Sunday’s Thoughts

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

I wrote these with a fountain pen, which is not my best instrument. These are my journal pages. If you read them, you will get insight into where and what my state of mind is.

I would have scanned them into the computer, but my equipment and the program did not cooperate with me. Therefore, I did the phone as I have for the past months.

Showing journal pages is a level of openness I can do, but it is a bit uncomfortable. I have no idea how this audience will react, so it is a gamble.

How revealing can you be? Consider that a prompt.

Blessings, I hope, always find you. Jesus, lend you peace. Live, alive, and Love cause that is why we are here on Earth.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

2022 Creativity Project – March 6

Wookie

I was broken
Lost my “Hope”
Needed belief,
Her face –
That beauty –
Unbearable
To go on
Without,
Threw all
Including
Thanksgiving,
Aside to go
Rescue
The Marbles
That almost
Demolished
My physicality.

Today, truce,
I never
Trust her,
She sometimes
Believes in me,
We love each
Other with
A dis-ease
Like magnets
Attracting
Repelling.

She is
A lunatic,
I am mental,
We suit
One another
Because
We learned
To trust
Whatever
We are
It could get
Better,
It could be
Worse,
But who
We are is
Together.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Prompt: Maybe you have an “unsettling” relationship. Create…

Means

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

I have been meaning
To explain who I am, may be,
Is not always who
Strictly I mean as defined
By this voice, words, these two feet.

My eyes carry clues,
But even they lack evidence
Because the heart-beat
In my chest and the preserve
Of my mind go further, deep.

What you see is not
Often what you get, riches
Are hidden in doubt
Covered in terrible fear
Holding back, choking on tears.

I cannot stand here
Yet, I do, as I believe
I must. Why? Because
Someone should do what it takes
To wake the community,

Convey mentally ill
Can live without most restraints
Doing possible
Like anyone, though made harder,
Complications, divergent ways,

Creativity
Finds a flowing flood falls fast
Dipped body whole
Going within and without
Never giving up or in,

The voice louder, in
Color brighter, some wilder,
Linked like all others,
Human, as someone newborn,
Those long-lived; loved thoroughly,

The same/different,
Untamed, giving, love alive,
God placed – no mistake,
Painting history’s pages
With sharing, reach, making much.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Gratitude List

I am thankful:
1. I have been waking earlier.
2. I am enjoying my corded keyboard and mouse.
3. I have recently finished several books.
4. I created art this morning.
5. I appreciate that I have a home.

Prompt
Think about your life and the human condition and pick an instance that appeals from which to create a written or artistic work.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

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.

Maui, Wookie, and Tribble

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.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

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.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan