life: acoustic & amplified

poetry, quotes & thoughts about life

hanging in this green moment πŸ’š Β 


From Jen Lemen πŸ’š sign up for Soul Snacks

πŸ’šπŸ’šπŸ’šπŸ’šπŸ’šπŸ’šπŸ˜ŠπŸ˜ŠπŸ’šπŸ’šπŸ’š


There was a sentence halfway written.

There was a thumbprint ridged in ink.

There was a crease in sheaved paper.

There was a ring left from the drink.

There was a chair turned, facing outwards.

There was a door hung from its hinge.

There was a drop that wasn’t water.

There was a dog that knew to cringe.

There was tall grass, dazed and listing.

There was dirt sporing the air.

There was a quiet cleft by birdsong.

There was ragged breathing, barely.

There’d been a plan, the traces told it.

There was a shovel in the back.

There were gloves and tape and sibilant teeth.

There were constraints that held them fast.

There was no way they would believe her.

There was no cold hand that made fists.

There’d be floodlit eyes for every move

And no coming back from this.
Sing, stolid choir of objects, eyeless and aghast,

of a world that came to stay.

Add to your claythroat concord what lies in a hole

that took all day.

If an account remains ungiven,

if the seams close sheer and smooth,

if God’s own mind forgets, this time,

a scene will bear the truth. 

🌾

-Matthew Caldwell
Scene – Matthew Caldwell

Suddenly I saw the cold and rook-delighting heaven

That seemed as though ice burned and was but the more ice,

And thereupon imagination and heart were driven

So wild that every casual thought of that and this

Vanished, and left but memories, that should be out of season

With the hot blood of youth, of love crossed long ago;

And I took all the blame out of all sense and reason,

Until I cried and trembled and rocked to and fro,

Riddled with light. Ah! 

when the ghost begins to quicken,

Confusion of the death-bed over, is it sent

Out naked on the roads, as the books say, and stricken

By the injustice of the skies for punishment?

⚑️

The Cold Heaven by W. B. Yeats

Floating here 

some three thousand miles off Portugal

I hang in your green,

breath held, limbs still, 

ears just under water,

feet pointing down into mystery.

The sea in my veins 

is so close to you,

blood of the planet I throb in.

In your silence I feel the crashing 

of waves in my heartbeat,

the wind in and out 

when I come up to breathe.

It may look just barely

but I feel so alive.

You have no ill will

yet I know if I breathe wrong

you will take me. 

This far north your hands are cold, 

your lips are cold.

Still I float in your womb 

and you say

β€œI will hold you.”

Sitting in my umbilical prayers I hear you.

Mountains and deserts say this, too.

And beside a little white church

on a North Dakota prairie

a plot of ground, 

surrounded by family names,

says as well,

β€œI will hold you.” 

I hear you. 

I hang here in this green moment. 

__________________ 

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

http://www.unfoldinglight.net


My heart is green

with the fuzz of springtime growth

borning life again

from the rich, bloody soil

it throbs anew
My mind is blue

as the sky in sunshine

then

like the night full of stars and glittering tears

it diamond sparkles 
My life is orange

as flames in a forest 

fire

breathing the wind 

it grows wild
My love is red

there is no hiding it

passion

real as anything

it woos pilgrims
My touch is gold

hands, lips on wounds

aching

for velvet skin, shared breath

it heals all
My soul is pearl

creamy and warm

welcome

to all who come

it opens hearts
My word is platinum 

I seek only truth

wisdom

life with integrity 

it unlocks doors
My work is emerald

deep as the world

brilliant

full of riches

it creates wealth
My legacy is silver

of the finest made

pure

all about me

all about You

πŸ’š

Amy Lloyd (AL)



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