Moments Paid

A few things I lost
Along my wild rambling way
No permission did
Any seek, so none I gave,
Though parts now, I would recall.
The games our hearts play
Are often much uncertain,
Win one, another
Lose, as favor slips away
To leave arms open, empty.
Beauty questing fades,
With swift count, seasons turning,
But what exists deep
Within the pure soul, solid
As sweet joining bands of gold.
Music still remains
No force can forbid, steal what
Feelings it rouses,
A thrill long returning though
Presence, event, memory.
Lost, perhaps, but lived –
Free and candid, trusting love
To withstand each storm,
Taking time for sweet wonder
Passion’s rapt glory measured.
A few things I lost
Along my wild rambling way
No permission did
Any seek, so none I gave,
Though parts now, I would recall.

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© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Request

You are precious, smile,
The light fills your face anew,
I can feel your love
For all and everything,
Believing in miracles.

Nothing is hidden
Because you are open day
Sky alight, bright blue,
Pages wrote, simplicity,
The freest beauty to find.

I listen and know
There is no way to travel
All your places, see
Every face whom you have known;
Today, tomorrow, though, I go.

Holding you so dear
Letting you know love is with you
Every further step you take;
There is us now, together,
No more missions done alone.

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No, for those curious, (is anyone interested?) I do not have a love interest sudden come into my life. There is a long tradition of writing love poems (especially when spirits are in the dump), so I am listening to Air Supply’s All Out Of Love album and composing pale verses of my own. I saw them in concert in another lifetime, so it seems.

The Birds of Prey are from a field trip to Callaway Gardens. I forget, sometimes, that I do know my way around a camera.

I hope all is well with you. Do something for yourself that makes you smile, and bonus points, if you get someone else to laugh also.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Apologies To Allen et al.

You sudden, wake up,
To find the world is not all
Things you had in mind,
But still, life beckons much like
A closeted skeleton,
Reminding you, “Time
Waits For No One,” exacting
Its toll on bodies,
Minds, the frolics of each day
Fading quickly now away.
You hear a whisper,
“I Can’t Get No Satisfaction,”
While the tears run down
Your face without any trace
Of the deeds, you are obliged
To do in your hurry
To become who you will be
In the darn, “Who’s Who”
Directory, which you have
Always wished to discover
Some method, madness,
To propel yourself to fame
Which is not tinted
By the same “True Colors,” as
Everyone who makes
Good the journey, slowly begun,
In the paltry neighborhood
Where we each were born
With not one shiny penny
To launch us into
The stratosphere, you will know
Of which I mention because
The tarry residue clings
To the racy wardrobe amassed
Along the way to the present
From the seconds of yesterday.
You shout, “Failure is not an option,”
While looking over your shoulder
To see hungry wolves clawing
Their way minute by minute
Through the balsa door erected
In haste to shelter your dreams
From the awful extremes of envy,
The monster that turns friends
Against friends and makes lovers
Into the direst of enemies.
You are reminded never
To settle for less than the best,
While begging an agent to take
Chances on a story you could
Hardly tell because of impressions
Which impelled you to recognize
You sold your creativity
Off to a lower bidder without
Believing you had “The Right Stuff”
And “The Matrix” could not come
Together in “The Field of Dreams”
For we are all just prisoners here
Captured by the devices that
Will not allow us to enter paradise.
Still, now, do not succumb
To that black-feathered bird
Whispering above the door,
“Nevermore,” for it has no idea
The greatness lying awakened
Within the love-lorn heart beating
Tell-tale inside of you
For you sail with the angels
Across an endless sea into
Whatsoever, however, whenever
Will come to be your slice
Of “Supernatural” reality.
At last, there is no peace
In which to rest, because
Debtors have no recourse
But to pay, and pay again
And so must go on writing
Even ever and evermore.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

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Sometimes I play, like the child I once was, left alone for a moment on a snowy day, when nothing could longer destroy who I believed I might be, given an opportunity.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

 

 

Tunes – Rocking the Night Away

Hide Away – Mick Jagger
You Got Me Rocking – The Rolling Stones
Danger Zone – Kenny Loggins
Start Me Up – The Rolling Stones
Your Love Has Lifted Me Higher And Higher – Rita Coolidge
American Pie – Don McLean
Love Kills – Queen
Time Waits For No One – Freddie Mercury

My middle of the night coffee drinking list. Lost the sweatshirt for a tee-shirt with Randy Orton – Apex Predator on it. Coffee, with its caffeine and heat, percolates my blood.

All this because the house is lonely as the stone across the water on Tanyard Creek, Lake Allatoona when I was a mite younger than these days and could ski that inlet all day long.

Of course, earlier, I got the notice there were proofs to do, and I shall be getting to that eventually. Just now, I am thinking it is time for We Believe by Newsboys, which I have been saving until I cooled down from prancing like Rudolph when he discovered he was to lead the sleigh. Did you not know he danced? Bet ya he did, because he was an outcast promoted to the spotlight. Not that anyone would relate to that or anything. Not really.

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As a prompt, take a current event weave it with a past event, throw in some tunes and create a work to share. Any medium will do, that is all up to you.

This was to be an update on Facebook, but it morphed into something of a fuller body, so I brought it here. I am quite disillusioned with Facebook just now. There are times I contemplate leaving the whole thing behind awhile, but the time is not yet. It bores me, though, Facebook does.

The picture above was taken at Callaway Gardens. I should go visit again. I adore the place. For once, I would like to go when it is warmer so that the butterflies are more plentiful and active in the Butterfly House.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Thoughtful

I write from my heart
Hoping to touch another
Who might need insight
To better comprehend living
From the inside to the out.

&

When you deal with living things,
you cannot choose when they go
or when they stay. All you can
do is continually pray.

&

The soul of you
The soul of me
Are joined together
Until we shall choose
To come apart, go free,
But love, can you not see;
I want you forever with me.

&

Music is a communal experience, but even in live
performance, to no small degree, it is entirely personal.
We can listen to the same song and come to our
individually differentiated conclusions.

&

Intention to Devotion

Love is filtered through
Who we are in each moment
Experience determines
What we choose to risk, how, when,
And decides who we believe is
Worth the investment of our lives.

We are careful creatures knowing
Our hearts, minds, are not to be
Turned over too easily, so freely
We want to be treasured, held dear,
Because each of us is aware
Love is a potential weapon to maim and kill.

So we reach out gingerly
Watching for reaction, acceptance
Hoping our tenderness is returned,
But ready in seconds to run
If there is an indication we should
Retreat before the pain gets deep.

If we set ourselves open to let
Another in, we are directing
Our lives, real enough to love.

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© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan