Quantum Entanglement

You saw me right here
So did the stranger over there,
At the exact same time;
All without my knowing.
She said she knew me,
I said, “Are you certain?”
In Germany, for ten years,
As a teacher, while she was there.
“You must be mistaken, I was here.”
Her brows raised, “No, it was you,
I could never forget you.”
Not the first time, but disturbing.
I lost someone who believed
I was not truthful when
I tried to explain how disorienting
Were the encounters and my life
As I knew it, not coinciding.
I can see sometimes between
The woven ins and outs of
Our reality in ways others may not
Because my mind does differ.
Perhaps I step in between
Not consciously, but as
I can attest the mind is very adept
At functions beyond understanding
Of even the one experiencing.
People are vast, more complex,
Than can be readily intuited.
There is such a lot beyond what
We can begin to process
And only marginally comprehend,
As it was God’s right to intend.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

2020.08.11 Mom in Granny Dress rr

There are days when life sends shrapnel through my heart and tries to disintegrate my mind. Missing my Mom today is on that scale.

The poem was of a situation in Sam’s Club one day a while back. Before, we all became strangers in masks. It was not the first. The title comes from the spooky motion at a distance of entangled particles. If it can happen to particles, maybe it happens with humans. I do not know. I just know people tell me I was somewhere I was not from time to time and that they are confident it was me.

As a prompt, create something about an instance where you were told something about yourself that you cannot explain. Or, if you wish, make up a situation where you apply science to your life in an iffy way, and create something.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Not An Average Fan

I have been crazy about music all my life. My “Bud,” big brother, James, used to play his sweet blue and white guitar, which may have been a Fender, and I danced on the bed. This as a toddler, and maybe a bit beyond.

I am sure the harmonica my other brother, Melv, gave me, was in use almost enough to drive my parents to send me off for adoption. They gave in to my constant pleas for guitar lessons, and I spent about three years at that.

School had singing, the church had singing in choir. Mom, Dad, and I did an impromptu concert of gospel music almost every night. Of course, I used it as a way to stay out of bed whenever I could. We could go a couple of hours when I was really good at thinking of obscure titles.

I had an impressive collection of Disney albums, the original scores to many movies. My Fair Lady and Tennesse Ernie Ford were also in my collection.

I guess it was about 1972 that they got me a Kimball Swinger Oprea edition organ because I had outgrown the simple plastic one. Again, they were kind to allow me to practice because I am a volume menace.

My brothers left their 45s when they moved out, and I was introduced to rock mostly on a red portable turntable first in the attic, then in my room.

There were Country Music Concerts in parking lots, concerts included with my Six Flags season pass, and later concerts in Atlanta.

Vinyl, eight-tracks, cassettes, CDs, and streaming, I kept music always, and because I hate commercials, I have often avoided radio.

My favorite band is The Rolling Stones. I think over the time since I found them in 1981, I have owned the majority of their work and much of Mick’s solo work.

My son says I am an extreme fan of The Rolling Stones, and I guess he is right. I took him to his first concert to see them. It is funny to me that he thinks me so far gone.

This did not come out how I planned, but honestly, almost nothing I do does.

As a prompt, what is your musical history? Create something about it.

I got some sleep that was deep enough to be restorative. I am ignoring the pain.

Who cares about pain?
We all have it, such a shame,
Try to stuff it, pain.

*****

Take today under
Advisement, be open, beware,
Do not stare too close
At the presentation, be edgewise,
Try to share the beauty on show,
Do not let your reservations
Impair your ability to enjoy,
But remember there are depths
Not visible on the surface,
And you are a multidimensional
Creature in the process of being.

*****

Thank you for your visit here. You may follow Haphazard Creative, or come back when you will.

Many blessings to all of you.

Watch out, Monday is on its way, speeding down a surface street riddled with potholes that may aggravate its temper. Good luck to all of us with that.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

 

Literary Games

I became a reader and writer simultaneously at age three. I quickly began to employ color and text and illustration together. I found in poetry a heart like unto my own and have written it continuously. I guess my hope to be a publisher was born on my mother’s knees or perhaps in the floorboard of the Buick with the dash lighting shining down on my pages.

The dreams persist.

Reading is my favorite form of entertainment, with my rarely watching television. I usually steer away from series, but I have been drawn into a few lately. The idea is commendable, but the execution leaves much to be desired. I am one who becomes immersed in a book or books. It is most disappointing to be prepared for the continuation of a tale and find that it will be a year before you can learn the rest of the story. Not an easy acceptance for a poet who must complete a whole composition in the space of a page or a bit more.

Sometimes I will circumvent the imposition by waiting until all the volumes are complete to read them, but with current works, that is hardly possible. I lately did this with Tolkien’s masterpieces again. Someday I will open the shrink-wrap and dive into Stephen King’s Dark Tower series, I suppose. I begin to wonder about it because I have had those books over a decade. There is also The Game of Thrones, which I have in series and read two volumes from the library, but have yet to break the shrink-wrap on the collector’s edition.

Bibliophiles can be characters. My family tries to encourage me to dispense with some of my literary collection, and I blatantly refuse. I find my books are comforting, and the possibilities they contain, make me feel life is still an adventure. The missives from other minds are great consolation when the world becomes difficult.

I should think with fifty-four years at the vocation, I would have some idea of how to relate to readers, but I often wonder that others must be so unlike myself. Even so, I continue. I write every day and read a wide variety. I have thought l should make some provision to get out into the world and find some worthy subjects for photographic composition. I tend to be dull and remain close to home, which may not be the worst thing with a worldwide pandemic. My dogs and I are company and family.

The Vine Witch and The Glamourist by Luanne G. Smith have me wishing The Conjurer was not to be released next year. The Library of the Unwritten by A. J. Hackwith is another I am considering following up.

I wonder, those of you who are readers, what do you like? Are you a series person? Writers, have you been at the craft for years, or are you new with beginner mind?

World symmetry
Captured in quaint syllables,
An eagle on wing.

***************

Sheltering in place
The world no more freedom’s space,
Dreams are not contained.

***************

I see you, a smile,
Broad as day, deeper than night,
Come join in delight.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Life For Life

A child in womb, life,
The reason to stand and fight,
A separation
Of purpose, but will to bear,
A child brought hopeful through fear.
Always devoted
Despite trials, battles, high costs
Give and give again
Because love is, does, happens,
Believes, continues, best makes.
Some days years later
When despair encroaches, sears
Body, mind leaving,
The child reaches out, calls to
Account, encourages life.
The realization
What is forged together can
Abide all hardship
Be a saving grace, carry
Forth the ones who will remain.
No other heart touches
The willingness to survive
Like one brought to life,
And unbreakably bonded
With endless familial love.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

As a prompt, create something that reflects the dynamic of a significant relationship.

I am struggling with myself over continuing this practice. It seems I have little influence or impact, and despite that usually being a millennial concern, it is mine too. I fail to know if I should keep putting in the effort. I am fighting my crisis mode of retracting from everything.

It has been good being here while it lasted. All the best to all of you. May God bless you with prosperity, good health, and your fondest desires.

2020.07.09 Weeds at Ramp rr

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan