Moms

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

To every woman who has borne a child, to those who have offered hearts of love to children in need of tenderness, you have my undying gratitude and respect. More than anything else, those who nurture children are heroines of the super denomination. God bless every one.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Eligibility Indeed

Some said there was not
Any way it could work out
Too much at stake, about
A zillion ways to go wrong,
But hope stood by in support.
The ideas seemed solid, right,
No one could stop what began
Not one found, as an also-ran
No guarantees but love, delight,
Laser-lighted heart and mind.
Could it happen? Would it be?
Might the practice succeed?
Should impossibility thrive?
Naysayers did not a defense rally,
Many tried to end opportunity.
All hours, days, months, years
Progress delivered with salty tears,
Mistakes, failures, dead stops
Such negativity bore down a lot;
Somehow creativity survived, a poet
Poetry unleashed – becomes the poem.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Prompt: What is your experience of creativity? Is it always cheerful and pleasant, or does it sometimes come when it lifts your mind from depths of darkness? Create something juxtaposing the good and bad parts of your practice.

Not Being

I am not being today,
I am still human
Because I was born that way –
But being, I have not
The energy, inspiration, or heart
I cloak myself in gloom
And hide away cocooned.
I disappear best I can
Make no contact with humans,
Maybe I will burn out
Like the main over-loaded,
Or fade away like jeans
Worn and washed too
Often because they fit a way.
I cannot be; alone is too
Much for me, but there is
No one who wishes me
To see, speak, love
I am a left-over no longer
Fit to any appetite.
Life becomes a tune
Turned down, a whisper,
I cannot dance it right,
I continue, locked out the doors
So living is a complex device;
I am not being today.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Moods steal over me from time to time; I am okay, just aware. I guess it is incredibly revealing, but I am honest.

Prompt: Create something that reveals a portion of yourself often protected from view.

Come Closer

When tempted only to browse
Not close, not truly see
One avoids involvement
In everything completely.
Dandelions are destitute weeds
Not delicate creations, beauty,
People become utilitarian
Not deriving from incomprehensible
Depths of dignity, glamour, time.
The slant rays limning a vine
Do not enchant causing one
To desperately pine for a glimpse
Of crimson roses sent once
Upon a splendid loving time.
There is no magic, allure,
No precious heavenly divine
Each thing is dust fashioned
To feast upon with unrequited lust.
Slow a bit, look, long linger
Over what the world passes by,
The silver flicker of sun lighting waves,
A raindrop reflecting golden from clover,
The wingbeats gentle susurration
Of the murder of crows rising
Into the cerulean sky as a fierce
Beribboned Shih Tzu puppy walks
With a small bark and no chase to find.
Come, come, be entranced again
Let nature, environments,
Become the closest of friends,
Treasure every person, let
Humanity delight, rousing love
To light fires of generosity, kindness;
Gather hope that tomorrow will divulge
The abundant pleasures of happiness
Filling each day full-measure, overwhelming,
And to God all the glory, gratitude.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan