Category: Originality

Winter – Spring

How the cold now reigns
Like desolate destiny
Over everything
Frost gathering a pale cape
Over barest trees and fields.
My heart remembers
Retains the brilliance, soft warmth
Of returning Spring,
With hope – perhaps love it brings
To win hearts, human being.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

The poem is made of two tanka conjoined—one of those playthings I love more than Wookie does the kept-away ball. I share, Wookie, not so much.

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100 Words, Plus 100, and 100 More

Choosing means taking one thing, losing another. It is impossible to follow both avenues at once. An attempt made to do the best for all parties may grow to be different than intended.

Such decisions might cause upheaval, and only in the doing can the consequences be known. Somewhere else, different, perhaps the other story unfolds with all the highs and lows, comes and goes, amends and sins, now and then.

Both paths exist, but only one reckoned a reality in the time currently seen. Walking the in-between, amongst the alternatives, is how a mind can become shattered. Open here.

My friend Raymond was an expert in what he called 100 Words. He did them every day in some years. This morning Ray left our sphere because of COVID. (This is another unreasoning blow) I never met him face to face, but he was a dear friend. We had arguments, discussions, shared moments, and differences of opinion. He was most often kind. I and others will miss him tremendously. My offering above is not nearly as polished as the thousands Ray did, but Ray was exceptionally gifted. I will remember him with smiles, laughter, respect, tears: always and forever.

I do not know what it is inside you that you hide deep, but I know, one day, should you let it go, it will help you have peace. 100 Words, or for fiction that comes complete – The Drabble, sometimes gives an opening into the heart and soul of what needs telling.

I play with language a lot. My optimal form seems to be poetry, but there are others at times. If we are creative, we can step across bridges from one river to another, from one time to several, finding, searching, knowing, hoping, having, losing, becoming, being.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

A Gratitude List (Long Overdue)

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

I have not done this in a while. I would have posted it as I wrote it in my journal, longhand, but I made a mistake. You need not see such a thing.

I am grateful:

For every day given me, each today.
I can read, learning stories told by varied minds.
I can write, encourage, inspire, illuminate, touch the lives of others.
Even with its aches, pains, infirmities, my body is a wonderful gift to me.
I have a storehouse of words I gathered over time, in varied places, and the skill to employ them.
My family and friends are precious and help shape me into the being I am meant to be.
God is real, present to me, at all times.
My home, the shelter protecting me from the elements and containing my things.
Technology helps open the world to me in creative ways.
I am growing, becoming, and even though it is a mystery, I believe that the future will be bright.

Prompt: Write your gratitude list. You may do it as you will, with embellishments that please you, or without any.

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Be of good cheer; God is near. He will never forsake you, for He has plans of prosperity, protection, and unlimited blessing to pour into your life. This season of toil and trial shall not forever last.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Whilst Sighing

The sun – becomes, above Earth,
Day begins, continues, ends –
As the black of night zips
Over what was, is, can be.
The unchosen, never free,
Caught in fertile beds of futility
Given fulgurant gifts all gladly
Forsaken for opportune normality.
The pain of difference assures
No one, not even those beloved,
Who try, can abide the dysfunction
In every shared moment, evinced.
The production frequent as dandelions
May appear effulgent and glistering,
Yet within mortality harbor shades
Of night, fervent prayer to be light.
They go, they go, whomever, no one
To claim, left desolate, alone –
A song echoes, a melody, tender,
Raising harmonies of incongruous hope.
As blood still flows and thought goes
There is, in essence, no doubt, no dying
Of reason, no treason fomented, to
Dispel the willing drive, Never Give Up!

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

It is Christmas Eve; I feel more like A Christmas Carol than Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. I hope the sum of your joy is more significant than my own.

I have an older friend struggling in a fight against Covid. If you would, say a prayer or send a thought for him.

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As a prompt, create something that shows the depth of your being, then finish with the direct opposite. You may achieve this in any media you aspire to use.

Christmas Eve has always been my celebration of the holiday. I was the kid who would not sleep waiting on presents under the tree. So I am trying to find a little heart and soul.