tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29759088109055120582024-12-18T22:20:37.207-05:00Experience. Reflect. Write.Jordan Shaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17505868818648385552noreply@blogger.comBlogger56125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2975908810905512058.post-65298503729353371642020-02-21T05:37:00.002-05:002020-02-21T13:07:31.913-05:00

She tore the wrapper off the straw leaving a piece at the end, letting me know she didn’t touch where my sips form. And said, “This means i love you in origami” So i followed her, day by day. Observing and learning. Watching how she would toss her coat after entering the house. Always on the chair. Always without looking, leaving her wrist cocked in the air for a noticeable moment. Subtle

Jordan Shaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17505868818648385552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2975908810905512058.post-70192921776536708092017-04-12T18:26:00.001-04:002017-04-17T16:31:31.152-04:00

The intensity of your focus - trying your best not to spill a drop, makes your hands tremble which sends ripples through me,  pushing me further to the perimeter,  further away from that comfortable center you've created for me. Your head is down - tunnel vision becoming hazy over time. I seep through your wrinkled fingers,  ebbing over the taut pads of your palms.

Jordan Shaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17505868818648385552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2975908810905512058.post-54913946462875849322017-04-03T05:00:00.001-04:002017-04-03T16:43:35.136-04:00

She whispered "someone's in the house". In one swift motion  I went from supine on the bed,  to gliding silently to the end of the hall.  I took my family and wrapped them,  bound tight and comfortable and quiet,  and tossed them to myself  already waiting at the bottom of the steps.  I tucked them safely amongst the warm blankets of dust 

Jordan Shaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17505868818648385552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2975908810905512058.post-71938760169355977912015-10-05T10:52:00.002-04:002015-10-05T16:35:10.108-04:00

My memories of Mamie  are not defined by one moment, but a string of glistening continuity.  A delicate vibration of grace and poise.  A strand of pearls that can't be broken, only left clasped and circling in our memories. When we would go skiing  Mamie wouldn't need to cut hard into the snow  with the sharp edges of her skis,  it was effortless, 

Jordan Shaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17505868818648385552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2975908810905512058.post-12266351504006111442014-06-24T11:50:00.001-04:002014-06-25T09:18:40.724-04:00

Standing in his orchard, pants hiked up, sweat soaking his tucked-in button down beige work shirt. A large, exaggerated, windmill of a wave, and matching smile as I hear him holler, "Hiya!". Standing in front of his brush pile. His hat casts the shade of a maple, and his stride has the length and strength of the same tree's roots. His limbs wave me in, and we spend the afternoon picking up sticks

Jordan Shaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17505868818648385552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2975908810905512058.post-11497741888511302562014-06-19T16:43:00.001-04:002014-06-19T16:51:55.618-04:00

A man much more than I. To have discipline and control despite gallons sloshing and swerving the mind when full. To consider yourself as a valuable member of a team; a team named "Humanity" and to be one that does good and helps those who wouldn't do the same for you. And to be seen as a man more than capable, with a reputation of good character. There is the folly with my faults, so visible. All

Jordan Shaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17505868818648385552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2975908810905512058.post-84621813129438916112014-06-13T11:09:00.002-04:002014-06-13T12:46:27.570-04:00

If you've found yourself out in the hustle and bustle again, and your new boots now have a scuff in 'em that can never be buffed or erased, but the ones that rustle in your shiny new bag really have no place in your home. And you know they surely won't fit in your closet - but you deal with the whirling cars and lights and strange smells and passive aggressive fights and at that moment all signs

Jordan Shaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17505868818648385552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2975908810905512058.post-15389259406945146252014-06-07T23:51:00.001-04:002014-06-09T09:07:52.104-04:00

I squeeze our memories from the pulp of my mind, and let them roll down the back of my neck, absorbing into the hard spots of my heart. And the more I nourish my heart with the sweetness of thoughts of our time together it swells with emotion. I let them continue to flood. Sitting at my desk, my hands on my head, I wait to burst. Jordan R Shaver 6.7.2014

Jordan Shaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17505868818648385552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2975908810905512058.post-28540683790591775932014-05-05T15:43:00.001-04:002014-05-08T12:16:26.540-04:00

