After Quarantine

The world is made new
Different than any have
Previously seen,
A quieter, less crowded place
For we have sheltered in homes.
Those who solitary
Embrace, enjoy, are at peace,
But most are denied
The routine, familiar pace
That verified lives defined
By haste, and social interaction.
This contraction is revoking
Much we all depended upon,
We had no inkling commerce,
Education, government, health care
Could be like the empty shelves
Where toilet tissue used to be,
But now, we know the economy
Can fail because contagion invades.
The mystery
Will we return to business as
Usual if or when the deaths end?
Could we be fortified to live
More independently, freely,
Functioning successfully on our own?
We have been catapulted into
A space-time continuum
We did not expect or choose to share,
We are commissioned with the duty
To bring care, kindness, and love,
To this New World unfolding
Unfathomably before us
Moment by moment.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan



Why must there be hate?
Why must the lovely be killed?
What possesses those
Who cause inestimable
Harm to individuals?

Somehow combat must
Ensue within hearts, homes, schools,
To irradicate
That nurturing such malice;
LOVE must permeate, prevail.

Kindness, LOVE, bringing wisdom,
To the commonest of days;
Change may begin, take hold, win.

It can happen now
If our hearts – love and care, embrace
For the human race,
Treasuring each thing shared here,
LOVE leaves nothing still undone.


When I read of people meeting a violent end, it cuts into my heart and makes me feel that there should be better ways to handle life. All the stories ended, when a person dies are such a horrible tragedy to me.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

It Is For Such Days…

I am 56 years old, my son is 31. For years circumstances have widely separated us geographically. We have remained best friends through the wonders of technology. The kid got his first computer at age three. He is wildly creative, has over 100,000 words on a novel you will hear about soon enough. He has been home with me since early December, except for a few trips he took to visit others.

I irritate him a lot; I have bizarre idiosyncrasies. We get along, though, and we work together somewhat. He wants me to be bold, like himself, I am a coward. I asked him last night if he would go with me today. I explained it was Norma’s memorial service, for which Richard requested I write a poem and read it there. He surprised me and said yes. Alex is an inspiration to me always; we have been through so much.

We got Chick-Fil-A for lunch, which Alex puts up memes about being God’s restaurant. He allowed me to read the poem because I do not do public readings. He said I did it well. I thought, well, maybe I can do it.

We got there way early. My Mom always believed in being way early, and I seem to carry on her habit. We talked. We went inside, and I was reproached because there was an individual there, and I mentioned it to Alex. He was right, but… and he says there are no buts. Anyway, we went back outside. It did not seem many people I knew were about that early.

When we came back inside, one of the funeral directors talked to me and gave me an order of service. We spoke to Richard when the room opened. When we sat, one of my favorite people came up, and I got hugs. I love hugs. We promised to be better in touch. I hope it occurs.

When the service began, some very renowned poets were read by a very distinguished person. She opened the floor for attendees to speak, there was no movement or sound. So she said, maybe Jo Ann Jordan, who is a local poet, would like to say something. Yeah, me. I walked up to the steps and prayed that my knees would allow me to make it up to the podium. It was a near thing. You do not know my knees.

Next, I stumbled through the presentation.

Betwixt Times

Sometimes two people
Find the perfect match within
One another and mesh
So their souls permanently
Entwine, declaring them complete.

Cherishing each other
They come to understand
Their bond is so rich,
Their complement so pure;
Lives shared are exceptional.

Norma and Richard
Were always present to give,
Contribute whatever
Was required for their success;
And helping others do their best.

Love infused their lives
So there could be no doubt
Their dedication
To one another was sure and true,
Adoring, always respecting, the two.

Working together
They did it in perfect sync,
Creating things of which
Others could only dream;
They were a successful team.

Norma was a rare beauty,
Quiet in public, but given
To laughter and devotion,
Kind, tender, precious, sweetness,
Expressing love at home.

It is a tearful loss
Dealt out of season, against time,
The world a bit dimmer,
Without the smiles and gentleness
Norma so freely shared with all.

Her creativity
Dedication, work ethic,
Motivation we can
Hope to reflect, even as
We miss Norma’s selflessness.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan
Thursday, January 16, 2020

“With Norma and our two kitties, we have had a home full of continuous love, respect, laughter, and adoration.” – Mr. Richard Nichols

I did the poem reading my large print copy with some muddling when I had to change pages. When I did manage to look up, there was Alex, smiling, which no one knows how that helped.

I got all messed up on Richard’s quote adding extra ands, but it really is a miracle I could do it at all. I love and respect Norma and Richard more than I can express. They have been mentors and friends to me. My copy editing is directly due to their influence.

I forgot to pray before I headed down those steps, and what a mess I made.

The service was the most inspirational memorial I have ever seen. Richard spoke, and I managed not to cry there, but I have tears now.

Norma had a truly angelic spirit and was one of the most highly intelligent creative people ever. She will be sorely missed.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan








Suggestions, Perhaps?


Respectful Restriction

Gates open and close,
Allow entrance and exit,
But they also lock.
Sometimes there is no going
Through barriers facing us.

Neighborly fences
Can save us torturous pain,
Where parties respect
Limits that secure freedom
And borders are not breached.

The gates of morning
Let in the nourishing sun
Lighting life each day,
Night swift falls, portcullis like,
Calling us to wangle sleep.

We live between gates
Though we believe we are free,
The beginning, birth,
The conclusion, death, and yet:
Eternal resurrection.

In this beautiful
Time we spend between the gates
We should live – alive,
We should be real, with the gates
Of experience thrown wide.

We are who we are
And we can create our lives,
Miracles abide,
Even in the dark, some gates
Guide us to places we belong.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Sometimes people wonder about inspiration. I took the photo this afternoon. I picked it randomly from a selection of several. Afterward, I determined to write a “GATE” poem. You just roll how you roll.

Before the Rain

Day Eleven – 2020 Creativity Project


This birdcage is at least fifty years old, I had a dusty blue parakeet in it when I was very young. We had birds until Mom decided they were nasty. The mess did not fit her fastidious ways.

These short poems are all individuals. None of them is directly connected. Some were written at different times today. Some in my journal, some at the keyboard as I stood here in front of the screen. They are tanka, and of course, a lone haiku.

Some days hold torrents
In a loose embrace, then let
The sky-bound tears fall;
Sympathy for hearts broken
By losses too great to bear.


I could cage myself
Hide all the feelings away,
But emotions tend
To lead me often in life,
I am tender, edge of knife.


Secret reasons why
I keep trying to catch you
With a picture, line,
But you fast escape the ties
I might employ to bind you.


My heart breaks again
With an ache shot through and through;
The long loss of you.


I almost began
To hope for the future again,
But then I recalled
How the fires seared my skin
And things became ashes then.


Pieces together
Fit the pattern of quiet
Built on peaceful days
When all we needed, we found,
Within one another bound.

The rain came, bucketfuls at once, and walking the dogs was a waste of time. We only got soaked. I did walk awhile before alone with the Sony camera. It is nice to photograph whatever I decide.

I hope, as a prompt, you will create something lovely, and with love. All of us need more kindness, comfort, care.


This scene draws me in, and I am uncertain why. I think the stark lines may have something to do with it. Mysterious allure.

God Bless and Keep You and Yours.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan