life: acoustic & amplified

poetry, quotes & thoughts about life

Archive for the category “Dreams”

end of an era

No man is an island, 

 

 Entire of itself; 

 

 Every man is a piece of the continent,  

 

 A part of the main.  

 If a clod be washed away by the sea, 

 

 Europe is the less, 

 

 As well as if a promontory were: 

 

 As well as if a manor of thy friend’s 

 

 Or of thine own were.  

 Any man’s death diminishes me, 

 

 Because I am involved in mankind. 

 

 And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; 

 

 It tolls for thee. 

No man is an island by John Donne

Wild Nights – Wild Nights!

Were I with thee

Wild Nights should be

Our luxury!
Futile – the winds –

To a heart in port –

Done with the compass –

Done with the chart!
Rowing in Eden –

Ah, the sea!

Might I moor – Tonight –

In thee!
*

Wild Nights—Wild Nights! (249) by Emily Dickinson


Good-bye
A woman with a scarf over her head hoists her six-year-old up onto the first step of the school bus. “Good-bye,” she says.
A father on the phone with his freshman son has just finished bawling him out for his poor grades. There is mostly silence at the other end of the line. “Well, good-bye,” the father says.
When the girl at the airport hears the announcement that her plane is starting to board, she turns to the boy who is seeing her off. “I guess this is good-bye,” she says.
The noise of the traffic almost drowns out the sound of the word, but the shape of it lingers on the old man’s lips. He tries to look vigorous and resourceful as he holds out his hand to the other old man. “Good-bye.” This time they say it so nearly in unison that it makes them both smile.
It was a long while ago that the words God be with you disappeared into the word good-bye, but every now and again some trace of them still glimmers through.

 

~Frederick Buechner originally published in Whistling in the Dark and later in Beyond Words


I’ve been thinking about this for a while. Today is the day. As this blog ends I am so grateful for these past years. 

I will creating new things. I believe in poetry….it is foundational in my life and healing. 

I will do at least one last post to redirect those interested to my new spaces in the world. 

I leave you with a most exciting quote from my friend Peter Block: 

Every time we walk into a room the future walks in with us!  

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imagine  

there is wonder 

in the shape of things

magnificence in patterns 

grace in the traced template 

outlining perfection

or a the very least, 

mind boggling excellence 

there is magic in a great shape

simply exquisite how I love things so much

my imagination immediately begins to conjure up favorite selections:

cotton candy clouds reorganizing in mid air

ferns unfolding into majestic fans for kingly trees

leaves dancing to grounded drum beats

random pieces of nature shaped into hearts

thick glass 6 oz icy coke bottle being pulled from the clanging machine

cupcakes with perfect frosting being deconstructed one finger swipe at a time

the outline of a baby cheek sleeping on the shoulder of the young man in front of you

Rama Desai’s sunshiny-yellow house, complete with porch chalk dragons

the most perfect button I’ve ever seen on a belly…

the fingers of my imagination slowly touching each one

lingering on you

my mind takes me into other worlds

cinema of beautiful shapes

wealth of living awareness

well beyond limits 

riches of the mystic 

always ready when I push play

stories to be shared

neighbors 

friends

family

lovers

each continuing at their own pace

💞

Amy Lloyd (AL)



check out Rama’s blog at: 

https://ramaink.wordpress.com




chances are something you give yourself. – The Universe (TUT)

It was a long time ago. 

I have almost forgotten my dream. 

But it was there then, 

In front of me, 

Bright like a sun- 

My dream. 

And then the wall rose, 

Rose slowly, 

Slowly, 

Between me and my dream. 

Rose until it touched the sky- 

The wall. 

Shadow. 

I am black. 

I lie down in the shadow. 

No longer the light of my dream before me, 

Above me. 

Only the thick wall. 

Only the shadow. 

My hands! 

My dark hands! 

Break through the wall! 

Find my dream! 

Help me to shatter this darkness, 

To smash this night, 

To break this shadow 

Into a thousand lights of sun, 

Into a thousand whirling dreams 

Of sun!

As I Grew Older by Langston Hughes

It’s a story as old as time itself

Girl meets boy

There they go

Falling in love
It’s an ending no tale wants to tell

Girl and boy

Drifting farther 

And farther apart
Now she lives in the house of broken dreams

pictures fade 

Time stands still

All the shadows standing in their places

Cracks appear

Clock feebly striking on through the gloom

As the tears fall down her face
It’s all just the way it all was then

Just the same as the day when life broke 

30 years ago

although lots of things have gathered

 into every available surface and corner

Dust falls down

Settling on fading glitter

Grime on glass 

Fogging up the window panes 

mold grows free 

covering years of freeform piles

She still smiles that painted smile

You can’t see the lonely spaces

when you meet her on the street

Life moves on and on without her

It’s illusion that you see
Because she lives in the house of broken dreams

pictures fade 

Time stands still

All the shadows standing in their places

Cracks appear

Clock strikes weakly at each hour

As the tears fall down her face
It’s the ending no reader wants to read

Girl and boy

Drifting farther 

And farther apart

until he leaves

and she fights 

to get something she can keep forever 

as she always dreamed it would be
Never letting go

Never moving on 

It’s the hardest part

Nobody wants to read this ending

This extreme dirty secret behind estate gates

stone lions eternally guarding 

heartbreak frozen in time

hoarding only she can stop

💨

Amy Lloyd (AL)

If you have a dream, don’t just sit there. Gather courage to believe that you can succeed and leave no stone unturned to make it a reality.

– Roopleen

“I have a firm belief in this now, not only in terms of my own experience, but in knowing the experiences of other people. When you follow your bliss, and by bliss I mean the deep sense of being in it, and doing what the push is out of your own existence—it may not be fun, but it’s your bliss and there’s bliss behind pain too.
“You follow that and doors will open where there were no doors before, where you would not have thought there’d be doors, and where there wouldn’t be a door for anybody else.
“. . . And so I think the best thing I can say is to follow your bliss. If your bliss is just your fun and your excitement, you’re on the wrong track. I mean, you need instruction. Know where your bliss is. And that involves coming down to a deep place in yourself.”
Joseph Campbell, “The Hero’s Journey”


exposé   


It’s happened 

time and time again…

yet this time more so 

than anything, 

capital…ANYTHING…

ever before. 

don’t you think it’s strange,

how a shared pancake can be life changing?

it was the opposite of the final straw. 

it was the catalyst for the rising curtain of the beginning,

starting a chain reaction of Biblical proportion,

a new free-fall dive 

into the inner deep,

silence tearing up the very foundations 

of the ocean floor,   

of this life lived on the dangerous edges

of the radical cliffs of self-examination. 

Seven days of seismic eruption 

creating volcanic activity so great 

that dreams, 

long gestating in the souls womb,

burst forth – 

born, 

ready to scream in their own voice, 

into this wonderful world. 

as if no longer able to remain

hidden inside their clay container. 

Seven days so extraordinary 

they have changed my world

as I have always known it. 

uncovering the naked bones of my foundation,

exposing the shadowy villains of my learned weaknesses,

giving me new strength to heal those newly uncovered, 

rotted, shattered places.

in this place of my own choosing

I walk, choosing to be soft, 

in spite of the gripping fear. 

I choose vulnerability as my guide forward, 

into the fury of places I have long avoided. 

somehow, all of this,

including not knowing much of things 

I dearly wish I knew,

brings me hope for the brilliant future 

of this long-awaited life,

no longer holding back

but fully, wholly, inhabited,

at this current phase of growth,

as it should be

when we fall completely,

head over heels,

in love. 

🔥

Amy Lloyd (AL)



portals 


The breezes at dawn have secrets to tell you

Don’t go back to sleep!
You must ask for what you really want. 

Don’t go back to sleep!
People are going back and forth

across the doorsill where the two worlds touch,

The door is round and open
Don’t go back to sleep!