What a weekend! My mind's still reeling. I can't shake this feeling. I'm enamored. I met someone new, and everything seems so tiny with my head floating high in the clouds. This haze is a welcome relief from my hectic workweek. And the maze of roads below encourage me to settle in with the warm mist of these cumulus nimbi passing over my cheek - I'm reminded of her. On the drive in I gently

Jordan Shaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17505868818648385552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2975908810905512058.post-51564377040878677412014-03-21T09:37:00.002-04:002014-03-21T15:21:14.523-04:00

I like to keep my fingertips brown. Dirt under at least one nail. I like to keep one open wound out of respect for my mortality, and to keep my flesh from becoming frail. I like to keep a stained fingertip at attention. My lips pressed together, and a song on queue in my head. To enhance my days humming a little ditty tapping attentive fingertips  - not at all too pretty.

Jordan Shaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17505868818648385552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2975908810905512058.post-75375163711490990362014-03-21T09:34:00.000-04:002014-03-24T12:51:57.646-04:00

Cradles of carbon and caskets of coke, we were birthed in slag and baptized in smoke. We rise with the stippling deep in our pores. We ache with the creaks and cracks of the mold. Rationalizing our work with the fantasies we're told. While the steel keeps us up, and pressure pushes down, we rack ourselves straight, and drink ourselves round. Jordan R Shaver &

Jordan Shaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17505868818648385552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2975908810905512058.post-12388325258999093382014-03-11T09:52:00.000-04:002014-03-12T12:46:04.716-04:00

I've been away from the noise and the chaos for a while. What wond'rous crowed where we'd all rise together. Our touching elbows and mingling pools of sweat unify. Our temperaments meet and settle together  - hanging on one tone. I've been away from the enveloping music. The best friend strangers. The smells. Oh God the smells. I've been away from that high that carries us all home safely.

Jordan Shaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17505868818648385552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2975908810905512058.post-92185780545961967112013-11-15T09:48:00.001-05:002014-06-20T16:30:16.150-04:00

To find the beautiful words appropriately translating intentions is often impossible. But then your mind strays, And stays - Lingering among the beautiful words. As if the thoughts themselves will materialize And become the truth. Sometimes they do. So let's ponder Over the time you walk down the isle Or watched someone you love walk down the isle. Or fantasizing about having an excess of money

Jordan Shaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17505868818648385552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2975908810905512058.post-77778367230607537002013-11-07T11:09:00.000-05:002013-11-07T11:09:18.342-05:00

Watching a short video of a poet and instructor, I decided to take her advice and put into writing 10 things I'm certain of. Here's what I came up with: Here's the link to Sarah Kay's TED talk where she performs her poem and give a few anecdotal stories from her teaching experiences. http://www.ted.com/talks/sarah_kay_if_i_should_have_a_daughter.html I realize now that I'm sure I know less that

Jordan Shaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17505868818648385552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2975908810905512058.post-89246416069317936342013-09-26T11:11:00.000-04:002013-09-26T11:24:59.009-04:00

We rise as a family, This could mean many different things depending on your own family. Nevertheless we rise. Stumbling around the farmer's back woods, who - these days - is farming nothing but hope. Hope of a wetter seed that grips the earth tight. Hope of a richer soil that needs no more care than the amount he can muster. Hope that the chemicals in his barn, going unused for years, but

Jordan Shaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17505868818648385552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2975908810905512058.post-69571458346356368392013-08-12T09:09:00.000-04:002013-08-14T13:13:20.370-04:00

Louisville, KY July 12, 13, and 14 2013 We're late. Leaving the house in perfect order 4 hours later than our anticipated departure time was worth the peace of mind. Until we realize our rooms may be given away. We call. Get it sorted. And our 6 hour road trip gains an hour and a half with rush hour traffic through Columbus and then Cincinnati. On the way we get the confirmation that Animal

Jordan Shaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17505868818648385552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2975908810905512058.post-51893402262241973442013-06-25T17:08:00.000-04:002013-06-26T01:48:46.032-04:00

She sang 'Where have you been My blue eyed son? You've been running toward the light for years now son.' As my eyes touched these words, I could feel her warm soft breath as she sung them to the tune of "A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall". Dylan could read his own words with less emotion. She stalls. Damming up the tears. With a quick valsalva, and squeezing her lips until they disappear. 'You've been

Jordan Shaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17505868818648385552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2975908810905512058.post-63662664798108168952013-05-03T13:06:00.001-04:002013-05-03T13:08:10.934-04:00

I belong in the wilderness where the water flows, silken sounding with a crisp cold taste. I belong in the wilderness, where the abundance overwhelms. I belong with the savages needing only appreciation for them and the wilderness. I need their skills to support mine, and a musician to saturate the air and draw out the palpable texture of our love. I belong in the wilderness, where

Jordan Shaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17505868818648385552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2975908810905512058.post-17707534681205357952013-05-03T07:54:00.002-04:002013-05-06T15:00:00.145-04:00

Alone, she begins her morning routine. Which has had certain aspects fall away as the years pass. Today she chose to skip the slippers. The echoes from her sweet Charles; a dog she loved for many years, is her alarm clock and she shuffles to the door without hesitation. But with no dog to let out, she's strategically placed her coffee pot on the counter near the door. She hits start.

Jordan Shaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17505868818648385552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2975908810905512058.post-34112784602770866732013-03-13T10:24:00.001-04:002013-03-13T14:38:21.205-04:00

Because when I spill my music; gushing from the tiny headphones all over the floor, I immediately drop to my knees like an indian concentrating on approaching hoofbeats. And slurp that sound right off the ground, and no mess is left to slip on. Jordan R Shaver 03/13/2013

Jordan Shaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17505868818648385552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2975908810905512058.post-43335336290079825982012-11-02T11:10:00.000-04:002013-02-21T20:23:14.313-05:00

We all know the feeling. Standing at the end of the dock - teeth chattering, while our toes dangle, waving at the rippling water below. We watch the waves with seaweed entangled, and test the depth with our eyes pacing the edge, searching for the courage to dive. We build a relationship with the dock. Knowing it’s the safe spot we treat it like those who live one day at a time,

Jordan Shaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17505868818648385552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2975908810905512058.post-32093725983328917042012-10-25T09:06:00.001-04:002013-02-21T20:23:14.285-05:00

Works and deeds trail behind each of us in lines upon the pages of the minds of those who have seen. And because his own thoughts are not recorded as his past, he can sense it's their perception as what has kept him from being free. No one really writes an autobiography. But to turn the page to another day, and make a change so other's can feel his emotions  - what he

Jordan Shaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17505868818648385552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2975908810905512058.post-43292474194939108162012-10-16T08:52:00.003-04:002012-10-16T21:27:00.782-04:00

I would like to take a moment and thank everyone who visits this blog. Since August 2010 I have been lucky enough to have 3000 pageviews, which makes me feel that the content of my work is recieved well and inspires me to keep on writing. Don't forget to check the tabs on the right to get a month-by-month view of past works. Feel free to comment - constructive criticism and topic requests

Jordan Shaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17505868818648385552noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2975908810905512058.post-62955211231587092832012-10-09T21:33:00.002-04:002013-02-21T20:23:14.336-05:00

Run. Run on into the darkness, beyond the light of your own inspiration. And keep running, deep into the future, to where the history of your thoughts and memories are but a lighted dot when you turn to reflect. And that light grows, speeding toward you as though you've broken a law, and consequences are never far behind. In that time of deep dark, living in a world you've never

Jordan Shaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17505868818648385552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2975908810905512058.post-39072990659403183582012-09-21T12:08:00.000-04:002013-02-21T20:23:14.294-05:00

We made eye contact and opened the door in unison, our hands piled upon each other upon the doorknob. And entered the house like we would a cold pool; with reserve and introverted caution, waiting for a shock of pain to jolt us from our smug comforts, and I begged my will to gather itself and strengthen to force my head an inch further inside. The handrail leading up the steps

Jordan Shaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17505868818648385552noreply@blogger.com1