The Dog Is Not…

The dog is not about the rain. Miserable brown oval lakes accuse me of cruelty. For the raindrops fall, she sudden stops, still and quaking, shakes from nose to tail. I am unwilling this walk to take, but duty tethers me. She cannot count the scents for cover of water; slick it leaves her empty. She tucks her tail, turns, trots me to the door. I warn her, in vivid terms, not to make a deposit in the floor, but does it go beyond her flying nun orifices for understanding? I doubt it; stubbornness is her template. She is that dog, glimpsed, my heart forsook reason, had to adopt, immediately. Love names her mine; pain asks me why? The dog is not about the rain.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

I guess this is a prose poem. I do them on occasion. Sometimes breaking lines is an inconvenience.

As a prompt, create something in a form you rarely use.

Bless You!

Wookie
© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Aligned

Old lions steady lope
Aware of things imagined
Unseen in high grass
They seem settled, but their minds
Know by heart, giving them speed,
Rousing understanding
Which youngsters lack.
Time-worn lions carry the weight
Of pride upon broad shoulders
Unwilling to abandon the hunt
Or leave the dangerous fight,
Protecting who and what belongs
Is reason enough for believing
And the choice to abide, thrive.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Moms

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

To every woman who has borne a child, to those who have offered hearts of love to children in need of tenderness, you have my undying gratitude and respect. More than anything else, those who nurture children are heroines of the super denomination. God bless every one.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Eligibility Indeed

Some said there was not
Any way it could work out
Too much at stake, about
A zillion ways to go wrong,
But hope stood by in support.
The ideas seemed solid, right,
No one could stop what began
Not one found, as an also-ran
No guarantees but love, delight,
Laser-lighted heart and mind.
Could it happen? Would it be?
Might the practice succeed?
Should impossibility thrive?
Naysayers did not a defense rally,
Many tried to end opportunity.
All hours, days, months, years
Progress delivered with salty tears,
Mistakes, failures, dead stops
Such negativity bore down a lot;
Somehow creativity survived, a poet
Poetry unleashed – becomes the poem.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Prompt: What is your experience of creativity? Is it always cheerful and pleasant, or does it sometimes come when it lifts your mind from depths of darkness? Create something juxtaposing the good and bad parts of your practice.