Grace Notes

Hope screams
In its dreams
Wide awake,
Feeling all things,
No choice
To remake
History; unraveling,
Quitting forever

Are met
The choices
Given God’s

Why fear?
Stand firm
In surety
Of sovereign
For faith’s

Crossing temporal
Aiming for delight
In hope’s fight
To eliminate
Though stormclouds,

All work present on this site, unless otherwise noted, belongs:
© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

We Create

When creating seems impossible, sometimes it is good to bide our time and do things that fill the well. Other times we have to jump in and make do with what comes. Pushing ourselves will not necessarily lessen our work’s quality, but it might get us back to flow.

We may not feel like cooking, but we will do it so we can eat. Our art will never appear without our exerting effort. Even if inspiration seems to desert us, we have agile minds, which can imagine even when the streams we commonly rely on have run dry.

We must do, or we fall into habits that include accepting creative blocks. There comes a moment we recognize a stop only exists as we allow it.

Breaking Through

The cold moves over
Me like a breath of wind brought
In with the opening
Of a door unexpected
And I chill a little thrill.

Night has in its fists
All the light it took away
At the sun’s setting
It seems to whisper Winter
Has no patience to further wait.

I laugh that ready
Chortle that calls another
Game to begin here
For this too is my season
Breathing it, I brace with health.

One essential point to keep foremost in mind is that we are not guaranteed time. What we want to do we must be busy about doing. Finding a reason is easy if we wish to leave some evidence of our lives on Earth. We are capable of much more than we often believe. Only we can do what we can do.

If you must, borrow
A smile from a friend, stranger,
Then bend creation.

Here’s hoping everyone finds themselves with the mindset to create. It is so vital; in fact, it can change reality.

Wave upon wave drives
Crashing to shore swallowing –
Ejecting, found more.

All material on this site unless otherwise noted is
© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Short Riff

God help me, I’m broken –
Again I wanted, but found,
My presence was bound
To things which I wished
Less remembered, oft-forgotten.


You will not recall
What happened on such a day;
Rain gets in the way.


No one understands
Walking these many long miles
When pain arises.


The library is
Spurned, all books now there returned;
Hands for paper yearn.


The number hidden
In our soul, how long we have –
So, love we must share,
Mete out kind encouragement,
And needful inspiration.


I have a longer piece in my journal which goes beyond the first bit. Unlikely, it, the public shall see. I hide, to save the heart of being me.

If you have not read the Fantasy & Science Fiction Magazine lately, you should check it out. Relentless by Dean Koontz which came out some years ago is also worth reading.

One day I will return to reviewing books I have read this year. This list grows long.

As a prompt: Use these words in your composition – concert, guitar, mug, closed window, ghost, fairing, shower, ultimately, lake, tetradactyl.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

I am thankful, sometimes when it all falls apart, God puts it back together better.

A Voice, Recalling

When we lose someone, we lose a world. Like pulled dandelions, what we shared no longer grows, and memories begin their inexorable progression toward erasure.

Loss is not a welcome thing, but the world relies on change to bring new worth. We are only brief figments here on earth.

I remember playing with the cigar box full of marbles as a child. They were of different sizes, colors, like jewels to me. I made them families, heroes, nobles, gave them ages, dispositions, names. One would sit in the hole on the clipboard’s clip and tell the others what to do. Each globe would, in the different voices I contrived and assigned, live life in child-time.

When my son was small, I got him Weebles with their cute rounded bodies and affable faces. It occurs to me today why I preferred Weebles to the other brand: the marbles influenced me.

What life deposits in our hands, heads, hearts, pockets, shoes, we may not recognize until some complexity pulls it into mind. The sea awash within a brain is a many furrowed swell; the trenches have their heads and tales to tell.

I am not fond of goodbyes. Usually, it is me who must go away, and life goes on ever else. Death, though, is another story. All that is left to hold are anecdotes, pictures, memories we wrote. The pain is like a hammer to the brain, the million shards left of the heart; together, these foist into life oceans of tears. Even as the years go by, there are days when all fails, but the sobs that will not stop.

I would go back to the marbles if I could, but they left my inventory’s grasp somewhere in the years. Like so much along the way, I only have recollections of what I believe was yesterday. Without artifacts, there are questions, questions arresting and bold.

Today is, we can
Maybe, make a memory
Shining beautiful,
So the mind will forever
Keep it safely untarnished.

Reading books can be a treasure of inspiration.

As a prompt, take something you are reading, pick a phrase, let it marinate in your consciousness. Then write until your soul exhausts the subject, at least for a time.

Gratitude List

I am thankful:

I am here; there were many near misses.
I still learn and am teachable.
Technology astounds, confounds, and fascinates me.
Color adds so much to our lives.
Electricity keeps the world going on.

If we all work together separately, we can bring the world into a state of art. Creativity is a portion of love.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan