not writing to SD cards.
It was warmer.
Memory can be a great escape.

Thank you for coming by. Comments, Likes, Shares, Suggestions are all requested if you have time and inclination. Ways to follow are in the sidebar. I hope you have fun on the downslide of the week. God bless.

Allusions

You know I am crazy.

This morning I was covered in goosebumps and asked him if he had a jacket I could wear. He went upstairs and brought me a sweatshirt.

I asked him if he had heard Barbara’s song off the Songbird album, “Honey, Can I Put On Your Clothes?” He is like a musical encyclopedia and can recite, well, you would not believe.

He said, “No.” So I sang it. Then he asked if I had a shirt like that. I said, not really. He said you can have that one.

Sometimes I am crazier than everything.

Pictograph

We’re not in love
No, no, no, we’re not,
He is still caught up
In memories of her;
I try to be someone
Freeing him for a time
From the constant grind
Of all the problems
He is called upon
To solve each second,
Of every single day.
He shares his tastes
In music, humor, art,
I learn sometimes
That I am not so strange
As I have often thought,
There is a contemporary
Person who gets
The boundless part of me.
He helps me with
My myriad problems
Encouraging me to
Continue in my efforts,
And our hugs help
Us deal with this time
Of social isolation;
But no, he is not in love
And says he never will.
I share him with a ghost
But somehow, that feels
Familiar, it is usually
Reversed – so I can deal
With it for now, and
Perhaps eventually
We will find a place
In one another’s orbit
That allows us to feel
What is already there
As something real.