If you’re looking for a book that you can give to teenagers that will start discussions, consider Reaching Out, by Alan H. Jordan. The unique thing about this book is that many of the poems in it were inspired by artwork that is displayed within it.  Other poems contain links to artwork that’s displayed in museums.

Like Ellen Hopkin’s work, Jordan’s poetry is brash at times. Unlike Hopkins, the entire book is not related to a single theme.  Instead, it uses photographs and artwork as a stepping stone to discuss issues that impact upon teenagers.

Semi-controversial subjects abound within it’s pages.

Here’s an example of a poem that’s written to an illustration by Daniel Donnelly entitled The Empress.

Changing Focus

My life:
Complicated
Complex
Celebratory
Creative

Data
People
Personnas
Colors
Stream through me.

Blue to green
Green to gold
Red to pink
Pink to pale white

Cycles fade
Dissolve
Destroy
Germinate.

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My rating: 4 of 5 stars
For the most part this book is a conversational discussion of many complicated concepts such as black holes, Quantum Mechanics, Quantum Gravity, and Sting Theory. There are times when it finds itself a bit long-winded. At times I get tired of Susskind blowing his own horn. There are times when I don’t quite follow the explanations, but on the whole it has helped me to appreciate many concepts through the use of analogy.

I’ve decided to quote from portions of this book for Harmony123. Example:
“What is it that takes a fringe idea, something that may have lain dormant for years and abruptly tips the scale in its favor? In Physics it often happens without warning. A crucial, dramatic event suddenly catches the attention of a critical mass of physicists and within a short time, the bizarre, the fantastic, the unthinkable becomes the ordinary.”

I’ll be using some of the information in the book as the motivation for certain characters in the Harmony123 books.

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For the most part this book is a conversational discussion of many complicated concepts such as black holes, Quantum Mechanics, Quantum Gravity, and Sting Theory. There are times when it finds itself a bit long-winded. At times I get tired of Susskind blowing his own horn. There are times when I don’t quite follow the explanations, but on the whole it has helped me to appreciate many concepts through the use of analogy.

I’ve decided to quote from portions of this book for Harmony123.  Example:
“What is it that takes a fringe idea, something that may have lain dormant for years and abruptly tips the scale in its favor? In Physics it often happens without warning. A crucial, dramatic event suddenly catches the attention of a critical mass of physicists and within a short time, the bizarre, the fantastic, the unthinkable becomes the ordinary.”

I’ll be using some of the information in the book as the motivation for certain characters in the Harmony123 books.

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Or is it me looking at
Your imagery.  Who is
The Guardian of the Secret?

Maybe I need to glance left
at Male and Female
Notice the blackboard
With math that will
Wait forever
To be summed
Like a Grecian urn
Described by Keats, or
Maybe I just need to
Pay more attention to
Those kites
If that’s what they are.

Inspired by several Jackson Pollock paintings that I saw displayed in the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art while the 75th Anniversary exhibit was on display, June, 2010.
(http://www.sfmoma.org/exhibitions/401)

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That’s the beauty of
painting: One moment later
the light can change.

In fact it must.

I choose to believe
the blue splotches
the brown stigmata
will fade and
she will wander into
A world of warmth
And Bonazi when we
Meet the woman in profile
in full view

Inspired by several paintings that I saw displayed in the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art while the 75th Anniversary exhibit was on display, June, 2010.
(http://www.sfmoma.org/exhibitions/401)

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(of Felix Gonzalex-Torres)

One could consider it
A different form of
gold beads.

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Music and Art Flow Through My Soul

The eye of my mind is always watching
My hands moving, even when still
Playing the keyboard of life
Developing harmonies
Even while I am in a business meeting

Business, properly approached, is art
Corporate gray
Placed over passionate purple
Stimulated by the golden sounds of music

My soul needs it all:
An intimate violin piece
Jazz on a piano and
Yes
Blowing my own horn.

Inspired by http://baswaijers.com/self-promos/#1
Copyright 2010 by Alan H. Jordan.  All Rights Reserved.
Written for the collection Poems in the Key of Life.
Add a comment if you would like to know when this book is available.

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We meld, exchange philosophy

This venerable being and me

Placing my hands on the sequoia,

I feel

the vitality of its life pulse

the presence of inner peace

it’s willingness to help heal me—offered without request

Wisdom.  Thousands of years of wisdom.

I offer

an image of myself

whatever it wants from me

It accepts

something

feels renewed, reaffirmed

I understand

we are one, now, yet separate.

we sense through each other’s souls

both better for it.

He taught me to

stand straight

proud, yet flexible

warm my spine

directing my blood

identify true goals

cast off forced images.

She taught me the beauty of

staying still
while traversing the universe
viewing the world

through the eyes of others

communication

without words

communion

between species

If I never touch another Redwood again

it matters not.

I am part of the matrix

aware and enriched forever, and

This is just the beginning.

Originally published in Mobius, The Poetry Magazine, 2005 Edition.
Copyright 2005 by Alan H. Jordan.  All Rights Reserved.

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Please see the post Essay on a Beautiful Meadow. I thought I’d share some of my revisions with you.  I still consider this first draft.  In this case, I wrote the copy in Microsoft Word and pasted it into FastPencil.  I’ve also written material in FastPencil first, and then copied it into Word documents. In this particular post, I’m showing you how the FastPencil revision tool lets me compare and contrast changes.

Compare Revisions

Showing differences in Butterflies
between revision 3 by lbcreative created less than a minute ago
and revision 2 by lbcreative created 19 minutes ago.

Additions are highlighted with green , deletions with red.

The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough.

- Rabindranath Tagore

Universe  7. A field.

When she materialized, Lea found herself looking atadmiring thousands of monarch butterflies alighting on trees in a field, and she smiled.field; a radiant smile filled her face, converting her somewhat angular features into a work of beauty that would have inspired Michelangelo. “I’ve missed you all,” she unconsciously whispered, more to herself than to the butterflies. The butterflies said nothing.  Her presence, apparently, went completely unnoticed.  The next moment, the butterflies were gone.  Had she dreameddreamt them?

She doubted that she was in Monterrey, the weather was too cool.As a child growing up near Monterrey, California the annual coming of the monarch butterflies thrilled her. Now, that pleasant memory overrode the fear and trepidation that she would normally feel from being transported away from her nurses’ desk to a field in the middle of . . . The middle of who knows where.  The antiseptic smell of a hospital ward was gone.  Realizing that she was wearing the black- leather purse/backpack that she had donned because she was getting ready to go off shift, she took out a pen and diary and started to write.  She wrote slowly andat first:  “The stringent smell of antiseptics has been replaced by the sweet smell of a meadow that is perfectly round as if someone had intentionally created the flawless circle, tearing out the trees but leaving non evidence of that violence in the waving grass.”

The speed ofShe started to write rapidly, perhaps at four to five times her normal writing increases, it isspeed, yet every word, every letter was perfectly formed and easily visible. It’s like she isI’m recording God’s word, acting as a conduit, but she knows that theword. But I know these thoughts she isI am scribing are uniquely hers,mine. “To the east, there is a stream bubbling quietly. The meadow is so stunning with the sunlight that I can only see through the cracks between the trees over my head. It is beautiful and serene. The trees are so tall that it’s necessary to lie down on the wavy grass just to see the top. I run my hand over the tall wet grass.  It  tickles the tips of my fingers.   The smell of the meadow is fresh and sweet which relaxes me.   There are two huge rocks by a lake suitable to sit on.”

Lea walked over to the rocks.  She sat down on them, and continued writing, “the rhythm of my footprints started to numb by mind. As I gazed over the magnificent view of the huge valley that lay before me, I can see a beautiful lake that glittered in the sunlight.
At a distance, that only could be seen when I squinted my eyes. I can see a huge, beautiful waterfall that is crashing down into a long river which caused it to make foam.

Above my head, I can hear birds singing happily as they fly to their nests. Slowly, it turned dark until I could not see my hand in front of my face. I lay down on my back, wild flowers all around me as I can see millions of tiny stars in the sky. Tonight the moon is twice the size than I ever seen it before. I can hear owls hooting in the distance. I am relaxed.”

The next morning she awoke, and finished her diary entry, “I fell asleep faster than I thought I would in my beautiful meadow. I thanked God for bringing me here . . .”[1] Then, as Lea recalled watching the doctor disappear, pink mist enveloping both him and herself. She thought, ‘WhatWhat about my family? What about my 2-year old Emily, my husband Robert, my sister Hannah?’Hannah?

Her mind jumped to the third floor of the South Meadows campus of Reno’s Renown Hospital.  In the distance, she saw a window that looked out on the parking lot that lead to Double R. Bar Street. Doctor Joel Kismentis, was looking straight at her, wondering what was happening to both of them.

Where am I am? What I am doing here? What’s next? The thoughts fluttered through her subconscious, and surfaced in the very front of her brain. It made no sense, so she bent down and though Lea did not think of herself as a particularly religious person, she did the only thing she knew to do, “Dearpray. She closed her eyes, clasped her hands together, took three deep breaths. Although she did not see them, she smelled lilacs. Dear God, Thank you. Thank you for giving me this peace, this serenity.  Thank you for allowing me to recapture the joy, the passion of my childhood.  If only, Dear God, if only you could bring me my Emily, my Robert, my Hannah.  Dear God, with them, I could start over.  Please, Dear God, please.  If you do this for me, I will . . . .” and her prayers were answered. ThereShe opened her eyes when she heard a soft popping sound and there before her, three separate areas of pink mist evaporated to reveal three bewildered were Emily, Robert, Hannah and strangely enough, Dr. Kismentis.people: Emily, Robert, Hannah and strangely enough, Dr. Kismentis.Hannah,. Thank you, God! Thank you. Perhaps a tenth of a second passed and Lea thought Oh, My God, What have I done?

[1] http://www.123helpme.com/view.asp?id=156018.  (Used with permission granted with attribution.)

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