Through Support

They are lit, limelight,
Center focus, open stage,
People we adore
Though rare speak we in homage,
They are loves, pleasures, and more.
When we think, purpose,
Reason to continue on
Our meaning, given,
Those relative unknowns who
Populate our lives are enough.
Sometimes memory
Must sustain us over years –
Because loss appears,
But recollection carries
Us through times of doubt and fear.
Those brave-hearted souls
Who inspire, we always have
Within us retained
To bolster our courage in
Times when giving up is easy.
Quiet warriors,
Unremarked these denizens
Of love’s sweet country,
Are life, breath, health, sustaining
Every achievement, gain, deed.

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© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Creativity, Due Activity

I have to think that paradise exists because there must be something to counter this absolute.

I remember I was a tyke, my cousin (adult) who visited saw me writing. Colored pencils on pieces of notebook paper I cut down to fit my lines. This before school years, he looked, saw I was writing positive ideas, I was happiness. He asked me if he could take those words, lines, kid musings, and publish them to help others. I said yes, then asked if I would get my name or money, acquisitive child. He said I would help make the world a better place. I wonder, sometimes ponder. The expectation became, an maybe always was, do good, be love, help.

I have been part of publishing almost my whole life, not that it paid the bills, but that does not always motivate me. I have read so widely, owning an ark of books, and we do not talk about my Kindle library. Libraries have been my oasis, to the point I was there more often than anywhere but home. The magazines I read were a smorgasbord. This still tends to be the case.

I was told by a near/dear I was too stupid to use a computer, but I bought one at earliest opportunity. I had already exp!ored a Tandy and Atari and had a Pong. My KLH from Sam’s Club was decided after checking Apple in 1991, and that one was soon turned over to my tyke, who was an inquisitive three. I acquired a scanner, cameras, Wacom tablet, more computers, Photoshop, Corel, Office, Pagemaker, and with a little work, a stable of contributors for a digest-sized desktop published magazine. I sent contributor copies worldwide, but the money, like often, was not there.

At the time, were I not me, I probably could have made the deficit up with advertising. I believe rapacious advertising is responsible for many ills of our society. The mental health of many citizens is negatively impacted by the expectations raised and then left unmet because economics prevent people from attaining their inflated desires.

My hopes run toward society recovering its interest in the well-being of citizens, not the unreasonable profits of mega-corporations. Devising restraints on tantalizing over-intrusive advertising would positively affect this goal. I am a single voice, I restrict.advertising’s access to my attention through active cultivation of selected media. I have done this since teen years. My concern is our littlest ones and those who are losing themselves to ad-fueled despondency.

Love is the worthy aim for all who care for life. Personal interaction, attention to those closest to us, recognizing the devastating lure of things beyond possibility, and stepping up when help becomes necessary, these are love’s calling.

Paradise, they would let you think you can buy it. I hope you know; it is not for sale.

I am a dreamer, a lover, a soul adrift; I live the creative life as best I can, a poet who believes. Some call me crazy… But I still have a lovely mind. TMI. Well…

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Um, Victory

It is not daily
I choose the outside of things
The challenge it brings,
But braver today I did
For those medical reasons.
Of course, I bear fear
The coronavirus leers
Like a rabid fox
Its grin a horror drooling
Germs so unsightly with need.
Cast about the mind
Safe quarters, fair harbor, set
The self barrier
To foreign bodies entrance;
Beware the pungent sneeze.
A sample places;
DQ, Sam’s Club, Resurgens,
Kroger feels too much,
Who Wants To Live Forever
An appropriate stream, Queen.
Tried to find my voice
To pitch a page, no dulcet
Tones casting, grating off-key
Would have bought peace, health,
But none of those were available.
Bananas, grapes, raisins, milk
Were among what I could retrieve
From the mini-cities titled stores.
The shots in knees, ouch,
For my betterment those are
So far showing some gain against
Debilitating pain, only sleep
Is a disappearing angel when
I still myself, hurt tackles me.
I return home an acquisitive scoundrel
With life-giving plunder, seemingly
Aright, without the blight of acquired
Disease, just overtired wishing
To find my ease in an ocean of
Consonants, vowels, punctuation,
To free me from a too clear focus
On what is become of reality.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

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Just some thoughts. Framed while they remain.

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.

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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.

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© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan