Hope to Give

I want to take you
To all the places you have
Never guessed or known,
Show you all the magic of
The simplest “I don’t know,”
Teach you how to find yourself
In the universe of love
Which pure passion has imparted.
Take your hand and lead you
To places happiness never departed,
Encourage you to live again without
The sting of being continuously haunted.
Everyone deserves a current love without fail,
Forever is not a crazy imaginary fairytale –
It can be coaxed, drawn, made wholesale.

Implications Poetical

It is tough to be a poet –
Subject to blame, complaints,
And yet, hard it is not,
Because poets have everything:
Hate, love; form, free; evil, good;
Lovely, ugly; all the words from
Every age, language, in attendance –
Dancing in creativity blessed brains
Ready to make entrance and appear
Marching lines upon the pristine page.
Do not lament the dejected lot
Of one whose choice is to be a poet
For a more nuanced definition can not
Come to pass than such blessed
Omen as to claim the identity
Of a writer of poetry.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

As a prompt, explore your creative outlet, do work that gives insight into its benefits and hazards. Share or not, as you like.

What can you do to incite your productivity? Consider doing this.

Gratitude List

I am thankful:

  1. Service at Ford fixed my Check Engine Light so it could pass emissions.
  2. I carried twenty bags of cans to the dumpster a ways away.
  3. I got the Explorer’s emissions done.
  4. I managed to finally navigate the tax site so tags are paid.
  5. I have been extremely productive in my creative output lately.

The Well Is Deep

Feed and Upkeep: The well within, where creativity and imagination reside, relies on consistent and varied tasks to maintain function and outpour.

Reading most any material will do. I have a love of novels, instructional volumes, Bibles, reference tomes. Still, poetry books, magazines, newspapers, biographies, old, outdated texts, and anything else that comes within my reach are beloved.

Music lifts my spirits and stitches up the tears that plague my soul. Without lyric, melody, and harmony, life would be dark and dull. I listen to virtually anything. I am always finding new favorites that tweak my ears.

Pens are an unquenchable delight. Switching to a different one can somehow spur an unusual stream of thought, freed from wherever it took flight.

Art supplies can move me to discover parts of me for which I never knew there existed a need.

Cards, journals, paper somehow seem full of beauties I search for when I am distracted. I often find a binding peace in words that flow like honey from the interiors I did not know were waiting.

Time with Tribble and Wookie, my extraordinary dogs, grounds me and helps relax my hyperactivity.

Driving can be a journey into spaces between my heartbeats. The heart of me responds to the motion and the emotion of the music that usually plays.

I have to be cautious, for funds are few, but shopping with the beauty of acquisition and variety of choice bubbles the well.

Costuming within the wardrobe I chose also has a pleasure that suits me.

I am highly productive with creativity, so I slake my thirst at the well continually. No one can build without quality materials. Taking time to restore our power is an essential portion of the creative function. I hope maybe you found some ideas. May you always find what you require before you come to know your need.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

What do you do to fill your well, or do you have other words for it? Can you increase your inflow so you have more product?

Do you have persons who encourage and inspire you to the point the well is filled?

Does conversation carry you to new constellations where you find true being?

Love Being

Ladies, gentlemen,
Others whoever you are,
I want to make clear
The fact you are beautiful
Just as you are no matter
What you accomplish, how
You survive in this present,
You are much more than enough.
Do not harm yourself with deep
Negativity, dear one;
Precious being of love.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan
September 1, 2019

I had this come up on my Facebook memories and thought it a worthy thing to share. I hope each of you knows you are the best who you are, and you are growing into who you will become.

Every day, every year, we are making progress toward who our purpose leads us to be.

Take care of yourself because you are a being the world needs; you have so much love and goodness to share. Never sell yourself short. Build on your strengths, talents, pleasures; you have such creativity. I see all of us reaching new highs, better growth. The opportunity is endless.


Hearts across forever
Dreaming of the times being
Together were ours;
How we never considered
Separation would break us.
Distant now apart,
There is no recapturing –
What we held, again,
We wonder how the moments
Could pass so quickly away.
How could we gain one
Another, then have it all
Stolen from our days?
Death a cruel stranger passing
Silently into dreams, we made.
Against this horrid taking
The cries arise at night
And with the day bright light,
No relief, no rest, no forgetfulness;
Only emptiness, dreadful space
Where our lives joined in
A multitude of beautiful ways.
Living now so shallow, constant shadow,
Where joy once kept the pain at bay.
Nevermore, nevermore, whatever
Hope remains, there must be readiness
To accept love’s willingness to invade
Reanimating the heart, dismissing the shade.
A moment, an hour, a day, time ever
Continues and life we must living partake
Love surrounds us for God never forsakes;
We, one another have, to inspire our
Ongoing from this present to futures
Our constant choices describe, make.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

The Quiet Run Riot

Sometimes the quiet
Must run riot, override
All the sounds of life;
Be the peace beyond every
Moment of busy being.

A deep-drawn breath takes
A blade from the overwhelm –
Eases harried nerves;
Embraces heart, mind, soul – whole
Imparting all the comfort needed.

Moving from action,
Reaction, to tranquility –
Where the ripple stills,
Rousing pleasure arises in
A gentle touch, sweet caress.

Whispered, “I Love You’s,”
Become the music of choice
As ecstasy floods
Every portion of the selves
Who in the silence, learn to be.

Breathing becomes art
As there is no space between
People learning how
To find one another inside
Who they wish might grow in love.

Still, sometimes quiet
Is the medicine to heal
The ails amassed in
All the frequent places where
There is no solace, silence.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan