The Best Time to Start

Entry Ten – 2023 Creativity Project

Photography – © Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

You know when you go to place an order on Amazon, and you realize you want THE ITEM placed in your presence immediately, only yesterday. This sort of occurrence happens to, I suppose, everyone at one time or another.

Happening is evermore infinite, occurring in place and time – past, present, and future.

There is, somewhere, something, an intangibility to our reality, which is almost always on the edge of what we grasp. Maybe poets are extraordinarily aware that reaching the ethereal is an opportune possibility. Of Creativity, perhaps Poetry sits on a plane, sphere, somewhat of its own making. The visions conjured in a way incomprehensible and unique but calling out to be written. A wordly wizardry juggled like bubbles blown by a unicorn.

Nothing is impossible because everything is variable. Artistry caught on a cellphone like a castle composed of air articulated by An Agent of Spiralling Chaos captured on a string not quite relative in theory.

Like this scrap from long ago:

Somewhere on the edge of tomorrow,
Somewhere  on the verge of yesterday,
Somewhere in the past, we don’t remember,
Somewhere not of Earth, far away.

Somewhere there are songs we were singing,
Somewhere there are rhymes that we made,
Somewhere on the edge of tomorrow,
Somewhere on the verge of yesterday.

The verses are like a found artifact that never entirely becomes but is nonetheless something recognizable.

Ah, what teenage girls dream in quickly vanishing moments. Something of beauty not to be caught in amber. Yet, now existent in the material, making meaning to sentient beings doing what we glean as living.

PROMPT: Use some found article in your environment as a catalyst for creation. You are a creature able to manifest greatness.

Gratitude:

1. Possibility
2. Opportunity
3. Creativity
4. Agency
5. Imagination

My fondest thanks for your presence here today. May something have enlightening potential for you. If it suits your fancy comment, follow, like, and share with others who you believe might realize some compatibility with the compositions and complications here.

May living enrich your being infinitely. Blessed be in each exploration, momentarily.

Always & Ever,
Jo Ann

Rise Up

Inspiration Comes

It was a tearful day, like any number of other days. The losses weighed, and regret played, but somehow, something, somewhere, changed. It was as if a door opened, and a bit of hope took root in a heart for whom so many dreams had become moot.

The rescue climbed up, licked away a speckling of tears, and gave a look that conveyed, ‘You saved me; it is why I am here, and for that, I give you what comfort exists in me.’

There was a miracle wrapped in the space between those two, born of Love, fragile but true.

Whenever, wherever compassionate, kind, passionate hearts, even across species, or perhaps especially so, meet, Love is fully unleashed, and new dreams, music, stories, and worlds grow to bless lives as onward, outward the sweet generosity of spirit, souls goes.

Every time someone, whether human or other living feeling being, reaches across the chasm of indifference and tries to impact life positively, Love can take hold and change the fabric of reality through the miracle of creativity.

A heart broken by missteps, mistakes, trials, and troubles can learn to trust, take a chance and embrace life, Love, and fully live again.

Each of us is to others a blessing, a gift, a magic, a miracle who lives to present an opportunity to become most precious in one another’s lives. We are our helpers, keepers, and inspirations for greater and greater greatness.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan
Monday, November 7, 2022

Beginning Maybe

A Design for Me

It is yesterday’s news, but you might read it some distant tomorrow, never knowing the when of it all. It fell apart again, but no one knew the signs; they were too busy in their lives of satisfactory rhyme.

The dregs in the pot that provided the coffee could perhaps illuminate, but by then, it was probably too late. Broken hearts litter the ground where discordant words often find their sound.

A whisper of waking to the morning linen gives hope, but the bed contains only one body, insufficient for an incident of joy.

Tomorrow is the predicate of yesterday, but today wends away. Fortune is no lasting friend but slips off with a passing wind. One seldom remembers but never forgets a love vanishing to purchase what survives beyond regret.

Familiar, those bonds forged over a bundle of years breaking down into stifled tears disallowed to tumble from wary eyes. No one left to ensure feeling together thrives.

©Jo Ann J. A. Jordan
Friday, October 28, 2022

Storm

I am not who I might be if life were a different reality. I walk between this and that, here and there, time and forever. I get lost because there is never enough of my giving to soothe the souls I disturb. I would love, Love, love, but am a nuisance, a bygone heart ripped apart. Whoever, I am meant to be is twisted and confused within me and without any security. So, blame, blame the rain that falls October from these troubled eyes. An Agent of Spiraling Chaos, may be the truth , there, though I cannot see, thinking Haphazard Creative more truly me.

I am hoping and hiding, an original, tortured by rank facsimiles. No, no, you misread my disposition candidly.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Acclaim

God heals, holds, enfolds
Us in His Love unending
We are His children,
Bought, the price, Christ’s sacrifice,
Jesus is forever for us.
Gifts: mercy, grace, Love
Always accruing to us
We are blessed children, 
Each one precious to Jesus
Souls, hearts, sealed by His Spirit.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan, Friday, October 7, 2022

PROMPT: If you are inclined, create something outside or inside the storm. Choose your comfort or discomfort and away.

Gratitude: Being whatever it is, I come to be, wherever I am placed, as will be. Blessings eternal.

2022 Creativity Project – Feb. 28

Still of My Heart

Neil has been in the news recently, some controversy with a podcast celebrity. The details of that mean very little to me. Music, however, is a balm to me.

I do not recall the exact year, sometime between 1979 and 1981; I remember being introduced to Neil Young’s music in a tiny two-room basement apartment where I was continually trying to invite the light in because dusk was its only setting.

A group of us were playing Dungeons & Dragons, and Joe brought some albums to introduce to me because even then, I avoided radio. He had Live Rust, and when he lowered my Capehart Stereo’s needle to the vinyl on the album, I knew I would be listening from then on. When Neil sang, “I Am Child,” I knew he understood. “Sugar Mountain” could have been the anthem of my emancipation; getting married at sixteen took fortitude and a will to escape.

I went to Turtle’s the next day and bought Live Rust and Decade. Every iteration of recordings I purchased, those two above, Harvest, and After The Gold Rush, were members of my collection.

Neil will never keep silent; the music is strong in him.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan