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.

Tiny Tidy Bits

Sadness – written in
Shades of shadow, black and gray,
No way to escape

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The music plays, songs
To lift weary hearts, giving
Hope enough to live.

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Profuse the lilies
Blooms coloring everything
With smiles, happiness.

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Borrow the chatter
Of the squirrels chasing round
A filled bird feeder,
You might find greater delight
Than sitting alone tonight.

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Someone left the doors –
Wide-open to delight my heart,
Love, smooth, sauntered in.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

These are my brand of haiku and tanka. I always have fun with counted syllables. Sometimes, the truth will take a chunk out of you when you work with these because being constrained seems to give the mind some ease with content.

Prompt: If you feel inclined, write some haiku and tanka of your own.

Gratitude:
My appointment on Monday went exceptionally well.
I am reading some great books.
I went to Aldi and got some food.
Having my little piece of real estate on the internet.
I keep trying even when I am discouraged.

If you enjoy the content you find here, please give feedback by likes, comments, follows. I appreciate each one more than you know.

Have an excellent downhill slide to the weekend. God bless and keep you always.

Counted Syllabics

Knowledge is, is not
Secure enough for full trust,
Hidden remains, much.

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Strange, strange, and stranger
The games we all join and play
To avoid boredom.

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Finding it again
An unlikely happening
Still, we keep dreaming.

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There exist moments
Of which none possess knowledge
Even those present.

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Where did we find it?
How were we bound around it?
Why does it exist?
Though it guards it jealously –
Perhaps love knows the answer.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Prompt: I played with Haiku and a Tanka here. Should you wish, do some of your own.

Gratitude:
After days of shortage, I finally slept.
The gift of writing.
The gift of reading.
The presence of my dogs.
The luxury of time alone.

Be New

The past is a melody,
No longer known;
The words are gone
Lost in yesterdays.
The love carried
Lives within fond hearts,
But pains have no part,
In future choices made.
Free to be today
Who exists this moment;
No living in fear, shame
Of the hurt, mistakes before.
The gift of creativity
Changes the things
Learned through faith
Into treasures carried on.
Love builds up beauty,
More than ever dreamed,
Freeing hearts to reach
Sudden aspirations and truths.
The broken, stolen things
Fade away as strengths gain
Each, every day, in all ways.
Better than before,
The best is wholly possible,
Because the things ended
Were in depths laid to rest,
Forward, pass, conquer the test.
The past is a song
Others may continue
But it no longer defines
Who a person becomes.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Haiku
The taste of what may
Come to be, draws the farmer –
To plant, tend, the seed.

Prompt: If you write in the personal particular, take one of those works and turn it global, so it applies to others.

Thankfulness:
Today was a mostly quiet day.
I found a new channel on YouTube Music.
Chocolate.
I woke from my horrid dream and finally calmed down.
Pizza.

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