Category: Original Poetry

What If?

I have been contemplating letting the large traps of social media go. There is much about those sites I find annoying. The commercialization, the fiction that they are social, and the fact there is so little of my friends’ original content I see when I visit, confound me.

Here, I can write without much worry of plagiarism. I can always post my links there. Another thing is that it is an election year, and the politicization of the whole social media universe is worrisome.

I have not posted here in some time. Most of what I have written has gone on social media; that is shameful of me. Will I do better? I should hope so. Seeing the wide open field of white, awaiting my words, almost convinces me I am at home.

A writer, should to earn the title, write. I would be well served to remember this fact.

What of you, are you allowing your creativity to shape your days, or some few spare moments, at least?

To what conviction
Do I owe fascination?
Grackles the breeze own.

Gratitude List
I am thankful:
1. No ads chase me here.
2. Wearing shorts in April (all Winter, in fact).
3. Air-conditioning.
4. I have the Explorer.
5. It is Friday.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan
Friday, April 26, 2024

Thus, Begin

Sometimes you must lose
To learn to win graciously.
Sometimes your heart breaks,
To make room for love again.
Suffering can teach you
How to live more freely.
Disappointment gives a chance
For an increased appreciation of joy.
When you hit the bottom
Your energy renews for the climb.
When you are left empty, alone,
You discover your faithful friends.
When everything is gone, nothing left,
You reach for God and find Him there.
If your happiness disappears, with delight,
Jesus can restore your pleasure, full-measure.
If you need more than you are able
God can provide fulfillment plentifully.
Nothing is over unless you quit
Winners like you, keep going, getting up.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Standard Deviation

How is one exact,
But
Also outside, in doubt?
The mind is never
A closed system,
It knows those things,
But
It allows room for fault.
Variables inject deviation
From what seems inevitable,
This present; what we, as humans
Know
Here is subject to unmaking.
Change is a complete
Norm, though norms, might
Be terms to use most
Sparingly,
Because difference is
Encountered in everything.
Each creation of God –
Is fashioned unique;
All
We see, know, are, have,
Is individual, ours here
To experience within
The sampling being
We
Are and constant construct.
When we awake, rise,
We are like the day, beginning
Anew, potential
Envelopes
Us in endless possibility,
Loved, creative, free.
Nothing is beyond our
Capacity to learn,
But
Scattered uncertainty
Grows wild as weeds in
Gardens of delighted insight
A misstep, an accident,
Suddenly,
We are gone –
All we gathered, amassed,
Lost as if,
We never even happened.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Emergency
© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Eschew/Renew

We sketch our lives in
Invisible ink on these walls
Of air, earth, fire, flesh;
We pass like roses, beauty,
Only present a short while.
Our hands busy, selves,
Creating foundations for
Futures never ours,
Generations we offer
Our best gifts, accomplishments.
Now, we sing against
Doubt, fear, insecurity –
Fighting shadow blight
Where the fruit will flourish, brave,
In gardens of delight, saved
From degradations,
We erase with consistent
Labor over years
Paying in earnest, never
Letting faith, hope, slip away.
Love, our guiding light
Though we fade in brightest glare,
Almost completely
Unknown, contributing hearts
To lives, we wish to see free.
Words cannot bring
Every dream into being,
But speaking, a tool,
Purpose-built to encourage
Change within lives reached, inspired.
Plentiful, we, examples
Scattered over time, what minds
Mend, creating more sublime,
Love, part an art, taught hands-on
Driving history toward grace
Still, counting every life, face,
A precious gift to embrace,
With confidence, each person
Has meaning, purpose, reason,
Position in time and space.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

The Well, Prepared

Situation Playcation © Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Writing is the thing that teaches us to understand the experience we cannot command or comprehend. Living is a riot, constant impressions, wild digressions, unbanished obsessions, mythic approximations, and passionate exhibitions.

Love is real, no poetic fairytale; it sometimes bites with destructive force. There are other times it breathes life back into a being near become a cold, bloodless corpse. Heedless, love carries headless need into ages where hearts aflame assuage the blame for falling again.

I.
When what you most want
Remains beyond ability
You become adept
Using CREATIVITY
To fulfill some hopes and dreams.

II.
I am not ideal
But being real is enough
For those loving me.

III.
I have discovered
The wild child passionate self
Does exist still.

IV.
I could sing you blue,
Golden, or bright rainbow hues;
I would disappear
In the arrangement of notes,
Unrecognized within you.

V.
Love plays, tackling us,
In fields where flowers obey
Injunctions to fade;
We are colors resisting
What makes delight history.

Prompt: Create something showing how writing or art rescue from the forgetfulness of greedy insanity.

Thankfulness:
No television to distract.
Productiveness.
Moleskine.
Love.
Creativity.

I am glad you found Chronicles, but my current site is Haphazard Creative. In the sidebar, there are three methods to follow the site. Utilize one of those, or come back when your life allows. Any comments, likes, shares, suggestions, or thoughts are welcome. When you interact with creation, you impact lives.

Everything on Chronicles is © Jo Ann J. A. Jordan.

Keeping, As Might

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Maybe it is such
An easy thing for some, but
For others proves a trial,
Errors
Continue adding up,
Dark clouds fill the horizon.
A refusal to quit
Being, dreaming, hoping,
Unfathomable
As specific thoughts may seem
An allowance meted freely,
Possibly altering faith, love.
Holding
To knowing life –
Assured in greatness;
Never giving up,
Victory counted dear, very near,
Climb, effectuate blessedness.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

As a prompt, create something that pertains to your immediate plans in this new year.

Gratitude…
Sleep
Solitude
Singing
Reading
Being

Thank you for visiting Chronicles. I hope it was a pleasant experience. If you wish, visit Haphazard Creative, my current site. http://haphazardcreative.com

I am trying this year to return to the original form of Creativity Project used on Chronicles. I included more elements each day than I did in 2020 on Haphazard Creative.

Pronounced

You cried your words, right,
Into the heart of my life, soul,
Answering was I
Bound close as yourself to you
I sang beauty in a voice
I borrowed – starlight;
The wind untamed took captive
Every small moment
I did not hide in pockets
Protected from your unknown.
Across many years
I chased every pleasure found
In other places,
But each was lacking something
Proven in your words to me.
My nebulous thoughts
Converge, enfold your body
In a field tender
As the minute sensation
Of love, long-deferred, come due.
Myself, my sight, is
Frequent as light traveling
Across space and time
To portray your perfect poise
Provided contrasting darkness.
I have now become
More than distant yesterdays;
Music you wrote, soft,
Upon the flesh, heart, dancing
Beneath your strong, gentle hands.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Journal Poems

The pages I do with fountain pens are a bit more difficult. I keep wondering why I am trying so hard to get good at using them. They are at best finicky.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

I encourage you to visit http://haphazardcreative.com. It is where I am currently working daily. This I only update occasionally.

Close Enough

The rain falls down
Your hand in my pocket, warm,
Somehow we have to
Get ourselves out of the storm,
The umbrella comes between
The closeness that should
Forever be you and me.

It is not our grandparent’s
Wonderful life, we must be careful
Round here, to succeed, to survive.

Fires, they rage, so wild,
Out of control, gotta set up –
Some smoke control,
Breathing gets harder, exerts,
Until it almost sets up hurt,
Clouds on the horizon, but no,
It is the fire’s dark exhaust.

It is not our grandparent’s
Wonderful life, we must be careful
Round here, to succeed, to survive.

Screaming fills in the streets
One says this; another speaks that,
Someone with matches, pyromaniac fun,
The other has a gun in a pocket, heat,
That one has a knife in a boot, treat,
Control fled, no one knows how to live
Everyone is subject to being dead.

It is not our grandparent’s
Wonderful life, we must be careful
Round here, to succeed, to survive.

Your hand in my pocket,
Please do not let me go,
This world is a desolation,
Join me in the isolation
Check the windows, the doors,
No ingress for strangers
Can we now possibly afford.

It is not our grandparent’s
Wonderful life, we must be careful
Round here, to succeed, to survive.

Who have we finally become
Who cannot communicate,
Cannot show respect enough
To avoid a world that deteriorates?
Where did the love go, tell me,
We are all in this together,
If not, we will likely all fall.

It is not our grandparent’s
Wonderful life, we must be careful
Round here, to succeed, to survive.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

This is brought over from http://haphazardcreative.com. I work there these days. If you are interested I have done at least one post daily all year. I would love to see you there.