Prose Poetry

Sitting in bed after midnight in those black hours where the lamp goldens the air, sometimes I find inspiration there. I turn to a pen and a journal because my mind I want to bare. A hand moving across paper laying down ink seems more connected to me than an electronic device manipulating ions.

However, when I bring it here, you freely see those mistakes I make. It is a bit scary, but I have never wanted much other than to be real. It is as I have almost always been before.

A discussion today involved imperfection being an element of our ideas of value in arts. Another was how freedom undiluted by opinion, especially in arts, allows us to be true to our ideals. So, I hope you like what I do, but I have to let my attachment to your opinion go. I know that is not popular, but it is how I must roll.

2020.01.09 - Prose Poem

I used the scanner today, the clarity seems much better than my phone. I am actually better with the more fundamental forms of technology.

If you only use devices now, as a prompt, try writing by hand. You do not have to share the handwriting, but see if your mental connection is different. You may find your production increases in freshness. Not being able to back up, erase, and edit can hold you to a standard that may be unfamiliar.

I edit better on-screen, but sometimes words line up in more musical ways when I write by hand.

I practiced handwriting extensively throughout my life. My writing hand, the right, is giving me some problems, I have arthritis, but I am keeping it active. Working very hard to retain my legibility so I can keep doing things like the above is essential.

I believe as we age, staying creatively active is a gift to help remain mentally agile. The small motor motions also help brains maintain robust neuronal, axonal, and dendrite activity.

I am thankful for the many blessings given to me. I am amazed at the gifts of which I partake in existing. I hope everyone can find beauty in their lives.

Be well, be you, chase your joy, create!

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

 

 

 

 

Creative Variety

Day Seven – 2020 Creativity Project

Wookie watching Wick

Wookie raptly watching a movie. Edited version.

I have been on the internet since 1991. Creatives are among my favorite people. A baseline normal between creatives, we are all original individuals. Our personalities, gifts, characteristics, styles, spirituality, beliefs, all those, and more make us unusual, and yet we are alike. There is a spark in the room when creatives meet. We chatter, and we immediately find something which we can relate to within one another.

Many of us are introverts, we will find ways to sequester ourselves in privacy. Though we can lay that aside long enough to perform something we believe in. Sometimes, this is almost too hard. What should we write, draw, paint, photograph, what tools use? Is art worthwhile? Is the meaning and connotation of a word correct? Is it perfect, or close enough, no one can see the seams, the erasures? The picture, should it have been edited, or was the original better? Will anyone read, will they care, will someone?

Uncertainty seems to come with the territory, but we can stand loud and proud when we feel we must. Our hearts are open, our minds malleable, our work forever with us. Dreams are waking us to grab tools of record in the dire hours of the night. We study, then find it not enough, and explore more.

When the curtain draws down, we will be begging long enough to get the current work complete. Dame Death can wait…

Maybe I exaggerate, I am a poet who writes stories, essays, and attempts books. I do these Creativity Projects that tax me beyond belief. I believe in making myself work because if I do not commit, I might crawl into a cavern and secret myself away. Figuratively speaking darlings, if I had a cavern, we would have sleepovers on crisp nights.

I did poems today, but I am not satisfied with any of them, then when am I confident of the writing I do? I think it is why I read so much. I can twine my mind in someone else’s creation. Anyway, you are warned.

Down, Upsideways

Touched by the feather
Of a snowy dove named love
My soul reaches up
Toward Heaven way above
Then stretches out and abroad.

I inhale the breeze
Breathing out weighty worry;
Then again process,
Exhaling stores of kindness and joy
Praying health, happiness, prosperity to all.

I hope good fortune
Will find ample opportunity in many lives;
People who shall discover
Grace as comfort always
And fullness of faith as a living fire.

SWAP

Can I be you now?
I know I should not ask,
But you seem self-assured,
Only for today, until
The time day goes undercover
Where we can dream mysteries
We might never encounter if
Our lives did not intersect,
Combine, entwine, meld,
Like no one knows but we
In on the secrets only we two may
Comprehend, understand;
How will our hearts ever beat
Quite the same as prior, after
Sharing who we really are?
Do you realize how precious,
Surpassing grand are the gifts
You within yourself do own?
We might be explorers, ah, home.

