Reading List, So Far, 2020

I am doing this because I do not do on-site reviews for retailers or GoodReads anymore, well, almost exclusively. I will note how I read each, the media, at the beginning. I am including Amazon links. I do not long retain enough because I ingest so much print, to give you more than a brief overview. If I have that much memory, I am lucky. Something in my disease affects all that, but it is to your advantage, I cannot go on forever about books I loved.

Kindle – The Powers by Mark W. Erwin, 204 pages – 5 stars: Reminded me of The Secret, but had a more God-centered focus. It should be said that those who are non-Christians should find no offense, and the advice appears sound.

Kindle – Somewhere In Time by Richard Matheson, 321 pages – 5 stars: I am a time-travel buff, love to read about it, write about it, look at the science, so I loved this book. It is flawlessly written, it contains mystery, and though I avoid romance, it has a love story. You cannot go wrong with this one. It is a timeless classic.

Kindle –  The Raven Tower by Ann Leckie, 465 pages – 5stars: First, I will tell you I got 25 pages in and was so disgusted, I quit. I dislike doing that, but the book was primarily written in the second person, and I abhorred reading it. Give me a few days with my conscience, and well, I went back. I am a sucker for stories with gods, goddesses, and mankind all meddling in one another’s affairs. So I read, read, and read until I finished. Mythology and Egyptology were some of my favorite subjects back in the day. It is not so strange that I still enjoy such entertainments.

Kindle – Tell The Wolves I’m Home by Carol Rifka Brunt, 367 pages  – 5 stars: This book could wrench the gut and bring on tears in ways that run deep. There is art, family dynamics, misunderstood relationships, blame, and AIDS, plus two pre-teens to teens growing up. I think you should read it, but hey, I could be wrong.

Kindle Unlimited – Why Poetry by Matthew Zapruder, 256 pages – 5stars, but truthfully, 10 stars: I read a lot of writing craft books. I try to learn all I can. What was unusual about this book was just a few words, maybe a page could set my mind off to the point I had to write. I am not sure I learned a lot, it was just motivating. The author is so gifted and writes so well. If you create poetry, do not miss this one.

I have several books underway, and if there is interest, I can make a list from 2019. I am reading things I own now. 2019 was primarily library books.

I hope you found something to spark your interest.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

 

What I Want To Be…

Do you ever ask yourself who you want to be?
I do, and mostly, I know, but there is confusion
and a need to grow into me, upward, onward,
stronger, further, into maturity. Yes, I know 56
should be grown-up, but there is still some kid in me.
I want to be a publisher whose first client is me,
and take the world by storm, inevitably.
I also want to record some of the songs
I let loose into the air, never writing down,
just enjoying the richness of
creating words and sounds.
I would like to be a Laureate since the Poet
is an undeniable force in me. Dreaming, dreaming,
silly one, all a coward can be
is marginalized and hidden in obscurity.
I could coach someone, but I lack credentials
and have no proven success to make me worthy of faith.
I would like to advocate for the mentally ill,
being a prime example of our competence
when given advantages allowing us to live functionally.
My real purpose is love, accepting everyone, reaching
those who might be overlooked or cast away – showing
even in the worst of times, there is through love
a way to make it into a brighter day.
Some people say God is dead,
they have not seen Him in the love of others.
Jesus cannot reach the world without we allow,
Him to be seen, obviously, in us. I would be one.
Money is not mine, and out of my dungeon,
I may never climb. Still, if I could, what
dreams exist in my heart and mind.

This was paragraphs, still a poem, so I added line breaks. The rhyme that kept creeping in told me I had to take it from prose poem to broken. I see myself being hugely open over the last few days here. It is not really my way, shadows taunt and scare me.

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Okay, your turn, what do YOU want to be? Can you take steps to make it a reality? Dreams do not come true without a plan.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

A Pardon

I do not forgive
Myself a single evil
The shame, guilt, riot;
Peace, like a snow-white dove, flees,
Its presence is often foreign to me.
If I allow some pleasant dream
To linger, spreading love within
My wretched ebon starless soul,
The incessant voices will insist
I am wrapped in delusion reading
Positivity where none abides.
My tenacious unforgiveness would
Kill me, were I never halfway able
To believe Jesus is on my side;
Love, though at times I fail
To recognize because of a mind
Almost drowned in a gulch full
Of mistakes, failures, horrid
Transgressions that append despair,
Oh, Lord, precious Lord, be You near.
The shield I raise to conquer
All these damaging despondencies
Blazes with Christ set flames
My freedom to ensure from each toxin,
Every torment, vicious pain, all fears,
That would pierce, destroy me
Heart and soul.
You, my Lord, make me
Powerful, whole, encourage bravery, boldness,
Inspire me to reach beyond me
For Love, the hope of Heaven, and success;
Lord in You, I find a desire to continue on,
Despite the darkest shadows of all hours.

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This was written because of a prompt in Writing The Life Poetic, which is an excellent poetry craft and inspiration book. I have to have prompts from time to time too.

It is interesting how the suggestion perfectly fits, where I have been emotionally hanging out. I wrote the first draft, as you can see, in my journal. As it often does, bringing it to the screen brought changes.

I hope you find inspiration for your own creative work and bring to life something that will help you live.

Be well, do well, speak well, and love hard as you can.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Poet, I Am, and Will Be

DSC02886I see halos around you, you, you,
Even you, I always have, they terrify;
Cause, why when I see me, is there none?
All of you have a purpose; I have words.
A mind that stumbles, breaks, into rhyme,
Alex calls me out, says to quit reading his mind –
Cause my lips sync his words ahead of time;
Evidently, my brain does predictive scripts
Without my joining, permission, or volition.
I asked, “Only you?” He replied, “No, everyone.”

Being a poet reaches unto nothingness,
Letting whispers, not with clarity, but full-intention,
Slide words, like low lying fog, catching
On the page to travel, ephemeral to readers
Unknown, without rules, to spark imagination
And perhaps engage creativity, so my disappearing
With the vital verbal storm is matched within
The one who pages reads, and captures
The essence of whoever I am, or whoever is me.

Categorically I am uncertain, my life a mess, abnormal,
But there is the thing, undeniable, I, on Mother Goose,
And the right King James Bible raised, became at
A ripe early age, a poet, and have all my days
Chased after what is afar beyond this ordinary hour.
The tempest cannot derail my longing for the words
Of love and perfect yearning, clinging in the sparks
Electric that light up fragile shadowed gray spaces,
Bringing life, cherished faces, thoughts enthused,
Unruly, set free from prison to in freedom roam,
And give, oh now, give silence, nothingness, a pristine home.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Remember, we, literary creatures, poets, all features, are subject to interpretation, not always realistically rendered, and partial to artifice. There is truth, then there is life. I will not insult your intelligence with meaning, because if I said I knew, I would be deceiving. The words flew, I caught a few. Now, you have them, do as you will do.

Hearken Silence

The silence, it hides,
Yet is felt, a blankness,
A disintegration,
Reality’s fabric disrupted
In an annihilation;
Never to be rectified.
Yet, left here, this moment
The splintered, frayed ends
Of this tenuous life – rope;
Must be navigated, searched,
For a reason in the unreasoning
Unfairness of this lonely evolution.
The dew still blankets the grass,
Sun again blooms warming mornings,
Dust collects, and meals are required;
But even as the fond lyrics play
The silence sneaks into the heart,
Divvying up those parts unscathed.
Tragic dislocation, lack of elocution,
Undone echolocation, because
The missing piece will not be found,
Those who inhabit the memory
Lend no voice, make no comforting sound,
But the partition cannot forever
Hold, life is brash, bold, it breaks
Down barriers and behold,
Beginnings filter in and silence lesser grows,
What leads to overcoming, becomes
This moment, hour, day;
Building begins life victorious
Makes a new, wholesome way,
The silence dims, the shadow fades,
Love finds a fortunate home,
On a new arriving day.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

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