Category: Creativity

Busy, Busy

I live in my head more often than not, but over the last two days, I have also spent time in the real world. Albeit, my real world, I did extensive work inside the house yesterday and outside it today.

My encounters with bugs, snakes, snails, reminded me why I prefer interiors. Guess I should expect the critters living in the woods, but they are creepy.

I brought in the towels used to sop up excess water when the Explorer leaks. As I got in the mud room a little green lizard, an anole, went flying across the room. It promptly hid out. I said some prayers hoping I could return it to the wild, because it would die in here.

I fixed Pepperjack Cheese Waffle Fries and ate them. When I went back to the door awhile later I saw my visitor. I tried to catch it, but on the third try I prayed again, and somehow I caught the little cutie. I held its tail while it sat on my bicep and took it out to the porch.

I am glad to say the release was successful. I am quite sore, and my computers still won’t go on the internet, so I am brief.

I hope you have an excellent rest of the week. Everybody’s Working For The Weekend by Loverboy. Stay safe and remember love is what the whole world needs.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Best Friends

When we are faced
With challenges which move us
Beyond our limits
There is a recognition
We must befriend ourselves to
Accomplish our purposes.
Sometimes this is hard,
Knowing who we are, being
Aware of all faults,
It is a difficult thing
To process but must be done.
We can accept each
Part of our being with care
And find ourselves fair
In aspect and humor by
Finding good things in
Our character, bodies, thoughts,
Giving credit for accomplishments,
Deeds done, tasks completed in
Those times when we went
Over and beyond, each of us
Is precious, worthy, valuable.
It is something to reflect upon
When we doubt, or there seems
Nothing we can do; within everyone
There are strength and ability
To be brought forth in trials,
Never Give Up, Believe In Yourself.
Overcoming is often only
A matter of patience and persistence,
We are resilient,t and we will make
The world a better place
One loving action at a time.
Becoming one of our best friends
Is a gift we should grant ourselves.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Return

I thought there were angels!
Every polished tile floor, numbered,
Held more, patient there, watching
Over me, who had been far gone,
Someone, I think I knew, called me,
“Come back; there’s no time to leave,
Yet,” I was sent unwilling, not of my
Volition. Pain, it was all too much,
Nothing was left I wanted – touch.
Reality was a terror-filled dream,
Oh, so, awful – rigid deadly thing.

Waking, on pristine white sheets,
Hooked-up, white walls even in
The reflection of a light slice bounced,
Through the half-open windowed door,
Pulling loose, crumply legs – shaken,
Securing myself, balanced over feet.
Thousands, whispers, voices
In the air, surrounding everywhere,
Steps slow to the door, an angel
There waiting, noticing me, “Do you
Hear something?” Tones, soft, deep.
My eyes searching, not seeing as I turn,
This, that way, some trick, the sound,
“Yes, I hear speaking, yelling, but they
Are not here, present, anywhere.”
The angel with a half-smile, “It’s okay,
You’ve come back. You’ll be safe.
Settle, stay.” I thought, ‘Not an angel
After all, cause my life, more often,
Disaster loves than ordinary days.’

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

I tried to write about waking up in the hospital after days; they say I nearly died or could have stayed comatose. Instead, I got a chorus, and I have learned to live somehow in and out of time.

Cry It Over

Forgive me the moments
When I become lost beneath
Feelings which cut all
Reasoning off, I retrieve
Myself with tears, singing, prayer,
The revelations
That cast out paranoia, fear;
I hope you avoid
All those “cracks in the fabric,”
But you know my thoughts wander;
Happiness, standing
In the storms of desperation,
But crying to sing
Praises, although the brokeness
Will never leave, disappear.
I learn, learn again,
That life is overpowering –
Sometimes hearts bleed out,
I apply pressure, bandages,
Hoping God will fill the lack;
I do not own my
Faith, Jesus is love for everyone,
But He maybe loves me so,
Stops my hand when I come undone,
It is not a pretty story, fighting crazy –
Is hard luck, but there must be
Some purpose, for here I remain.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

I cannot describe for you all there is in what troubles me at times. Once in awhile I attempt to put Schizoaffective Disorder into words. I am not good at it. Recently times are very trying, though there is the mania too. Maybe it does not matter to others. I do not know. I just write what I am given when I am given to know.

As a prompt, you might create something about a challenge you face. It could be a food allergy, a learning impairment, a thing you must conquer, anything really. The thing with this is to open yourself to see the strength in your weakness, and possibly gain courage from sharing.

It seems to me, we all need to be real. If we want to come closer to peace we have to understand who we are. Weaknesses and faults are part of that, being transparent.