Perpetually

Let us live forever
Remembered by generations
Whose opportunity to know
Us is only in the creations
We leave behind in time.
What we share with others
What we release from within,
Those  bits and pieces of thought
Captured in any set form
Can transmit over eras
Perhaps helping someone grow
Into a person better suited
To survive whatever may
Become their experience
In living a maximum life.

I hope you found something of worth, I have not felt like I could do this today. The Quits have set in. You know that saying, “You should not be doing this. It is not any good. Give up.” Yeah, my brain has not yet learned, “Never Give Up!” is stronger. Anyway, thank you for visiting. If you wish there is a follow button, or come back when you like.

All the best to you, and keep reaching for your goals, I believe in you. I thank God this marvelous tool brings us together. I hope I did not go over long today. Sometimes, if you knew, I have lots to share.

Wookie watching television, movie. Less edited version.

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© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Resistance Overcome

Day Six – 2020 Creativity Project 

I do not believe in the concept of creative block, which includes Writer’s BlockI think we are capable of constant creative output, not, however, that all of it is fit for public consumption.

I keep a planner with brief notes most days, a gratitude journal frequently, a brain dump journal much of the time, and I write more creatively a lot. Today is day six, the resistance has unearthed itself and come to stand like a Spartan, with shield ready to repel me. “You SHALL NOT pass!” Yeah, um, that will not work. I, tentatively, committed to be here and do this, so it is happening.

Thing is I do not often know what to write. I could call it a block, but really it is not. It is usually that I have enough ideas flying around like kamikazes; eventually, I will find one to rescue. Ever tried to talk a suicidal idea into allowing you to work with it? It can be a bit of a challenge. A tribe of screaming banshees jump up, down, yelling, “Why in tarnation are you doing this, it is too much. Quit, quit, quit already. Why torture yourself.” Take a chill pill and climb aboard cause this train is gaining momentum, and negative hoodlums are not in the engine compartment.

If I hit a boulder too large to push out of the way, there are means. I am not afraid to employ dynamite, but it requires strategic planning. I will take note of the obstacle, then I will step away and make preparations. I may read, especially creativity, writing, or art instruction books. I am also apt to write sheer junk, where I give license to my critic and all its cronies in negativity, to spew. I write the crap down to clear my head. Afterward, I say, “Enough, shut TF up!” I pulverize the boulder, and I do what I do, which is create.

I am guessing most creatives face similar challenges, you may not use the same images to objectify what goes on, but you probably have your things. I am well acquainted with resistance. Creativity is not effortless, or everyone would be writing bestsellers, painting art to rival the Sistine Chapel, making blockbuster movies to vie with Star Wars, or creating software to supplant Windows and Apple OS. Though some of us are achieving, many never get out of the gate.

Kudos to you when you keep on long enough to make something out of thin air. The world needs your ideas, creations, methods, support, determination. People need to know that giving up, cashing out, leaving the stage is not an option. Life is difficult, but when we open our imaginative minds, we bring new concepts, stories, creations to life. We find the hope we and others need and the love to survive in the desolation.

Be well, create, love like it is your only chance, dream, and make dreams real. Make resistance reach for the sky and cartwheel by it, leaving it to wonder who you are and where you are bound. You are chosen for this time, place, position, do what you are meant for, and do it with passion. The more love you expend, the more you will have to give, and the more will come to you. Be a creator and make 2020 your year, if you do not believe in you, someone else will go in your place doing it half as well.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

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Ccchhhaannggees…

My son, Alex, who is an adult, has been visiting since mid-December, except for some weekends he went to visit others. He is making a move back here to Georgia from out West.

Things are different when your child is an adult, it seems I get corrected more than ever. It is bearable, well, we are still speaking to one another.

One thing we had discussed accomplishing while he was here with me was dealing with all the things Mom left behind and other clutter I am so adept at accumulating. Picture border-line hoarder, here. I collect things and collect things and more things. I can admit I run amok.

We got Mom’s room under enough control that he can sleep back there, and we carried off an Explorer load of clothes to GoodWill. There is still so much.

If you are a person like me or are dealing with someone like me, strap on your patience good and tight and stay hydrated. This declutter crap is harrowing and no wimps need apply. I can only take it in spurts and even then I have rip-roaring headaches. Most things he sees as just junk, I know all the history about and could spend significant time explaining. Yeah, cue the Eagles, “Get Over It!”

I worked part of the kitchen today. It has not been a blue-ribbon day. I did make admirable progress in my estimation, clearing some counters, moving things, rearranging others. The really dismal thing is I am not a fast person, I am meticulous. Not exactly the best trait when trying to throw away a lifetime of collected stuff (for you enlightened beings, that probably translates as JUNK.)

Dishes that are of the original or close to that pattern of Corelleware can probably leave. The stuff Mom brought home from yard sales that I wished she had never seen, those go too. Where did all these margarine tubs and lids come from? Mom never met one she did not like. The bowls with all the pretty colors and patterns, we are not doing so good over. Ever heard, “I might need it someday?”

The worst of it is he wants me to get rid of some books. To say I am attached to ALL my books would not be overstating my situation.

Anyway, I think I raised a drill sergeant in disguise, recruiter duty did that set of pipes no justice, none at all.

He is working on his novel when I am not on his radar for repudiation. I am working on this when I can get to it. I need to HideAway as Mick Jagger sings about so well.

Things are looking better. I have to admit that, just the process is so painful I would like to get the heck out of dodge.

I hope all of you are meeting your goals, beginning 2020 right. I have high expectations for everything we can accomplish in the coming weeks. Life is such a blessing and flees from us so soon. Every day is precious and we should spend our time improving lives with love and being who we wish.

A river running
Throughout space and time, all us
Loving, living, wise.
As a prompt, look at the poem above. It is my favorite type of poem, a Haiku. It is syllabic, where you count syllables, first-line – five syllables, second-line – seven syllables, final line – five syllables. Write some of your own, they are excellent creativity warm-up exercises.

Gratitude is a balm to the soul. If you will regularly make lists of the things for which you are thankful more happiness and blessings will find you.

I am grateful:

  1.  It was not raining so much today.
  2.  I made progress in the kitchen.
  3.  I have adequate medications.
  4.  My son is visiting.
  5.  I came into this year without being alone.

Thank you for the time you have taken to visit Haphazard Creative. I hope you found something to inspire, entertain, or just make you think. There is a follow button or come back at your whim. God Bless You and Yours, Always!

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

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Nobody, But You, Now

Day Four – 2020 Creativity Project 

We have the present, we look forward to the future, but unfortunately, sometimes we allow ourselves to view time and living through the lens of the past. This often robs us of opportunity and causes us to limit ourselves to patterns that do not serve us.

If we invest all our effort in the things before us, letting go of attitudes and habits which restrict our horizons, we live fully and vividly alive.

Let us encourage one another to don our best selves each day and create lives where we are the heroes and heroines we wish to encounter. If we do not step up, there is a possibility that no one will.

Little things that may make a difference: Holding a door for someone with more than hands full; separating items for recycling; reading stories to calm children down; writing notes to people who receive insufficient recognition. Sharing inspirational articles or original thoughts; recommending suitable reading materials; singing to lift spirits. Speaking affirmative words to others and helping someone with onerous chores. Probably those are enough to get brains in gear.

We may sometimes feel insignificant, but our lives have purpose and meaning. God creates no junk, so each of us is precious. Little things, small words, gentleness can lead to change in the world. When we are kind, we are wearing our super-suits, because much in the world is hard and kindness makes life more bearable.

Everyone is important, everyone has something to contribute that no one else can provide. When we share love, we tear fissures in the vulgar meanness that permeates so many days. Sometimes we erase the shadows entirely and beauty unimaginable blooms.

Be a hero, you are, and now the world needs you. If you turn away, who will follow your example and live a less useful life going forward? Someone, you may never realize, is watching, you are their star. Be a positive world-changing influence; it is who you were meant to be.

Nobody, But You, Now!

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

2016-11-19 Unfolding Rose