Wield Love

The world is sore, hurt,
Hearts are aching, some breaking,
There is a need, more;
A light to shine against darkness,
A love to restore hope, dreams,
A requirement here, now, to meet,
To wrap snug comforting arms
Around those who weep for peace.
We each are an answer for doubt,
Fear, pain, hurt damaging, deranging
Others, liken to who we are,
We give the hands, hearts, lives,
Provide at this moment
And wield loving care, ample goodness
For the benefit of every soul
Residing in this troubled world.
We are chosen, given faith,
To stand for love, sharing blessing,
Finding delight in the company
Of those presently escaping night.

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That is the last of what I have so far written. Maybe I will relax, but I do not count on it. When the words wish, they come. I cannot turn them away as if no one were home. Did I, I might later find they would stop. Yes, I have some superstitions about this gift, talent, that makes no sense being given to me. I let it have a place and time when it chooses. I think my life would be a desert without it.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Thankful

Gratefulness ensues
Because even in poverty
Of diminishment
There exists surfeit
Of blessings and no
Lack of need fulfilled.
Many gifts are present
To keep the self together,
Content with assortment,
Equal to abilities;
Examples provided
Regular exhibit.
Aware Christ inhabits
The world as assuredly
As these words proceed;
His provision is
A presence undeniable,
Praises rise to Him
Accrue, always, forever
For all is bestowed by
Bounty of His grace.

 

***

Writing rattles in
The shuttered windows of mind,
Begging them open.

***

I took a nap after these because I slept only three and a half hours overnight. Caught two hours.

***

As a prompt, if you are able, create something that denotes your experience of gratitude in life. What you are celebrating now, or perhaps how the quality has changed.

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© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

 

Position

We enter each day
Carrying our choices over,
Willing enough to
Sacrifice an unwritten
Freedom to bonds
We continue in restriction,
But
We can choose differently,
Choose love, opportunity,
Set what saddled us
Before, aside, becoming
No beasts of burden, laden,
Instead, people learning.
Adventure
Awaits when life is
Recognized as immensity,
Blessing, valuable treasure,
Appointed for joy, seeded
With inexhaustible possibility,
Delight
In loving one another
Gifts bestowed on each of us,
Creativity which ennobles
Our immeasurable spirit,
Life beyond the norm
Turning all present into
A beauty transcendent,
Inexpressible joy enfolds;
Celebration.

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© Jo Ann Joyce Anita Jordan

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