Murderous?

Why step on the bug,
Out here on the sidewalk paved
With the intention
Of leading us place to place –
No obstacles in our way?

The bug is minute,
It barely forces a step
Aside the margin
Leaving the path to follow –
If we are daring enough.

Why is the bug here?
Is the memory hidden,
Of the fear once known,
When the world was wilderness –
With doubt explored, overcome?

How are we now grown,
That the innocent insect
Raises our instinct
To kill, destroy, and conquer –
When victorious – we are?

Found superior,
How are we very challenged
By creatures beyond
Our overwhelming control –
Are we from nature estranged?

The bug is wonder –
For it continues, exists,
Outside reckoning
To eliminate its life –
Clinging loosely, it persists.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Prompt: Reach for a subject that touches you differently.

These Particulars

The chasm between
Depression and living
Can be a world
Where
Every heartbeat
Measures a step
Forward or behind.
There
Is no catching up
Only characters speaking
Lines unrehearsed;
Smiles
Borrowed from clowns
Who laugh upon call
Of immense misfortune.
Unseen
The stars wield
Bright, unfiltered light
Yet denied sight, hope
Sky
Naked, lost, love departed,
But reaching again
Capturing through will
Enough
To rearrange depression
Reclaim hope, dreams,
Love, in particular, completion.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Prompt: Pick an emotional state you are dealing with and create something focused on your feelings and actions.

The Dog Is Not…

The dog is not about the rain. Miserable brown oval lakes accuse me of cruelty. For the raindrops fall, she sudden stops, still and quaking, shakes from nose to tail. I am unwilling this walk to take, but duty tethers me. She cannot count the scents for cover of water; slick it leaves her empty. She tucks her tail, turns, trots me to the door. I warn her, in vivid terms, not to make a deposit in the floor, but does it go beyond her flying nun orifices for understanding? I doubt it; stubbornness is her template. She is that dog, glimpsed, my heart forsook reason, had to adopt, immediately. Love names her mine; pain asks me why? The dog is not about the rain.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

I guess this is a prose poem. I do them on occasion. Sometimes breaking lines is an inconvenience.

As a prompt, create something in a form you rarely use.

Bless You!

Wookie
© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Eligibility Indeed

Some said there was not
Any way it could work out
Too much at stake, about
A zillion ways to go wrong,
But hope stood by in support.
The ideas seemed solid, right,
No one could stop what began
Not one found, as an also-ran
No guarantees but love, delight,
Laser-lighted heart and mind.
Could it happen? Would it be?
Might the practice succeed?
Should impossibility thrive?
Naysayers did not a defense rally,
Many tried to end opportunity.
All hours, days, months, years
Progress delivered with salty tears,
Mistakes, failures, dead stops
Such negativity bore down a lot;
Somehow creativity survived, a poet
Poetry unleashed – becomes the poem.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Prompt: What is your experience of creativity? Is it always cheerful and pleasant, or does it sometimes come when it lifts your mind from depths of darkness? Create something juxtaposing the good and bad parts of your practice.