Celebrating

Today has been all about Richard and I am only going to take a few moments to say it has been a wonderful day.

I hope all of you are having a great beginning of the holiday season. Mine has been most enjoyable.

When you find your gift
You know sharing it is life,
Winter trees survive.

**********

Love invites us in
Warming us in our spirits,
The waves unshaded.

**********

Who will we be when
We realize love is all
Fit to be carried?

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan


BE…

Be the sun that shines,
The star that guides,
The heart that beats,
The focus that leads,
The example that feels,
The hand that reaches,
The soul that believes,
The one that lifts the fallen,
The mind that searches,
The question finding answers,
The brave that continues,
The failure that succeeds,
The intelligence in darkness,
The person for all people,
The hallelujah and amen,
The strength to begin again,
The one that helps overcome,
The ears that diligently listen,
The scholar that teaches,
The hands that build,
The one who can forgive,
The charitable to the needy,
The good that will not stop,
The music that mends minds,
The words that need speaking,
But most of all be
The LOVE that lights
Every corner of existence
And assists humanity.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Allusions

You know I am crazy.

This morning I was covered in goosebumps and asked him if he had a jacket I could wear. He went upstairs and brought me a sweatshirt.

I asked him if he had heard Barbara’s song off the Songbird album, “Honey, Can I Put On Your Clothes?” He is like a musical encyclopedia and can recite, well, you would not believe.

He said, “No.” So I sang it. Then he asked if I had a shirt like that. I said, not really. He said you can have that one.

Sometimes I am crazier than everything.

Pictograph

We’re not in love
No, no, no, we’re not,
He is still caught up
In memories of her;
I try to be someone
Freeing him for a time
From the constant grind
Of all the problems
He is called upon
To solve each second,
Of every single day.
He shares his tastes
In music, humor, art,
I learn sometimes
That I am not so strange
As I have often thought,
There is a contemporary
Person who gets
The boundless part of me.
He helps me with
My myriad problems
Encouraging me to
Continue in my efforts,
And our hugs help
Us deal with this time
Of social isolation;
But no, he is not in love
And says he never will.
I share him with a ghost
But somehow, that feels
Familiar, it is usually
Reversed – so I can deal
With it for now, and
Perhaps eventually
We will find a place
In one another’s orbit
That allows us to feel
What is already there
As something real.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Fragments Amended

I do much of my writing in my journal, and bits and pieces are often orphaned there. There is a lot of writing which never makes it to screen. It is not that it is inferior, just that I cannot put up too many pages.

Please, if you like what I do here, interact in some way. It helps make it more likely others might see the work.

As a prompt, go across your social media and react, engage with some of the creators you like or admire. Even just with your friends. Every like, every comment means a broader audience.

Give me one last kiss,
You will never see me cry,
I will fade away –
Goodbye – you have your life – days
Precious, set apart, without
Room or time for me.
I respect you so much, enough
To go before I am
Become a footnote written
On the pages every day.
I wish you all happiness,
With such love as you crave, deserve,
May you find in another
The heart of all the love you hope.


So much is riding
On strings of words which might not
Be spoken aloud,
Before the night falls alone
Blocking out the fragile hope
Giving a fingerhold, keeping
Love afloat, buoyed by faith.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

I try so to entertain, and yet sometimes I feel the investment is futile. The bounty I hope for may never bloom from Winter lying fields at Spring but be forever lost in frost.

Thank you for spending some time here, reading. Please be well and find the way here again.

Repurposed

He was sitting on
The curb
Along with the weekly
Bins of trash.
Why? I wondered,
Who put
Him there, under
The sweltering
Sun? Yet,
I was afraid to ask.
I leave the business
Of others,
As much as I can,
To them, alone.
However,
His smile seemed
A mystery, asking
Much of
Me and his eyes
Blazed an uncanny blue.
He spoke
Well and was inclined
To be my friend;
I guess
Those and others are
Reasons how I came
Now, ever,
To have a presence
In my home
To whom I may never
Ascertain who once
Did belong.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan