Was A Moment

Silence covered us
Holding us together, apart,
In space, time, open
To the music between
In keeping with unexpressed
Feelings labeled – undefined.

Nothing spoken, no touch,
Could move our share much;
All ladled like soup,
Into bowls flowing with steam
Passion below the surface
Squeezed with covers of wild dream.

Part and portions given, real,
Misunderstanding enough to feel,
Fully gratified, satisfied,
Betide passion and wanting
To enter whatever door disclosed
Shores where love reigns supreme.

A moment came which presented
The possible opportunity of knowing,
Choices appeared positive
But somehow, the mistakes made
Evaporated certainty like raindrops
Refracting from Summer pavement.

What was ours became ethereal
A band, solid but impermanent
As lightning across an azure sky,
Characters who played out
Emotions for which we never paid,
However, memories we cannot mislay.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Prompt: Create something relating to a past time invested with lots of emotion.

The day is closing.
Nothing terrible happened.
I figured out why my devices were not writing to SD cards.
It was warmer.
Memory can be a great escape.

Thank you for coming by. Comments, Likes, Shares, Suggestions are all requested if you have time and inclination. Ways to follow are in the sidebar. I hope you have fun on the downslide of the week. God bless.

All this is © Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

The Well, Prepared

Situation Playcation – © Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Writing is the thing that teaches us to understand the experience we cannot command or comprehend. Living is a riot, constant impressions, wild digressions, unbanished obsessions, mythic approximations, and passionate exhibitions.

Love is real, no poetic fairytale; it sometimes bites with destructive force. There are other times it breathes life back into a being near become a cold, bloodless corpse. Heedless, love carries headless need into ages where hearts aflame assuage the blame for falling again.

When what you most want
Remains beyond ability
You become adept
To fulfill some hopes and dreams.

I am not ideal
But being real is enough
For those loving me.

I have discovered
The wild child passionate self
Does exist still.

I could sing you blue,
Golden, or bright rainbow hues;
I would disappear
In the arrangement of notes,
Unrecognized within you.

Love plays, tackling us,
In fields where flowers obey
Injunctions to fade;
We are colors resisting
What makes delight history.

Prompt: Create something showing how writing or art rescue from the forgetfulness of greedy insanity.

No television to distract.

I am glad you found Haphazard Creative. In the sidebar, there are three methods to follow the site. Utilize one of those, or come back when your life allows. Any comments, likes, shares, suggestions, or thoughts are welcome. When you interact with creation, you impact lives.

Everything on Haphazard Creative is © Jo Ann J. A. Jordan.

Love In Tanka – Haiku

Pick an emotion and create from there. Any form or media is appropriate.

Friendly and Richard, best buddies.

Love has a way, and I am pliant.
My being able to do this each day.
Pens that write beautifully, even when I make mistakes.

Thank you for visiting Haphazard Creative. There are three ways to follow the site, plus my social accounts. Likes, shares, thoughts, suggestions, and comments are welcome and appreciated.

All Materials © Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Sand Through Hands

Time is running out
On the days given to spend,
Each moment nearer
The end, coming rapidly,
Choosing ways to remember.
Softly spoken words
Building structures of courage
Lifting toward joy,
A legacy of inspiration
Called from desperate foundations.
Changing destiny
With diligent effort, faith,
Convinced the broken
Can rise, remade in beauty
Becoming auspicious lives.
Never giving up
Though lonely shadows encroach
Finding starlight dusk
Choosing to reckon it good
As long as the wild heart beats.
Welcoming the love
Finally, given for passion,
Ardor lends life the spices
To encourage remaining
In the troublesome pursuit
Long after appetite loses
The power of motivation,
But revives over again,
Desire ravenous for fulfillment.

My Be Your Own Muse shirt and tablet.

Love is a strange thing;
Lifting to heights seldom climbed
Without its being.

He is not mine, no,
Just a dream I follow for
Today, tomorrow,
Tough times that I need someone
To keep me toeing the line.

I will not let you
See the tears track down my cheeks,
Though my heart does break,
All these people sleep, awake,
But cannot see how I ache.

Many works of art are hypothetical, only existing in imagination, but creators bring them into life. Make something antithetical to your reality.

Chocolate mint.
Dollar Tree.
Richard, in so many ways.
The Expanse.

If you got this far, I hope you enjoyed visiting Haphazard Creative. There are three options to follow the site in the sidebar and the social media icons. Frequent returns are also doable. Likes, shares, comments, and suggestions help me keep up with your tastes.

All Material © Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

100 Words, Plus 100, and 100 More

Choosing means taking one thing, losing another. It is impossible to follow both avenues at once. An attempt made to do the best for all parties may grow to be different than intended.

Such decisions might cause upheaval, and only in the doing can the consequences be known. Somewhere else, different, perhaps the other story unfolds with all the highs and lows, comes and goes, amends and sins, now and then.

Both paths exist, but only one reckoned a reality in the time currently seen. Walking the in-between, amongst the alternatives, is how a mind can become shattered. Open here.

My friend Raymond was an expert in what he called 100 Words. He did them every day in some years. This morning Ray left our sphere because of COVID. (This is another unreasoning blow) I never met him face to face, but he was a dear friend. We had arguments, discussions, shared moments, and differences of opinion. He was most often kind. I and others will miss him tremendously. My offering above is not nearly as polished as the thousands Ray did, but Ray was exceptionally gifted. I will remember him with smiles, laughter, respect, tears: always and forever.

I do not know what it is inside you that you hide deep, but I know, one day, should you let it go, it will help you have peace. 100 Words, or for fiction that comes complete – The Drabble, sometimes gives an opening into the heart and soul of what needs telling.

I play with language a lot. My optimal form seems to be poetry, but there are others at times. If we are creative, we can step across bridges from one river to another, from one time to several, finding, searching, knowing, hoping, having, losing, becoming, being.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan