Shuffling

Who am I? No one,
A dreamer with unfulfilled
Dreams, bursting the seams.


Tears threaten to throw,
All the plans, carefully made,
Into fading shade.


Capricious Elocution

I think I write
But sometimes it seems
The words write me,
Searching out my heart, soul,
Tearing me to shreds, making whole.
Words are precious existence,
Love distilled for meaning –
Making clear the gleaning
Of was, is, will be
In almost captured dreams;
Streams laden with hope –
Wild flames catching time
Setting sentences to rhyme,
Only tell, what is the line,
Am I it, or is it mine?

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Looking at how writing works, I often find that it is a mystery no matter how I study. I thought one day I would understand, but I suppose the state is unmeant for me.

The truth is I cannot put it aside even when I am confused by the gift. Writing is heart, soul, consolation for the pains and troubles. Forever Friend!

Haiku – Five

I.
The sun rises warm
As the tenderest embrace,
Lighting love shared sweet.

II.
Swift flows the current
Of true love’s passion unleashed,
Crows waiting on wire.

III.
The book, when borrowed,
Does not have fullest effect,
Mountains soar abroad.

IV.
What is seen is not
The most of all, everything,
Oceans fully course.

V.
Waves sweep over sand
Wearing away hardest rock,
Singing never stops.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

High Date

Today is my son Alex’s birthday. I hesitate to reveal his age because I am not old enough, but he is 33 years old today. If a child has ever been a blessing, Alex is one.

There are so many accomplishments he made of which I am proud. The thing most touching to my heart is that we are best friends.

Understandably I am spending time with him since he is local. It is the first time since 2006 we have been together on his day. So you will pardon me for a brief entry.

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I feel we play now
Off the staff, without clef, bars,
Improvisation.

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Tuning instruments
Preparing the score, once more,
In harmony, join.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Mixed Verses

This story of yours
Does much good for everyone
Who needing it comes.

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What we remember
Is the love, care, support we
Find in another;
Relationships matter much more
Than all we acquire or do.

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Sometimes what you name
Things carries much less meaning,
Than reality.

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When the shadow falls
A monster of bloody hands
Seizing every plan
Wresting hope from us, away,
Injuring with cuts, deeply,
Words rationed, kept back,
No mending, wounds keep bleeding,
Hidden depths, no light.

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Living in real-time
Is a challenge every day
Minutes go astray,
Even when trying these hours
The current causes swift drift.
Gauging the passage
Is only possible with
Instrumentation,
Because wild passions engage
Moments become variable.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

I wrote all these in bits in my journal. I like them, so I decided to share. Most are haiku or tanka, with some variants on those forms.