Celestial

Some tell me the stars
Hold me, describing my fate;
I think they shine light
Into the deepest darkness
Lending me strength to begin.

When the sky above
Burns like a bonfire aflame
Upon such a plane
The confusion enhances
Every blessed moment timed.

I plucked, like fine fruit
For display, banquet, table,
Where grace finds its place
Making everything stable
Until dawn convenes with song.

Rich the scattered hours
No creature may fast devour,
But explosive spent
In ceaseless labor unmeant
To torture the evening ways.

The stars have lived long,
Being a beginning staid,
Forever music
Played those spheres united, untied,
What we know, guess, still survives.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

It Happened

Richard convinced me I needed a new phone. My old one has been very close to useless for nearly a year. It restarted erratically, would not sync with my vehicle, broke my SD card, and was just a pain.

I usually get Samsung Flagship phones, but in reduced circumstances, I had to do differently. This is a top tier phone without the gargantuan price.

The Samsung Galaxy A32 5g on sale with some carriers now is an incredible piece of tech. It has six cameras, fingerprint, and facial identification, a six-inch screen, 64 GB of internal storage expandable with up to a TB SD card, Dolby ATMOS, and if you need a phone, you could not find a better deal.

So there, I wrote a tech review. I had a constant personal ad until I was overwhelmed. I will not do that to you. Consider it a Public Service Announcement.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Pocket Lament

Pockets,
Oh,
Pockets,
Why are you
Always given
Over to the males?
Here we,
Such genteel
Females
Are bound
By weight of
Purses!
Maybe some
Manmade
Pleasure done
To encumber
Us in some
Kind, way,
For Lord knows
What might occur
Were both our
Hands empowered.
Even enlightened
As these times are
One may not
Depend on
Fashion,
For pockets can
Be often false,
Others too
Small
To carry
Much.
Designers could
Give
Consideration
To cost
Of female
Liberty lost.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

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.