Yellow Flowers

The quiet does not always
Speak its mind, but hides
What it guesses in another
Rhyme set among the grasses
Decorated by lovely dandelions
Whose heads are lopped off
By progressive mowers
Who winnow down and control
The growth of pesky weeds
So they may not encroach
On the uniformity of lawns.
The tenders are sanctioned
By the owners who see such
Service as a particular grace
Nature having to be restricted
Or it will capture all, everything,
In its fervid path of degeneracy.
Wildflowers though possessing
A subtle beauty are unwelcome
As opinions that rise unpopular
In a culture of conformity
Where most every sound, note,
Joins the harmonious refrain
Chosen by those who can afford
To pay the cost of player voices
Repeating carefully designed lines
Popularized over hemispheres
To keep the people in their places
Everywhere, all the time.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

2020.07.13 Dandelion for YF rr


Sometimes the smiles drop,
Belief in love falls limp, strays,
What is left is dismal, drear,
So the smiles get pasted back on,
Nagging doubts are swept off, away.
Even if we pretend,
Eventually, we see
Love staring, sharing,
Toward us generously;
Imagination becomes
A positive proof
No one can refute, deny,
It is plain as reality,
Love chases us down
Coopts our days, fills us completely
Will never give up, cannot stop
Until it proves us precious
Beyond logical understanding;
Love is who we are, what is meant
To be in every event, situation, thing,
We cannot outrun or misguide it
Love knows us intimately,
It brought us alive,
Is throughout our living,
When fear, doubt, tear us apart
Love pick us up, straightens our smile,
Sets us firmly upon our feet,
Whispers, “I am with you, go again!”


© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Continue; Be

Nothing works to plan
Everything turns into dust,
But still, no despair
Earth can, with work, become brick
And with brick, great things are built.

I have no heart to
Tell you it is all over
Because this fight has
Been an everyday event
Longer than our lives endure.

Together we can
Make this nothing, a something
Others marvel at
Just trust and see, it happens,
People create history.

I have heart, your ways,
There is no force beyond love
Blessed of God above
Dreams, bright vision, filling days,
Creation alive expands.

We are stardust, blended light,
When given enough freedom
We banish terrors of blight.


I sat up in bed, writing into the morning hours. This was one of the poems I wrote just before sleep.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Something Unexpected

The Dell went crazy and lost its ability to connect again, this device has no IP address, um, no. I fixed it, so now I am updating this. It only took hours.

So I did this awesome thing in my journal and took photos of it with the S8. I hope you will think it is unique. I am replacing the shots with scans, so most of you will never see that mess.


2020-02-02_Stargazer page two

Lilies in Bloom

Those are stargazers from my house in the 90s. Once upon a time, I had a home. I have that file, but the network is in a reset, so maybe the Dell will jump back online. I have now replaced the photo of my print with the original scan file photo. I need my networking guru.

So, there you are. God bless, even if you do not believe in God, He believes in you. Please never feel like I am forcing the issue. We all need to think as we can until it changes. I love you any which way.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Pens, Tanka, Joined Tanka Poems; & More

Most people I know who are writers are pen aficionados, and I am guilty. I have been collecting pens for an age. I like to put them at the top of my website, but their provenance varies. The one up there now is one of a bunch I picked up during the time Target had exotic pens. I could afford to spend very little on them, and there they were. I do not think any of them were over $10.

The thing about those pens is that many of them are just as beautiful as costly ones today. I try to control my obsession.

Behave, stop looking,
Now, do not go there, be good,
Avoid, remain free,
Go look at the collection
No pen do you need, require.

I once thought if I had a Mont Blanc, I would have arrived as a writer. Sam’s Club used to sell them in the 2000s. I had worked for a while, then wound up hospitalized. While working, I got my pen. My thoughts on arrival were erroneous. I begin to doubt ever arriving. My investment in becoming a competent and self-educated writer, though, has been intense.

Alex is after me to get rid of books and clothes, and I am not reacting docilely to the suggestion. He has not gone after the pens, though. I can hope he has not noticed, but more likely, being trained in military tactics, he is biding his time and wishing to obtain those other objectives before attacking another front.

He told me today, for the first time in my life, I wish you were normal. I wish I were normal, it would be so much easier. I have never been normal. I do thank God I am at least partially functional.

Today, I got the call par excellence, Monday, is my trip to the psychiatrist. As usual, I would love to instead send someone else, attend by proxy. All-day, it takes all day.

Love Holds

I think of you, blue,
The sky, sea, the heart of me,
Without an answer,
I think my incompetence
Yet I dream you, many things.

Did I say too much
Or provide you too little,
I was way off stride,
So much depends on the words
Yet, sometimes language evades.

I fought crystal tears
Light icicles, waterfalls,
Wonder if I am
Anything, anyone, one
Better than imagining.

I step back into
Shadows, blue-black and opaque,
If it is, maybe,
Time freely given, settles,
Around these forsaken feet.

Time is a captor
Of hearts, loves all meant sublime
Whatever will be,
Will be, times without number
At my organ, I sang and played.

I thought to have left
Uncertainties behind, but
I find the circle
Wheels round, round, over again
But I scarce remember why.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

As a prompt: Our hearts and minds often overwhelm us. If you feel your emotions, thoughts, adrift in a whirlpool, put a hook in, and pull out something. Then take it, elaborate, gnaw at it, and create a work in your chosen art. Let it be random. If that means a computerized randomizer or a jar with slips of paper, it might be just what you need.

I want you to know you are beautiful, worthy, talented, and you have a purpose. Do not give up. Many people believe you are precious, even if they do not express it. You, you be the one to express love and sow hope. I believe in you.

When we open our eyes to nature, even the weeds are beautiful. God creates paintings if we choose to see.