Category: Poetry

Late Entry

Adventures with my fountain pen continue. It came apart again, and I could not get the nib out of the lid. I got some help, and it now works for the time being—what an experience.

Do you use tools that complicate creative endeavors? Do you have a story?

Haiku, anyone? Write some. Here are two of mine.

Dreams begging to come
True, all depend on you, me,
To make them our own.

What we most desire
Is never beyond our reach
If we chase it down.

I have a few prompts that maybe will get you primed for creation:

If you were warned about 2020 in 2019 or before, what would you have done differently?

If fire threatens your home, which ten items would you most want to take with you, your family, and pets? Someone I asked said ten rooms, which is extremely clever. I meant items.

If you are in the US, what is your plan if those you wish to win the election do win? If not?

I am trying to focus on creativity a bit more; I hope that it is attractive and encourages you to work.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Conjoined Tanka (Two)

With my someone, but
He is not mine; it takes time
To grieve deepest loss,
But we were friends, and remain
Inspiration to go on.
I did not quite grasp
How much being apart was
Costing my mental
Peace until we hugged and talked
And again, I felt comfort.

********

We never know who
We are until we reach out
For someone else who
Becomes no longer other
But reveals the inner us.
Love gives us ourselves,
In Technicolor blended
Until we are clear,
Reflections combined, then,
Rendered in reality.

As a prompt, create something that shows a strong emotion in you are experiencing in your life.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Close Enough

The rain falls down
Your hand in my pocket, warm,
Somehow we have to
Get ourselves out of the storm,
The umbrella comes between
The closeness that should
Forever be you and me.

It is not our grandparent’s
Wonderful life, we must be careful
Round here, to succeed, to survive.

Fires, they rage, so wild,
Out of control, gotta set up –
Some smoke control,
Breathing gets harder, exerts,
Until it almost sets up hurt,
Clouds on the horizon, but no,
It is the fire’s dark exhaust.

It is not our grandparent’s
Wonderful life, we must be careful
Round here, to succeed, to survive.

Screaming fills in the streets
One says this; another speaks that,
Someone with matches, pyromaniac fun,
The other has a gun in a pocket, heat,
That one has a knife in a boot, treat,
Control fled, no one knows how to live
Everyone is subject to being dead.

It is not our grandparent’s
Wonderful life, we must be careful
Round here, to succeed, to survive.

Your hand in my pocket,
Please do not let me go,
This world is a desolation,
Join me in the isolation
Check the windows, the doors,
No ingress for strangers
Can we now possibly afford.

It is not our grandparent’s
Wonderful life, we must be careful
Round here, to succeed, to survive.

Who have we finally become
Who cannot communicate,
Cannot show respect enough
To avoid a world that deteriorates?
Where did the love go, tell me,
We are all in this together,
If not, we will likely all fall.

It is not our grandparent’s
Wonderful life, we must be careful
Round here, to succeed, to survive.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan