2022 Creativity Project – Day 6

Open the door on a new-fangled year. Somehow it seems unclear who is going on. Will a pose be stuck to endear, or are all acts sheared away.

Maybe everything is unformed as the void was before the Word gave life. Words are the tools to sculpt the way, whatever means each day.

1
I
Light the
Chalice
With a
Headstrong
Libation
From
Somewhere
Distinct
In memory
And moment,
Motion
To see
You
Again.

2
The work
Never stops,
The war to
Keep together
What battles
Left me;
Meaning confused
By voices,
Whether his or
Mine,
Unknown.

3
I sing
Like,
Maybe,
Someone
Would
Take
Interest,
Still,
As usual
I am plagued
By fear
And doubt –
The both
Block
My
Music
Out.

4
Sleep,
Soft ones,
So dear –
Life is
A balmy
Evening,
Where ravens
Appear.

One through three are tanka; four is a haiku. I gave them unconventional line breaks to add emphasis.

PROMPT
Consider something you have created; take it to another medium or form. Please do not presume to know what you make until you take directions you did not first use.

Appreciation
1. Even when I fall, I find the way.
2. What no one knows.
3. Still learning.

Thank you for your time. Follow or come back if you want to do so. Your likes and recommendations are appreciated.

All here appearing is © Jo Ann J. A. Jordan.

Reclaimed

As most of you may know, I lost my Mom several years ago after being her full-time caregiver for some years.

We both collected cups, although Mom had an altogether more impressive cache having had more money to spend.

We were active in CBC as long as she could go without danger or humiliation. In the singles group, I met Bernice, but she soon became a treasured friend of us both. She gave my Mom the cup above, which is by far one of the most unique I have seen.

This work of art was stored in a curio cabinet in the common area. A few weeks ago, as I was walking my circle through the house, I heard the beginning of a crash.

I was right beside the cabinet on my path, and an assortment of glass, ceramic, and china things Mom collected and painted fell out on the floor. The stud that held the shelf let go and tilted so that with the accumulated weight, the door opened, and much tumbled out to shatter.

The unique cup Bernice gifted Mom was not on that shelf, thankfully. I have been moving it around the house, hoping to keep it safe.

I was crushed that several figures Mom painted after I taught her how to help with her tremors were destroyed. I hope there are no such future occurrences.

I think this cup is so unusual; I thought I would share.

Conveyance

Clamoring ashore
After rafting away on
The mud-riddled stream
Of a river hard lapping
At the seams, uncounted dreams.

Capturing belief,
An obstinant vocation –
Using wicked sieves
Made tender observations,
Leaves bound for future intrigues.

Language comes stumbling
Like a tired fugitive to light,
Pressing for freedom
A world gaining great delight;
Waters flood out with insight.

Hands reaching bloodied
Soft bathed by insistent tears,
Trundling through deep years
Where solace moments, slip past,
Drenched, shivering, home at last.