Interesting Times

When words buckle beneath the pressure to flow, all I know is to let go. I have not found a magic token to purchase creativity’s flow.

I kept hoping that my Facebook account would be reinstated, but it appears I lost it permanently on August 5th. It is sad. Friends have told me I should make a new account, but I think if they take mine, I can not begin again.

Maui, Wookie, and Tribble

I am dog sitting Maui for Alex while he is in transition to a more permanent home. You might notice Tribble is least concerned and going her way.

I am not quite sure how I forgot in my troubleshooting to unplug the device, but I called Amazon for help. I felt about as dumb as ever.

The Samsung A32 is working far above my expectations. I love using my phone again.

Having a refrigerator is a blast. Almost three months without one, I am so glad that is over.

I am using Twitter a bit. My Facebook friends are not all on there, but it is okay.

Writing is an exploration of thoughts that come to mind when we march words onto the page. The war begins when we force them into intense sense by editing such that we bleed grammar and style.

Happy Labor Day! I hope you have time to enjoy a break.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

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!

Again Then

Time does not come
Tied-up
In pretty ribbons
Red and Blue,
More evidently
Purple –
Green of a stubborn
Bruise,
An ebony night, or
Sun bright raging
Thirsty day
When
That is, the harrowing
Cold is
Out of season.

Prizes
Are rare and never
Given for participation,
No,
Those gains only come
With blood, sweat, pain –
Paid
Perhaps by generations
Who strive to keep
Love, faith, effort alive;
Tears,
Prayers over many years
Are not just present,
The future
Is also their target;

Entreating God
His mercy, grace to
Unleash
That survivors remain
Christ’s love to proclaim –
Overcoming
Overwhelming dangers, trials,
Through the continual
Outworking of individual salvation.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan