Not Being

I am not being today,
I am still human
Because I was born that way –
But being, I have not
The energy, inspiration, or heart
I cloak myself in gloom
And hide away cocooned.
I disappear best I can
Make no contact with humans,
Maybe I will burn out
Like the main over-loaded,
Or fade away like jeans
Worn and washed too
Often because they fit a way.
I cannot be; alone is too
Much for me, but there is
No one who wishes me
To see, speak, love
I am a left-over no longer
Fit to any appetite.
Life becomes a tune
Turned down, a whisper,
I cannot dance it right,
I continue, locked out the doors
So living is a complex device;
I am not being today.

Moods steal over me from time to time; I am okay, just aware. I guess it is incredibly revealing, but I am honest.

Prompt: Create something that reveals a portion of yourself often protected from view.

Beknownst

Time devours all things
In its forward mystery;
What it leaves behind
No one can wrestle from it
To alter, much less retrieve.

This time – a present –
Written upon every life
Turning the lush soil,
Allowing bountiful growth
Sharing LOVE in all moments.

Future hides its face,
Body pressing on drawn drapes
Breaking through the gaps,
Bringing breathtaking wonder
Beauty engulfing the spheres.

Each minute, hour, day
Is become, owned, shaped, written
For progress, helping
LOVE’s universality
Before nature fades away.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Prompt: As you read, pick out a concept and create something that expands the thought. Any form of art or wordsmithing is appropriate.

Five Tanka

Five lines written in the syllabic pattern of 5-7-5-7-7. Here I have five of them to be read, each, as a standalone. Prompt: If you like simplicity, you should try your hand at the form. Tanka are an excellent warm-up for any writing you wish.

Lost in and out of
Times relativity and
Space’s imposition.
Where can I wander without
Myself, who finds me yonder?

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You dance me around
Margins following the lines
Imagining we
Return to those moments when
We were one, reality.

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We thought we could learn
To live without each other,
But storms battered us
Until we came back calling
For the people we once were.

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Touch is mystery
Boldly original with
No filters, constructs;
It is always what is, no
Denying precedence, no.

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Love is like ice cream,
A tasty high calorie
Treat, providing energy,
Delighting all our senses,
Yet trickles away with ease.

Opening the Heart Door

Journal Page with Tanka, Poem, and Illustration
© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

There are times when showing how things germinate and become seem essential to share. The above is a journal page. I think we all need to know that however our process works, it is okay.

Creativity can be messy. It can also travel in lots of directions to get to an end, and even then, we may wonder what we have. Learning to trust ourselves in our media is why I feel working every day is most important. Even when insecurity and doubt assail us, doing what we love is a refuge and something we cannot give up.

Prompt: Share something you are working on creatively, even if you feel it is still rough around the edges.

Gratitude:
I got up today to sunshine and opportunity.
I found some cool guitar jams.
My workstation.
I have great tools.
Sodas.

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All work on Chronicles and Haphazard Creative are © Jo Ann J. A. Jordan. If you wish to share or use something I have created, please give credit and let me know so I can celebrate.

Caesurae

Salute to those
who have traveled
with me.
I hope you
enjoy whatever
journeys you
undertake.
Sometimes,
what we hope
never appears
and we fail
to understand.
I am quiet;
so be you
and find
your best true.

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I did my Creativity Project for about a year and a half on Chronicles and have done it about the same here.

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WORDs Worth

It all began with The Word,
And the life I live
Began with words, as well.
Nothing
I learned came without
Lettered meaning.

Each day, happily,
Brought more words,
Greater understanding.
It soon became my lot
To gather and arrange
Words
To transmit to others
What intelligence
Allotted me.

WordSmithing
Is not easy
And sometimes
The messages that found
Purchase in my mind
Had little validity
For others.

Still,
I honored what
Was given,
Set it down.

Words always –
Abound.

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The second poem here was a set of paragraphs in my journal today. Often my prose is poetic. Is yours? As a prompt, take something you have written in one form and transform it into another.