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Terry Jordan Apr 2017
It’s not that big a surprise
How much I adore Amsterdam
Like immigrants long ago
So welcomed here just as I am
In the historic Lloyd Hotel
To witness a wedding so swell
I’m glad I’m here in Amsterdam

Canals and bikes aplenty
Whizzing past on every street
The Keukenhof gardens amazed
VanGogh’s Museum made me weep
I’m glad I’m here in Amsterdam

We walked for miles & took the train
Our flight home I made not a peep
It must have been that Space Cake
We ate it and went right to sleep
A fond farewell to Amsterdam
Just returned on a 10-hour flight from Amsterdam to Miami, after witnessing a magical wedding of my niece Karen & Fabian, her now Dutch husband, who shared their vows on a boat ride to the Skinny Bridge where they kissed to seal their love. The' Space Cake' made the plane ride back less painful!
7.2k · Nov 2016
An Ode to Poets
Terry Jordan Nov 2016
The first thinkers were poets
Naming Mother Earth
Beginning symbolic thinking
Of nature, death and birth

Though themes are often repeated
Love, Beauty and God
Poetry in the guise of Religion
A prophet or a fraud

The poet resurrects the Primitive
Through allegory and similes
Disarming the unknown like explorers
Sublime Prophets and Visionaries

They must lay bare those treasured images
That must be expressed
Unraveling and revealing the sounds
At each soul’s behest

Encompassing the entire Cosmos
So lyrical the beat
The poet’s excitement flows outward
Laid at the Reader’s feet

So original, individual
She won’t examine or explain
Letting go the festering feelings
Disturbances in her brain

He exposes his dark, wounded psyche
Just to release and express
Such capacity to see and compare
Hyperbole at its best

I love, I hate, I suffer
A special dance in rhythm and rhyme
The poet as a buffer
Lessening the pain and sting of time

Laden with symbol and feelings
She gives you sweet relief
From something urgent, revealing
Confusion to belief

Through a cinematic kind of seeing
The poet purges to transform
By leaping through Alice’s looking glass
She never was one to conform

Quite intolerant of convention
Just like The Mad Hatter
His passions immune to all logic
In syncopated patter

Jamming up the poet’s mind
Struggling for expression
Seeking order out of chaos
An infantile regression

Cleaving to his imaginary world
The poet breaks out into words
Creating sound paintings to be unfurled
So his own agony is blurred

She succumbs to storms of passion
With instinctive techniques
Rhymes and rhythm still in fashion
Out of hand flows mystique

The poet mines from his unconscious
The Reader is not blind
For every single line and symbol
Means something to the mind

Causing an inner liberation
Enlightenment or flight
It is a matter of life and death
When darkness turns to light.
Been working on this piece for a while; my thoughts on the inner mind of poets.
3.7k · Mar 2017
Invisible Weaving
Terry Jordan Mar 2017
Like an alien in a spotlight
With her magnifying glasses on
My mother as she worked, up all night
Did invisible weaving till dawn

I would watch her when I couldn’t sleep
Honing in on that hole in the suit
Intently, her concentration deep
Weaving tiny threads enlarged like jute

In other-worldly light she labored
I was afraid she’d lose her eyesight
Watching her focus never wavered
Her face all aglow in the lamplight

Invisible weaving, I inquired
How tediously she plied her craft
Worked for the money that she required
Made the warp and weft of fabric last

Reconstruction, undetectable
No more burn, or tear, or fabric blight
Weaving magic so incredible
Its wound now perfect by morning’s light

She taught me much that I’m still making
From her life that now I’m grieving
Sewing, crocheting and great baking
But never invisible weaving

The picture of her life that mattered
I now see how she toiled so finely
And that the wrinkles in the fabric
Of my own life splayed out so blindly

The vision of my eyes, bedazzled
Incandescent, her face in the beam
Unaware how her mind unraveled
As Depression stole her ev’ry dream

The threads of DNA defining
Who I’ve become I’m now believing
My mother’s hand in that designing
Of my own Invisible Weaving

In honor of my mother, Edla Sylvia Fitzpatrick, on this International Women's Day
I was working on this for a while, when I read the Pulitzer Prize winning poem, by C.K. Williams, entitled Invisible Mending.  Same subject, but his metaphor was of forgiveness & redemption, while mine is a little fuzzy, about my connection to my mother...and NOT the winner of a Pulitzer Prize.
3.6k · Sep 2018
Change
Terry Jordan Sep 2018
I change my shoes and attitude
Some say I hate surprises
Desiring things to stay the same
Anxiety arises

Change a job, a change in age
Change your view or change your tone
The Age of Aquarius turned the page
To change your tune-you’re not alone

Do I fight the change, ignite the change
The change I fear, so hard so cruel
You can win a war yet take the blame
When Yin and Yang begin to duel

Like loose change dropped in a jar
Changing partners, changing clothes
Change my house and buy that car
Bless the highs but curse the lows

Pain and Joy, so intertwined
A change of heart, a change of flight
Accepting wisdom, change my mind
A shift to the left, the change feels right

The change I see, or don’t see comin’
I move in a different direction
Confidently whistling and hummin’  
Too late upon closer inspection

Change for the better or change can ****
Lead in the water has been unfurled
Change means growth-you cannot stand still
Change your position and change the world
Thinking of David Bowie and his song, Changes
2.7k · Oct 2018
I used to have 4 brothers
Terry Jordan Oct 2018
I used to have 4 brothers
And loved them all the same
The eldest used us siblings
For where to lay the blame

Hoping reincarnation
Proves true after a while
Dan said his fondest wish was
Return an only child

Soon I arrived, his sister
Right after Dan turned 2
He fed me peanut butter
Until my face turned blue

Dan denied that he loved me
As kids did, once or twice
But he jumped in to save me
When I fell through the ice

Surviving eighteen months then
My baby crib moved on
I moved to the bottom bunk
My next brother was born

Named for our dad’s Commander
World War II not fearing
Ted was sent to Vietnam
Where he would lose his hearing

Neighbors once thought we were twins
Blond hair and Dad’s blue eyes
Family strife split us apart
Though close in age and size

He can’t hear but does read lips
That bomb, it took its toll
Seems no single moment’s joy
PTSD took hold

Next came Bill when I was 6
AKA “Sweet William”
Boundless joy and endless love
His broad smiles worth millions

When I loved chocolate ice-cream
That was his favorite, too
He is my son’s Godfather
His wise words helped me through

I have no clue what ended
Brotherly affection
Before 2 brothers died he
Cut off real connection

Sam was born prematurely
When I was twelve years old
Spent 5 months incubating
Before we took him home

Our father’s disappointment
Sam never went to college
Didn’t want to play football
Was seeking other knowledge

Sam learned how engines functioned
By disassembling cars
Made candles in the basement
An Eagle Scout-golf star

A heart of gold he suffered
Much doggerel and strife
Alcohol’s what dogged him till
Tragically took his life

Divided family members
I’m actor and spectator
Seeking to forge connections
Reunion instigator

Some gather for funerals
A wedding now and then
I mourn, alone, Dan and Sam
Lament what might have been

Hadn’t been able to finish this piece until I took a long vacation. I still have 2 living brothers, but neither responds to my overtures. One can't hear me, and the other is not speaking.  New Englanders are known for denial and take-it- to-the-grave-grudges.  I guess I really don't want to know why.
2.5k · May 2016
Change
Terry Jordan May 2016
I change my shoes and attitude
But say I hate surprises
Desiring things to stay the same
Anxiety arises

Change a job, a change in age
Change your view or change your tone
The Age of Aquarius turned the page
To change your tune-you’re not alone

Do I fight the change, ignite the change
The change I fear, so hard so cruel
You can win a war yet take the blame
When Yin and Yang begin to duel

Like loose change dropped in a jar
Changing partners, changing clothes
Change my house and buy that car
Bless the highs but curse the lows

Pain and Joy, so intertwined
A change of heart, a change of flight
Accepting wisdom, change my mind
A shift to the left, the change feels right

The change I see, or don’t see comin’
I move in a different direction
Confidently whistling and hummin’  
Too late, upon closer inspection

Change for the better or change can ****
Lead in the water has been unfurled
Change means growth-you cannot stand still
Change our position and change the world
Inspired by David Bowie's 'Changes' lyrics
Terry Jordan Feb 2016
You’re not Pro-life, just Pro-Forced Birth
Despite proclaiming loudly
On signs accusing, “******!"
To one in three women, proudly

You’re not Pro-Life, but Anti-choice
And Anti-women, too
Shutting down Planned Parenthood is
A War on Women’s coup

Your Pro-Birth stance is but a sham
Backwards in time, you’re swimming
Saying Jesus is your Lamb while
Cutting aid for pregnant women

I saw you there, in Salem, too
Pointing, declaring them WITCHES
Burned alive by your testimony
Betraying and damning your SISTERS

My mother used to say self praise
Was not really praise at all
How can you say you’re Pro-Birthers
Causing WIC funding to fall?

The schools that once were funded
Providing breakfast for hungry kids
Was cut-yet congress spends like Spartans
Government sold to the highest bids

Sixty percent of our money
In good ole USA
Goes straight to the military
And I demand a say!

‘Health’ gets only five percent
And ‘Education’ six
Yet that’s where congress goes
To cut funding to the quick

You shut down Planned Parenthood with
Dishonest screams and shouts…
Support Accidental Parenthood-
Is that what you’re about?
I saw a cartoon recently with an elephant holding a big sign declaring "I support Accidental Parenthood".   I just needed to get this out, in response to the people against Planned Parenthood, not even knowing its 100 year history and success at lowering infant mortality, teenage pregnancy, STD's and providing myriad other reproductive healthcare to women, primarily, but men, too.  Families.  It makes no sense, and was not done in past centuries, for government to interfere with women & their doctors in private, complicated healthcare decisions.  Some legislators would even prevent a teenager, ***** by a relative, to get an abortion.  As a nurse for many years, I remember seeing the results of that baby being born-I'll spare you the details.  But it's ignorant and unwarranted for the same ones declaring they'd like government  to get small enough to "drown in a bathtub", continue to interfere in women's reproductive freedom.  Will they want to shut down the VA, too?
2.1k · Nov 2018
Revenge
Terry Jordan Nov 2018
It feels good first
That punch you throw
Powered with adrenalin
Triumph!  you crow

Losing control
Each threat you shout
Driving Emotion prevails
Anger has clout

Primal howling
I  cannot speak
A volatile Damnation
Beneath my feet

A fiend unleashed
A dark winged thing
Wrenching the curtain aside
Madness is king

You’ve crossed the line
There is no doubt
Dimensions of cruelty
Madness wins out

No forgiveness
The devil cheers
Waylaid in selfish desires
Demonic fears

Fear holds its breath
Sardonic gloom
Too turbulent to control
Foreboding doom

Peace is exiled
No looking back
Thrusts of heartless violence
Repression hacked

Paradise lost
Cherished hatred
Surging over boundaries
Nothing sacred

Stuff of nightmares
Robs me of sleep
Letting go with a vengeance
Monster’s relief

I cannot bear
This heavy weight
Id’s inner realm
Desolate hate

Transcendence shows
All states of thought
Each a world unto itself
Not shaken off

Silence that grudge
Revenge aint sweet
It turns back on you like a
Missile seeks heat
Terry Jordan Jan 2016
The Lord is my Shepherd
     PERFECT PROTECTION
I shall not want
    PERFECT SATISFACTION
He maketh me to lie down
    PERFECT REST
In green pastures
    PERFECT NOURISHMENT
He leadeth me
    PERFECT GUIDANCE
Beside the still waters
    PERFECT PEACE
He restoreth my soul
    PERFECT RESTORATION
He leadeth me in the paths of
                                                righteousness,­ for His name's sake                                                     PERFECT WALK
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the  
                                                 shadow of death, I will fear no evil,
    PERFECT CONFIDENCE
For Thou art with me
            PERFECT COMPANIONSHIP
           Thy rod
              PERFECT DISCIPLINE
          And Thy staff
  PERFECT SUPPORT
         They comfort me
   PERFECT CONSOLATION
        Thou preparest a table before me
   PERFECT FELLOWSHIP
       In the presence of mine enemies
   PERFECT TRIUMPH
      Thou anointest my head with oil
  PERFECT STRENGTH
      My cup runneth over
PERFECT JOY
      Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life
                                                 PERFECT   LOVE
And I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
                 PERFECT HABITATION
I found this decades ago, written by the very prolific Ann Onimous, and I get comfort from it & hope someone else does, too.
1.9k · Feb 2016
I Need a Titanium hip
Terry Jordan Feb 2016
I Need a Titanium hip
My old one is losing its grip
That bone spur brings pain
Whenever it rains
I limp just like Chester and slip

Reserve my Titanium hip!
Sign me up don’t give me no lip
I’m sick of the pain
Driving me insane
Til treated with 4 or 5 nips

I’ve got my Titanium hip!
No longer afraid that I’ll slip
My Doctor-so serious!
But I’m quite delirious!
And green tea is all that I sip...
I recommend getting hips replaced-I'm the BIONIC WOMAN now
1.8k · Mar 2016
I Need a Quiet Place
Terry Jordan Mar 2016
I take a deep breath to staunch
That constant clang and clatter
Be still and follow the hunch
Before it’s too late to matter

I need a quiet place
A shift in space, a change in stealth
My next breath can create
Some room to gaze at something else

Soon I must take a break
I can’t settle down or think straight
Wrestling with those demons
I know not the time or the date

Looking back looks so abnormal
Deadly games of Red Rover
Spawning pages from my journals
Replaying over and over

I know not steps to take
On pathways for planting the seed
Peace, her elusive face
Turns away whenever I plead

Time to build that Safe House
Only I have the key to the door
Where peace and bliss abounds
I meet each holy moment and soar

Seek a new vision there
And learn to think more about others
Let go my tormented memories
Seeing All-my Sisters and Brothers

I find that peaceful space
Just to release what I don’t need
Harmony-Beauty-Love
Replaces all my soul has freed

Filling up my Heart Space
As soft as a sweet baby’s kiss
Some name the feeling Grace
I feel a sense of peace and bliss
Fleeting moments of peace while meditating;  staunching the clang & clatter of my monkey-mind.
1.7k · Feb 2016
Invisible Weaving
Terry Jordan Feb 2016
Like an alien in a spotlight
With her magnifying glasses on
My mother as she worked, up all night
Did invisible weaving till dawn

I would watch her when I couldn’t sleep
Honing in on that hole in the suit
Intently, her concentration deep
Weaving tiny threads enlarged like jute

In other-worldly light she labored
I was afraid she’d lose her eyesight
Watching her focus never wavered
Her face all aglow in the lamplight

Invisible weaving, I inquired
How tediously she plied her craft
Worked for the money that she required
Made the warp and weft of fabric last

Reconstruction, undetectable
No more burn, or tear, or fabric blight
Weaving magic so incredible
Its wound now perfect by morning’s light

She taught me much that I'm still making
From her life that now I'm grieving
Sewing, crocheting and great baking
But never invisible weaving

The picture of her life that mattered
I now see how she toiled so finely
And that the wrinkles in the fabric
Of my own life splayed out so blindly

The vision of my eyes bedazzled
Incandescent, her face in the beam
Unaware how her mind unraveled
As depression stole her ev'ry dream

The threads of DNA defining
Who I’ve become I'm now believing
My mother’s hand in that designing
Of my own Invisible Weaving
I was working on this for a while, when I read the Pulitzer Prize winning poem, by C.K. Williams, entitled Invisible Mending.  Same subject, but his metaphor was of forgiveness & redemption, while mine is a little fuzzy, about my connection to my mother...and NOT the winner of a Pulitzer Prize.
1.7k · Mar 2017
The Scent of Regret
Terry Jordan Mar 2017
I have never been without it
The scent of regret surrounds me
Every mistake I ever made
Is the stench that so confounds me

Soaring heights of anxiety
I have never been without it
Not your garden variety
Plaguing much of society

How I long to be free of it
Unrelenting regret believed
I have never been without it
Dry heaving nightmares unrelieved

Trichinosis, lockjaw strangles
My regret knows all about it
Like Joe Btfsplk’s* cloud dangles
I have never been without it
Trying the French quatern form, a 4 x 4 w/ #8 syllables, w/ the 1st line repeated in each verse the way it is done here; no rules about rhyming.
*Al Capp's character w/ a perpetual cloud over his head used to fascinate me as a kid-anyone else remember him-a sad sack with no vowels in his name?
1.7k · Nov 2015
I Am Peter the Apostle
Terry Jordan Nov 2015
I Am Peter the Apostle

Just an illiterate fisherman
Before the Holy Spirit spread
Even my shadow had power
To heal and raise Dorcus from the dead

Jesus called my brother Andrew, too
When we both toiled as fishermen
To follow Him in God’s mission
And learn how to be Fishers of men

I witnessed his transfiguration
Meeting Elijah and Moses
A prelude to Jesus Risen
He knew he faced no bed of roses

Jesus taught me how his days on Earth
All were numbered to the hour
He transfigured on the mountain
I saw His magnificent power

I proclaimed, “You are the Messiah!”
I assure you God loves us all
Angels tapped me on the shoulder
To be witness to His mighty call

I was there when God spoke lovingly
“This is my much beloved son”
I’ve not been telling fairy-tales
In the light of Eternity Won

I was ordained by Jesus Himself
And founded two churches of hope
Spread His message of salvation
To Catholics I’m the very first pope

I am warning you ahead of time
Surprise, like a thief in the night
He’s giving more time for sinners
Who are trying hard to get it right

Believe that day is surely coming
So while waiting for His return
Achieve closer union with God
Holy, Godly lives are your concern

Live without sinning and be at peace
With everyone-it’s not too late
My own eyes have seen His Glory
Let His light dawn in your soul-don’t wait!

Remember I walked on water, too
Following Jesus in His wake
All ungodly men will perish
So follow him, too, for your own sake

Those who fall in love with money
Always doing wrong to others
Beware false prophets who tell lies
Destroy their unrepentant covers

I remind you all so solemnly
Of ***** and Gomorrah’s end
And yet God saved that good man, Lot
And He can rescue you, too, my friend

A man’s a slave to what controls him
“Do what you like, be free”, say men
False teachers are fools, don’t listen
For they really are slaves to their sin

I remind you He came to save us
From the rottenness all around
Demonstrating His character
To the Golden Rule you should be bound

A dog coming back to his *****
Or a pig wallowing again
It’s worse than not to have known Him
For those who turn once again to sin

When a person escapes wickedness
Then tangles up with sin once more
By turning on His commandments
He’ll be worse off than he was before

No woman escapes their sinful stares
They proudly boast of sin, no giving
They’ve gone off the road, useless and doomed
Luring others to wicked living

God delivered us from the old life
Put aside your own desires
Gladly be patient and Godly
Living the good life He requires

He’ll open wide the gates of heaven
You are among those God has called
Into His Eternal Kingdom
I’m reminding you what prophets told

In the last days he warns of scoffers
Who cleverly lie about God
They laugh at the truth when taunting
“Where is he? Why so slow?  He’s a fraud!”

Is His promised return slow for you?
In a day or a thousand years…
To God is just like tomorrow
When Christ our Savior again appears

He’s given us all blessings promised
Let God have His way, not a whim
Find out what God wants you to do
Become fruitful and useful to Him

Yes, I know how I denied Jesus
And recall the rooster crowed, too
Three times I said I don’t know Him
Ask yourself how many times have you?
All I knew about Peter was that he denied Jesus three times, until I read more about him...
Terry Jordan Mar 2016
I heard that David Kavanagh
(So say reliable sources)
Has vacated Hello Poetry
To follow other courses…

He stopped for awhile to graze here
On Hello Poetry
Riding off on Irish horses
Pausing just to speak to trees
Many are sad to see Dave go-I'll miss his poetry & comments.
Terry Jordan Dec 2016
The sirens blared that 4th of July
Officer Duncan gave Mammy a ride
An emergency dash to the hospital
He’s 2 months premature Mammy cried

Deaf, dumb and blind is what the doctors said
To our mother when Sammy was born
But none of us kids ever were told
Until Sammy was stable and grown

Pappy declared that they’d both be fine
Not believing dire news doctors gave
We happily named him Uncle Sam
Trusting in him to be strong and brave

His 1st 5 months in an incubator
Hooked up to every device
In Newton Wellesley Hospital, 1959
A miracle saved his life

Reaching gloved hands through holes in the side
Weighing just a bit over 2 pounds
Looking more like a spindly ET
I was amazed to be hearing breath sounds

Sam worked on doubling his weight by Christmas
Nothing seemed easy or fast
Still Mammy survived the eclampsia
And Sammy went home at last

Returning a few years later
Sammy’s doctor she would find
To show off to all the nurses
Her son NOT deaf, dumb and blind

I so love my brother Sammy
Always felt like a sister and mother
I’d give all I have for the time
Just a minute more with my dear brother

I’d speak to you of those 57 years
Of the great whirligig you carved with your hands
All the times you showed up for me
Through the good and the bad our love stands

You wasted no time hating anybody
Children and dogs always your friends
Quick for a laugh despite any lack
I draw comfort that all your pain ends

The sirens blared once again for you
The ambulance came, the paramedics tried
Racing you trying to save you
All in vain, in the OR you died


Like Tommy’s rock opera is over
Perhaps you paused to speak to a stray dog
While keeping your divine appointment
By reaching right into the hand of God
Just blew out my candle in vigil for Sam, my baby brother, 12 years younger than me.  He died on the OR table as they tried in vain to save him after a tragic accident.  He’s in God’s hands now.  He had a military burial yesterday, the saddest day of my life, in the National Alleghenies veteran's cemetery.  Freezing cold & windy in Pittsburgh.  I so wanted to jump in that hearse and drive him back to Florida, like in the 'Cremation of Sam McGee' poem that I love.  I realize that was just his Earthsuit, and see him smiling in Paradise.
1.5k · Oct 2015
Celebrating Sixty
Terry Jordan Oct 2015
You think it's nifty turning sixty
You even yearn for sixty-five
So you can go on Medicare
At last good healthcare will arrive

Until that year 2020 gets here
Don't miss those moments fleeting
Eat your kale for roughage
To keep that strong heart beating

Uncle Sam will send your social security
So you begin a life so rare
But why wait-retire now
For you can get Obamacare
1.4k · Feb 2016
Dead Branches
Terry Jordan Feb 2016
I dislike Spring pruning
All those dead branches that must be stripped
To bear good fruit, so necessary
I’m no Master Gardener
I’ve made mistakes before, confused
Choosing which ones to cut away
Which ones I should let stay
Make no mistake
With proper pruning the Springtime sun
Magnificently promises
Seemingly spent branches
Flowing silently, secretly with new sap
New buds, fresh leaves and blossoms
And delectable new fruit
Fruit so succulent
Better because of the pruning
May I cut away the dead branches of my life
And may I not mind the pruning
Waiting for the Master Gardener’s promise
1.4k · Jun 2017
I speak to trees and animals
Terry Jordan Jun 2017
I speak to trees and animals
Inspired by passion joy and pain
The Seasons and the Stars
Vibrate as words that fall like rain

Still striving for Deliverance
A wish for ‘Once upon a time'
Then a happy ending
Denying all war, fear and crime

Anthropomorphic expression
Uninhibited Truth unfurled
Language follows a path
The Reader lured into that world

I love the trees and animals
Their mysterious connections
Primitive and ripened
Nature’s animized perfection

Ecstasy carries a poet
The similes, metaphors start
All of nature vibrates
Brought closer to the human heart
This was inspired by how, I imagine, poets relate to nature-or how I do, at least.   Also a mockingbird attacking my old cat outside on the patio today needed a talking to...
1.4k · Mar 2016
Dora the Explorer
Terry Jordan Mar 2016
That day I met her at the Shelter
She said, “My name is Dora",
While hanging upside down, off kilter,
“I’m Dora the Explorer!”
Balanced on the armoire door
Beckoning me to help her retrieve
Hanging high above the floor
A ballet that I couldn’t believe...
Up on one toe she dangled
As she demanded I help her reach
Some toys she longed to wrangle
Until we heard a commanding screech!
“Get down from there!  Wash your hands!
Asia, it’s almost time for dinner!"
Dora leapt-trusting- she lands
Her high-flying act a sure winner!

Oh, Dora, who is Asia?
She said, “I don’t like that name-sorry!
Later let's play a new game?
After dinner my name is Laurie!”
Since she answered to that name
I schooled her in her name’s history
But Dora just wouldn’t be tamed
“Not a CONTINENT-I’m a MYSTERY!”
Asia, alias Laurie Dora
After supper, brushed and scrubbed
Gave the best, my airy explorer-
Dora's monumental hug!
She sprang to my arms without warning
Like a monkey from a vine
I wasn’t aware until morning
It was the best hug of all time!
I met this amazing young girl at the local homeless shelter, and I'm pretty sure she's coping well despite her family's difficulties finding work & a place to live.  They'll stay at the shelter until that's accomplished.
1.3k · Apr 2016
I Wish I Were Not So Cool
Terry Jordan Apr 2016
I wish I were not so cool
When I go to the desert
it turns into icy tundra in seconds
Less cool people stare at me with envy
I can put out fires with a quick glance
If I died, the universe will turn into
A hot desert.
I just found this poem written by my son, Joshua Jordan, when he was 12
Terry Jordan Feb 2016
Long Night Full Moon


You only watch the news to find out
where the fires are burning, which way
the wind is blowing, and whether
it will rain. Forecast ahead but first:
A mother’s boy laid out
in the street for hours.
These facts don’t wash away.
This was the Daily on Poets.org, honoring Black History Month
1.3k · Apr 2016
Abandoned with Bloody Feet
Terry Jordan Apr 2016
I got locked out of the house today
While feeding my cat on the porch
In a bathrobe without my purse
No phone, no key, barefoot of course

So I sprinted to the driveway
Where my man was still backing out
Engrossed in checking his emails
He must have missed my screaming shout

Backed out all the way to the street
His eyes ahead in the early dawn
He didn't see my panicky dance
Off to work, in a flash, he was gone

Despite my last ditch effort
Racing after him down the street
He never looked back, not once
I was abandoned with ****** feet

It's only half past 7am
Time to problem-solve my way inside
Even though I had a ladder to climb
Every lock and bolt let all hope die

That day I spent on the patio
Long and hot it was to be sure
Feeling neglected and left behind
I cried a few tears in a blur

Then I did some overdue yard work
Drank out of the hose like my dog
Relaxed in the hammock instead of lunch
Dozed off in an afternoon fog

Till I found a book on reflexology
I'd been meaning to read for so long
Practiced a few techniques on my cat
And planned how I'd tell Bill he'd done me wrong
true story
1.2k · Dec 2015
Alpha and Me
Terry Jordan Dec 2015
My Mom called me a clever girl
It felt like a slap in the face
She said, “My sister did that, too,
Wrote silly poems and crocheted lace”

Since Alpha, her older sister
Had a bad rheumatic heart
Too weak to help with the farm work
She cooked a little for her part

While Mom, the Swedish farm girl
With a rope tied around her waist
Up at four to reach the barn
Six feet of snow was every place

She had to milk the cows then
It was bone-freezing cold
Her older brother Forrest
Plowed the fields at twelve years old

Their father died and left them
To run the family dairy farm
Soon after Alpha passed on, too
Depression inflicted more harm

That year was 1931
Ancient history one might say
Grandmother never recovered
Her depression years there to stay

Cokato, Minnesota
Who could blame my mom for running
Her mother could not forgive her
Til she installed indoor plumbing

She had run away to Oakland
A California nursing school
Her mother called her *******
And disowning her was cruel

But she was the lone survivor
In her family of five
So she nursed her future husband
After World War II arrived

They married and moved to Boston
The Yankee soldier and farm girl
It was 1950’s suburbs
To my father it was rural

Theirs was such a raucous union
Like a constant fire alarm
That when I could I moved down South
My dream came true-I bought a farm

How history repeats itself
And leaves its own impression
Alpha was reborn as me
But treated for depression
Growing up, My brothers & I heard my mother's stories about growing up on a dairy farm in Cokato, Minnesota.  My grandparents were immigrants from Sweden who had 3 children.  My mother's older sister, Alpha, had rheumatic fever as a young child, which damaged her heart and caused her death at 19.  I think that both my Grandmother and mother suffered from depression most of their lives.  When I started writing poetry as a child, my mother would be dismissive about it, saying that's all her sister Alpha did, other than crocheting and reading, while she & her brother had to do all the  hard work.  And we heard the story about when she tied a rope around her waist to get to the barn, and back, without getting lost in the snow-a million times.  She'd laugh at my interests that were so like her sister Alpha's that I believed I WAS her sister, Alpha, especially since I looked like her, too.   The farm girl & city boy, my parents, were a mismatch, like many who met from different places during the Post-war years.  It sounded romantic, the way she nursed him when he was hospitalized for Malaria in California after WWII.  I just had to try and get it out in this poem...
Terry Jordan Feb 2016
Robin in the rain,
Such a saucy fellow,
Robin in the rain,
Mind your socks of yellow.

Running in the garden
On your nimble feet,
Digging for your dinner
With your long, strong beak.

Robin in the rain,
You don't mind the weather,
Showers always make you gay,
Bet the worms are wishing
You would stay at home,
Robin on a rainy day--
don't get your feet wet,
Robin on a rainy day!
My former kindergarten students performed this... I can hear them still on this rainy day in Florida.
1.2k · Mar 2016
Dear Lord
Terry Jordan Mar 2016
I ask this of you, Lord
In your hands my fate lies
I've wandered in blindness
Please Lord open my eyes

Let your love fill me
Let your love heal me
Don't let life steal me
From your tender love

I prayed to you, Dear Lord
With these sighs my words poured
Please clothe me in your love
And hear your ev'ry word

I was tired and so lonely
My mind broken in shame
Until I was led to
Calling out in your name

Like gardens need water
Oh we reap what we sow
Your light in my path, Lord
Helps me see my faith grow

I feel heartbeats of Spirit
When it holds me so near
It's God's grace that saves us  
And erases all fear

I sing to you dear Lord
Like a child just been born
For love, strength and wisdom
You've been here all along

I let your love fill me
I let your love heal me
I won't let life steal me
From your tender love
1.1k · Oct 2016
My cat writes poetry.
Terry Jordan Oct 2016
My cat likes poetry
She listens attentively to my recitations
I think she might write poetry
I heard her staring outside longingly
Purring mightily, grooving
Transfigured in the morning sun
Her stripes a kaleidoscope of yellows and grays
Keen green eyes on high alert
With flashing intensity through the sliding glass door
Jousting with the mockingbird swooping to peck her head on the patio
Rolling in the catnip bed in triumph
That’s the poem she composes
In the throes of poetic excitement
Inspired by wish and instinct
I've been away for a few months, struggling with life's difficulties, when my cat, Danielle, wrote this for me.  I love my cat, though she ran away after Hurricane Matthew came through....I found her later waiting to get in at the sliding glass door, where she sits every morning.
Terry Jordan Mar 2016
I think that Jimmy Carter
A true and noble man
Should monitor the voting
Check on ballots being scanned
Watch over our elections
The suppression of our votes
Long lines, few polling places
Jimmy Carter, that’s no joke!
I pray that Jimmy Carter will
Monitor our elections
I trust he’ll keep them honest while
We’re making our selections
When there is no paper trail
And lines 5 hours long
Votings not for weak or frail
Be Jimmy Carter strong!
The man can still build houses
Even though he’s 91
Please watch those ballot boxes
Or Democracy is done!
1.1k · Aug 2018
I miss Vicki
Terry Jordan Aug 2018
I miss Vicki
Poetess sublime
Nature is her nurse
She wrote her essence every time

I don’t know why she left
Like Aretha, made me cry
Whatever drove her off
I just want to say good-bye

Her comments-wise, encouraging
With love she shared her best
You’re sorely missed, Dear Vicki
Farewell Dear Poetess
Vicki was so welcoming when I came to HP, and her gift as a poet unsurpassed.  Perhaps she'll get her fine work published.  Namaste, Terry
Terry Jordan May 2017
There was a crooked man
Who had a crooked smile
Secured a crooked Russian loan
With putin on speed-dial

He had 3 crooked marriages
He lives a crooked life
Cheating, lying, self-promoting
Wants Daughter-not his Wife

He “won” a crooked election
Just to steal more money
Investigators fired THREE times
His tantrums are not funny!

He pushed a crooked bill
Despite collective cries
Desperately tweeting diversions
Ignore those Russian ties!

Crooked Sarah Sanders
Smiles as she repeats his lies
Look behind the curtain
Prevent Democracy’s demise

This vile crooked man-child
Lives in a crooked White House
Embarrassing the World
A tweeting presidential louse

A shitstorm pouring out
With bad grammar and no style
Desperately denying collusion
Time to put them all on TRIAL
1.1k · Oct 2015
A Spindly Gumbo-limbo
Terry Jordan Oct 2015
At a streetfair downtown
A 5-dollar coupon in hand
We used to buy a skinny tree
Potted up in an old rusty can

It may have looked less than promising
So leggy and light as a feather
Tentatively thought did it have roots?
Our first purchase we made together

We planted our tree in the yard
That spindly gumbo-limbo
But native to our Florida
It knew just how to grow

Just like I’d envisioned its shade
A canopy against fierce heat
Protecting us from that relentless sun
It’s now grown twenty-five feet

Six years have passed us by now
And risking sounding sappy
We’ve grown, too, as has our love
The tree and we are happy
1.1k · Oct 2015
Going on OK Cupid
Terry Jordan Oct 2015
Facing an empty nest
my son said don't be stupid
use your apple laptop
to go on ok cupid

So i struggled with my profile
uploaded a picture or two
then waited for my soulmate
while stalkers came to view

One said he disliked people
the next, just casual ***...
seeking christy brinkley's
firmed up **** & pecs

Once i was a **** buddy
i swear i never knew it
until he said "meet melody"
that's how i learned i blew it

I'm not greedy, not too needy
so i'll say this right out loud
when it comes to playful ***...
for me 3 is a crowd!

Should i call on carrie bradshaw?
to explain *** in the city?
when samantha found her mr. wright
it ended not so pretty

Once a young man pursued me mightily
with passionate hysteria
until he asked for plane fare
to fly him from nigeria

Who IS that who winked at me?
what does it really mean
a sea of faces scrolling down
a modern mating machine

I digress, most do agree
that our lives flow like a river
but wait...what do i see?
my dream man in my quiver?
True story-a lesson learned!
1.1k · Mar 2017
Like a Loose Cannon
Terry Jordan Mar 2017
trump is lurching like a loose cannon
Denying evidence and logic
he separates language from meaning
When Bait and Switch is his chief project
Those xenophobic fires he’s fannin’
Spatters his word salad recklessly
Like a loose cannon

This conman sold some a bill of goods
With gibberish worse than Tinnitus
Propaganda by steve bannon
An alternate universe naked
Like a loose cannon
This is the Rondine form, with #12 lines- #7 in 1st stanza, #5 in the last; 7th and 12th lines are a refrain from the opening line.  My take on the pressured, incessant, thoughtless speech coming from trump-so embarrassing for our country & dangerous for the whole world.
1.1k · Apr 2017
I think "I Amsterdam"
Terry Jordan Apr 2017
Of course it was the wedding
Bringing us together
With Fabian and Karen
The best wedding ever!

Historic and surprising
In the old Lloyd Hotel
Pre-wedding preparations
For a boat ride so swell

Such patterns and colors
Bricks and concrete so define
The old Lloyd Hotel with
A more modern Dutch design

Our Indonesian dinner
That whirlwind tour by Tor
Through shopping streets-The Nines-while
Sharing his family lore

I stood in line for VanGogh
2 hours of rainy skies
All worth it for the time there
His story made me cry

Splendid gardens on display
Row upon row I gazed
A cacophony of TULIPS
The Keukenhof amazed!

We walked for miles & learned the trains
The week flashed by so fast
I wish that Rose and I took time
To take a yoga class

I'd like my morning coffee
Once more before we part
Finished off with Dutch detail
A great big creamy heart

Loving those calming canals
I might go on the lam
Escape from America
I think "I Amsterdam"
A love-letter to Amsterdam, inspired by giant letters spelling "I Amsterdam" outside the airport there.
Terry Jordan Jan 2017
I saw my brother’s doppelgänger
On the train back from Miami
He boarded and sat down across from me
This twin of my brother Sammy

My friend clutched my arm in amazement
At my sibling’s new twin brother
I stared as if an angel had come
Couldn’t tell one from the other

His 6 foot four frame just like he stood
His look so like Erik the Red
He walked like him, too, I’d swear he was
My brother Sam raised from the dead

Dressed in tall jeans, a casual look
Just like I imagine him, too
With faded red hair, the same age and
The same friendly kind eyes of blue

For those who mourn will be comforted
I prayed hard for more time to gain
To be with my beloved brother
Then an angel walked on that train

He looked at me so tenderly
Pale eyebrows defined a gentle lift
My throat locked up as tears streamed down
Seeing Sam’s doppelgänger, God’s gift
I've been grieving my brother Sammy's passing, less than a month ago, when I experienced this man boarding my train.   He looked so much like him that it took my breath away, so that all I did was stare and cry.  I believe now that he was a gift from God, and that no words were necessary then.  Except this poem, now.
Terry Jordan Oct 2015
It's ninety degrees in the shade back home
And September brings no relief I fear
From sweating and fretting, oh, no, let's go-
We'll be riding on the Rocky Mountaineer

Expecting the best, we heard the "All aboard!"
To the sound of bagpipes whining
Longing to see mountains, trees and streams
But it's for sighting of bears that I'm pining

The meals keep coming-no one stays hungry
With our hostess, Holliday, we haven't a care
By the end of the day we spied osprey, geese and ducks but
When pulling into Kamloops, no one had spotted a bear

A walkabout, then sleeping so deeply
Whisked back on board by our competent crew
I remembered my dream of a bear in a stream
With her cubs-how I wish it comes true

The Monashee Mountains are so peaceful
We spy snow-capped peaks from afar
The leaves on the trees changing gold and red
But rolling into Tumtum still no bear

Soon we crossed the Columbia River
Salmon tantalizing eagles for a bite
While passing through the town of Revelstoke
A family of bears-all plastic-came in sight

"Look out!" came a call from the front of the train
A signal to us who pulled up the rear
We "Red Line" passengers ready with cameras
A false alarm-no bear or moose is near

The Selkirk Mountains promise some glaciers
And Stonycreek Bridge is followed by lunch
The Kicking Horse River showed spirit it's true
But no bears will show up is my hunch

And so surely to see that elusive bear of my dreams
I'll just have to return come next year
Til then I will dream salmon-filled mountain streams
And the all-aboard call of the Rocky Mountaineer
There was a poetry contest on board the train & this won the prize of a gold salmon pin.
963 · Nov 2018
Is it dark inside a poem?
Terry Jordan Nov 2018
Language is the raw material
Transformation into art
Leaping through Alice’s looking glass
Breaking metaphors apart

Is it dark inside a poem
From whence it first sprang
Deeply repressed panic
Without judgment rang

Bringing pressured speech to light
Images of love and pain
Through clearly heightened senses
Uninhibited refrain

Where verbal acrobats spiral
Words on a poet’s page
That remind us and disturb us
In desperate outrage

With the pathos of a clown
On a winding rocky path
Reminders of death’s nearness
Terror spinning with a laugh

Pictures painted with premonitions
An atmosphere heavy in despair
Remnants of previous poets
Are blinding the reader in its glare

Quatrains moving merrily
Using images and tone
Making shapes with language
Shaping irony unknown

With tones bright and beautiful
Its matrix darkly savage
Through visual impressions
The reader’s heart is ravaged

Freedom of imagination
From whimsy to terror can bring
Surprising facetious word-play
Delivering irony’s sting

A psychological awakening
The tenderest love infused with dread
Blazing pathways joyous and dangerous
Irrevocable loss lies ahead

A telling detail without warning
Takes us to disturbing turns
The risky business of being born
Poets’ authority burns

It brings you to your senses
Through supernatural realms
Exploding realization
Its resonance overwhelms

Allusiveness to brutal honesty
It may sometimes misconstrue
In an abyss of isolation cries,
“What else can a poem do?”
Exploring the dark side of poetry, how poets are inspired to write, and how we're all standing on the shoulders of poets who've come before us.  Also in honor of my oldest brother, Dan, who left me one poem before he died called, "Is it dark inside of snowballs?" which I've posted here before.
Terry Jordan Nov 2015
Appreciate a pure sunrise
See all its glory
Yet just before Amazing Dawn
Has its own story

Before you have a choice to make
Turning left or right
First pause to contemplate the spot
Right within your sight

Body language will belie the
Loud clang of false words
Look into a person’s eyes or
Miss the message heard

What makes a brilliant orchestra
Or pastoral scene
The thing defining beauty is
The spaces in between

In the pauses, in the spaces
Feel your resting hearts
Waiting for the curtain rising
Just before it parts

All the spaces in the painting
Give it life and depth
Sea shells overlooked make precious
All the ones you’ve kept

Hold that hole in that sweet donut
Just before it’s dunk
And keep an eye right on the ball
Right before it’s sunk

Anticipating Christmas morn
Or Baby’s first step
The moment he’s still holding on
Right before he leapt

Savor that bite, unopened gift
Mere ghost of a smile
Forget the end, appreciate
Running your last mile
Terry Jordan Apr 2016
Poets to come ! orators, singers, musicians to come !
Not to-day is to justify me and answer what I am for,
But you, a new brood, native, athletic, continental, greater than before known
Arouse ! for you must justify me.

I myself but write one or two indicative words for the future,
I but advance a moment only to wheel and hurry back in the darkness.

I am a man who, sauntering along without fully stopping,
     turns a casual look upon you and then averts his face,
Leaving it to you to prove and define,
Expecting the main things from you.
I love this!  We're instructed by Walt Whitman to "Arouse!  Expecting the main things from you."
892 · Dec 2016
The Holy Instant
Terry Jordan Dec 2016
All I Need is this moment
I will not walk on by
Thirsty by a mountain stream
Without the tears to cry

Denial and delusion
Have not worked out so well
Existing in confusion
Creating my own hell

Love teaches me to really see
What is beneath the surface
Known by the heart but not the eye
Revealing my life’s purpose

In a flash Material World
Gives way, but what is this
A signpost points the way to
A sense of eternal bliss

I am glimpsing sweet moments
In the awakened state
The Holy Instant, satori
Where oneness replaces hate.
Spending time meditating every morning, quieting my monkey mind and listening to God sometimes...
880 · Mar 2017
A Thriving Survivor
Terry Jordan Mar 2017
I am a thriving survivor
Though twice betrayed and abandoned
Often been lied to and cheated
Plutoed*, fired, hired then mistreated
Struggled getting up off the couch
Alienation caused self-doubt
For this thriving survivor

Release all the hurt and slander
To that past I will not pander
Determined to walk through the door
To a life with so much in store
For this thriving survivor
Trying my hand at the Rondine poetic form: #12 lines in #2 verses- with #7 lines in the 1st, #5 lines in the 2nd, consisting of 8-10 syllables for each except the refrain, or repeat of, part of the 1st line.  Awaiting feedback if I got the form right or not.  *demoted
Terry Jordan Nov 2015
Whose woods these are I think I know.  
His house is in the village though;  
He will not see me stopping here  
To watch his woods fill up with snow.  

My little horse must think it queer  
To stop without a farmhouse near  
Between the woods and frozen lake  
The darkest evening of the year.  

He gives his harness bells a shake  
To ask if there is some mistake.  
The only other sound’s the sweep  
Of easy wind and downy flake.  

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,  
But I have promises to keep,  
And miles to go before I sleep,  
And miles to go before I sleep.
One of my favorite poems and, being from New England, the 1st poet I learned to love even as a young child.
Terry Jordan Feb 2016
Some keep the Sabbath going to church;
I keep it staying at home,
With a bobolink for a chorister,
And an orchard for a dome.

Some keep the Sabbath in surplice;
I just wear my wings,
And instead of tolling the bell for church
Our little sexton sings.

God preaches,--a noted clergyman,--
And the sermon is never long;
So instead of getting to heaven at last,
I'm going all along!
"I believe the love of God may be taught not to seem like bears."  __Emily Dickinson, American poet (1830-1886)  I think about Emily writing all her poems all her life, all unpublished until after her death.  A gentle soul yet, in a way, a quiet revolutionary against the status quo of her day.
834 · Oct 2016
Where you go I go
Terry Jordan Oct 2016
We’ve been together 7 years
Blind Faith is all we know
So just like Ruth I speak this truth
Where you go I will go

When struggles made us face our fears
Firm to the winds that blow
That we still elevate our years
With what we reap we sow

I want to live where you live
In harmony and peace
Only you my love to give
Till my last breath will cease

You question love and life
My Dear, you say the bar is low
No need for taking flight
No need to wonder if I’ll go

Much of my past was full
Of change that struck like lightening
Frantic and tense the rule
Unpredictable and frightening

We’ll share more moments together
Even with some push and shove
This sheltering tree I treasure
Basking in our blooming love

I repeat it’s true
With a glad free heart once again
Just to be with you
Is the best place I’ve ever been
Sentimental, I realize, but that's who I am.  I write a special anniversary poem for Bill, and this is what came out for our 7th anniversary-no apologies.
826 · Oct 2015
I Live to Cook
Terry Jordan Oct 2015
I live to cook
Saute and fry
Google a recipe
To bake a flaky pie
Good soup from scratch
Baked stuffed chicken
Tasty and Succulent
My dishes-finger-lickin'!
To keep it fresh
I"m not just *******'
You know this gift from God
Needs The Replacement Kitchen
This was a plea to my man to remodel our very out-dated kitchen...it worked and I love my new kitchen!
819 · Oct 2015
Red Eye of the Scorpion
Terry Jordan Oct 2015
I thought I was Elizabeth
And you were my Robert Browning
While singing songs to my beauty
The relationship was drowning

I saw you look at women
Just like Oedipus Rex
Though I really did enjoy that
Great viagritized ***

You pitched ideas for taking trips
The best those river cruises
Instead you led me up a creek
A ****-buddy with bruises

That moon, those stars
Once your hand stirred my mind
Forming a constellation
Tracing lips that were blind

My wide smile like a child
Reaching you without fright
Escaped with a flesh wound
Your lair in the night

So casually said,
"Just a tentative tie"
Rocking my senses
Like a stick in the eye

Red eye of the scorpion
Shiny and bright
A user abuser
Sherry was right!
Lesson learned-I should have noticed the mechanical toy scorpion he played with, its red eyes flashing as he spun it around the room...
Terry Jordan Oct 2015
I want to be like Rachael Ray
Not for money or fame but because
I'd deliver my perfect eggplant parmesan
To great enthusiastic applause

I'd like to slice an onion, too
Just like the smiling Rachael does
Or complete a sweet peach cobbler
To the sound of ooh's and aah's

You don't have to weep with joy often
Over last night's chocolate mousse batch
Just put your hands together, can't you?
To deliver that 5-minute clap

I know it sounds quite arrogant
Desiring such full appreciation
But that feeling keeps washing over me
Wanting accolades for my creations

Just once as I set dinner on the table
They all inhale in admiration
While they leap to their feet spontaneously
To give me my standing ovation!
Terry Jordan Oct 2015
We camped at the Wanee Festival                                        
                                 We came to hear Gregg Allman play
                                 We did some primitive camping
                                  But the stage was 3 miles away
                                                            ­
                                  Through the woods we walked in the darkness
                                  After Widespread Panic had played til midnight
                                   No shiny pebbles and no flashlight
                                   To help us back to our Primitive Campsite

                                    We were Hansel and Gretel just groping
                                    Night fell a long time ago
                                    We had no reference point, no direction
                                    Only darkness and fear could grow

                                    We walked all 1800 acres
                                    Of Live Oak's Suwannee Music Park
                                    Til we flagged down some park rangers
                                    Who gave us a ride home in their cart

                                    I'm just lost in the woods without you
                                    Though we started it all as a lark
                                    You left me stranded by the port-o-potties
                                     Paralyzed all alone in the dark
                                                          
                                     Forget about those cold showers
                                And no power to call or text
                                      Or the cold, and blow-up mattress blues
                                       Are we ready for 'Burning Man' next?
True story-great music but got so lost, slept very little in a leaking blow-up mattress; now he's planning to go to Burning Man!
794 · Dec 2016
Dead Branches
Terry Jordan Dec 2016
I dislike Spring pruning
All those dead branches that must be stripped
To bear good fruit, so necessary
I’m no Master Gardener
I’ve made mistakes before, confused
Choosing which ones to cut away
Which ones I should let stay
Make no mistake
With proper pruning the Springtime sun
Magnificently promises
Seemingly spent branches
Flowing silently, secretly with new sap
New buds, fresh leaves and blossoms
And delectable new fruit
Fruit so succulent
Better because of the pruning
May I cut away the dead branches of my life
And may I not mind the pruning
Awaiting the Master Gardener’s promise
John 15:1-8  Or see your broken perceptions as branches pruned from the vine…so that your fruitful thoughts can gain nourishment from the vine.
774 · Dec 2016
Christmas is Love.
Terry Jordan Dec 2016
It can’t be bought or sold
It never grows too old
It’s hearing an old song
A friend who’s long since gone
A clear star in the sky
A baby’s first shrill cry
It’s never losing hope
Though in the dark you *****
It comes just to remind us
Of all that is behind us
It’s all we see and feel
Christmas is very real
I wrote this for my Christmas cards many many years ago, and Love is only in the title.
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