Yellow Flowers

The quiet does not always
Speak its mind, but hides
What it guesses in another
Rhyme set among the grasses
Decorated by lovely dandelions
Whose heads are lopped off
By progressive mowers
Who winnow down and control
The growth of pesky weeds
So they may not encroach
On the uniformity of lawns.
The tenders are sanctioned
By the owners who see such
Service as a particular grace
Nature having to be restricted
Or it will capture all, everything,
In its fervid path of degeneracy.
Wildflowers though possessing
A subtle beauty are unwelcome
As opinions that rise unpopular
In a culture of conformity
Where most every sound, note,
Joins the harmonious refrain
Chosen by those who can afford
To pay the cost of player voices
Repeating carefully designed lines
Popularized over hemispheres
To keep the people in their places
Everywhere, all the time.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

2020.07.13 Dandelion for YF rr

Life For Life

A child in womb, life,
The reason to stand and fight,
A separation
Of purpose, but will to bear,
A child brought hopeful through fear.
Always devoted
Despite trials, battles, high costs
Give and give again
Because love is, does, happens,
Believes, continues, best makes.
Some days years later
When despair encroaches, sears
Body, mind leaving,
The child reaches out, calls to
Account, encourages life.
The realization
What is forged together can
Abide all hardship
Be a saving grace, carry
Forth the ones who will remain.
No other heart touches
The willingness to survive
Like one brought to life,
And unbreakably bonded
With endless familial love.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

As a prompt, create something that reflects the dynamic of a significant relationship.

I am struggling with myself over continuing this practice. It seems I have little influence or impact, and despite that usually being a millennial concern, it is mine too. I fail to know if I should keep putting in the effort. I am fighting my crisis mode of retracting from everything.

It has been good being here while it lasted. All the best to all of you. May God bless you with prosperity, good health, and your fondest desires.

2020.07.09 Weeds at Ramp rr

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

 

The Whisper That Shouts

When language preaches
A soul-rending sermon, soft,
Or words get dressed up
To woo and seduce another,
When voices sing of beauty
Or rhyme appears clear
To paint syllables of the sky,
When cursing seems well
Placed, aptly, and fairly done.
Poignant protests raise applause
Revealing there exist, heroes,
Needing appropriate speeches,
Or a tearfully sad story
To be honored and well-told,
When the crowds pay tribute
To those who amaze, astound.
If one jettisons planetary bonds
The left behind, raw, broken wide open
Recite laments to tidy seeping wounds,
When a newborn enterprise
Is begun with much courage and hope,
Or plain and simple
Cries must be made for progress,
If people who feel life
Differently must be given a voice.
Ordinary words cannot address
Every occasion pregnant with love
Or fraught with the lace of fear, doubt,
But call for the gift of poetry,
The whisper that shouts.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

2020.07.08 Converted Rose rr

As a prompt, exploring the meaning or purpose or love of poetry. Should you rather, explore whatever forms of creative expression you most enjoy.

 

 

Dystopia

I have this feeling
Creeping up from my cold feet
I am staring back

Creases on my brow
Keep growing with dull repeat
Of the news, I hear,
There is a revolution
I am caught in it, the retorts.

People falling down,
I will go without any
Pressure, lightly push.

Ice rink roundabout
Skates slipping on fuming tears
Not frozen, hot blood,
Lust, love, what is answering
The donkey or howling mutt?

The limelight can burn,
Like a flambeau set too close
Taking down the tent.

Nothing matters here,
Except I never ignore
Love is the reason;
Gunshots are just a symptom,
Of the virus, the malaise.

Love paints the portrait,
Rebels cut it down, rubbish,
The ashcan again.

Who I am, you are,
No invoice, no guarantee,
Ticket, play the game,
Sometimes it all runs aground,
No one tastes Heaven, a loss.

Still, racers will chase
Heavy lathered off the track
No turn, going back.

Every day a death
The dream left alone, uncaught,
Walking in deep snow
Left hanging over water,
Because one end is not enough.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

I found a Playlist that seemed to move me in a sorta way. Lots of Bowie in it, and he always turns my brain.

Maybe I will come back with something sweet. I hope you are well. If you like it here at Haphazard Creative, consider following the site, or returning as you will.

As a prompt, set up some music you seldom listen to, maybe from an earlier period, then let it lead you wherever you are taken. Create something.

2020.07.08 Stairs rr