    – Rumi


Your secret plan

You work in me powerfully 

revealing stone by stone

Your kingdom within

Deep calling to deep

I am the eternal explorer

ever changing 

ever learning

ever exfoliating 

ever new born

ever new adventures

ever thresholds of becoming 

ever doorways slightly open

revealing what they reveal

usually just a glimpse

ever fog veiling or

unveiling the next stair on the ever-circling staircase

Your calling is for keeps

unrelenting passion

till the cows come home

till the fat lady sings

and the stars go blue

ever calling me higher

to be my best self

It’s a wonder I can’t easily explain

It’s really all wonder

It’s not my natural way

to keep freely stepping into this magnificent way

to freely surrender my stubborn heart to love

but I have no choice

I have been shown love beyond my humble understanding 

I can only stumble imperfectly

but wholeheartedly

 in my attempts 

to respond

I do it all for love

💞

Amy Lloyd (AL)


corporate memories


I have known the inexorable sadness of pencils,

Neat in their boxes, dolor of pad and paper weight,

All the misery of manilla folders and mucilage,

Desolation in immaculate public places,

Lonely reception room, lavatory, switchboard,

The unalterable pathos of basin and pitcher,

Ritual of multigraph, paper-clip, comma,

Endless duplicaton of lives and objects.

And I have seen dust from the walls of institutions,

Finer than flour, alive, more dangerous than silica,

Sift, almost invisible, through long afternoons of tedium,

Dropping a fine film on nails and delicate eyebrows,

Glazing the pale hair, the duplicate grey standard faces. 
*

Dolor by Theodore Roethke




photos found @ http://www.pinterest.com

you got this…





It won’t matter that 10,000 doors might be slammed in your face because when door number 10,001 flies open, revealing pathways of jade and gardens of love, with flowers dancing, fountains sparkling, friends blushing, moonbeams glowing, and abundance abounding, you’ll completely forget about all the other doors. 
Happens every day, 

    The Universe


LOVE seeing this quote of mine as inspirational art!!! Soooo grateful to John Cool-Sign! Check out his Etsy store, thatcoolsign, for all the yummy stuff!!

https://www.etsy.com/shop/thatCoolSign?ref=search_shop_redirect&show_panel=true

magical moments 



Look, your longing swung from the trapeze.

The clown is you as well and the tame tiger

who begs for mercy calls someone to mind.

Even the tin-pot music

has its charm; it seems

you’re starting to make peace

with your times

(everyone else has,

why not me? —you say).

So why then does the circus tent

rise above an ancient graveyard?

🎪

Circus by Adam Zagajewski

Translated by Clare Cavanagh


  
I didn’t intend to eat my

Chocolatini until last…

It was my shooting star!

My most special-to-look-forward-to,

my magic bullet,

my favorite,

intention for the ending of the box.

Saved.

Cherished.

Savored.

Longed for.

But then,

I finished my book.

I finished reading

The Night Circus,

and my chocolatini is the closest thing

I could find to a chocolate mouse

to celebrate with!

What a cool book!

I have not read a novel for a long time,

have not found one that captured me in years…

until now.

No hesitation with my truffle choice today –

it was the best show of respect,

and gratitude to stories,

to writers,

to imagination,

I could give.

The circus arrives without warning…

the circus of dreams…

and we are swept away by the very taste of it…

🎪

AL


  


  

I just went to the circus for the first time last night

My super-secret-surprise

Was awesome!

I’ve always wanted to go!

I wonder what I would have felt as a child

I was so sensitive

I think I would have closed my eyes

And cried

I almost felt like that at age 45

I’m glad you held my hand

 

It was

The ultimate show of over consumption

A spectacular spectacle

A mix-match of the brilliant and the bizarre

Awesome and cheesy all wrapped to go

From beginning to end

Never taking a breath

Pounding and pounding

The ringmaster

Ablaze with rhinestones

The acrobats and the clowns

The elephants and the tigers

Horses

(Doing tricks

They didn’t seem to really enjoy)

As they steal the show!

Animals are amazing!
I love trapeze artists flying so high

The bearded lady and the wild man of Borneo

Made honorable mention

With a clown act

That was tongue in cheek

in our PC era of art
Men balancing women

And women balancing men

Each showing their skill

As they contort their bodies

into abnormal positions

sequined outfits

shining in the lights

Motorcycles in a steel ball

4, 5, 6, 7

until it is a blur

how can they do that?

Meetal Man (we renamed him Meatball man)

Holding up astounding weights

As people pile on top of people

On top of him

Trampolines, glitter

Pirates, stilts, dancing beautiful girls

Dancing lion suits

With two people rolling in harmony

under more people in lion suits

more and more

too much to see

too much to process

too much to comprehend

my eyes trying to go 2, 3, 4…different directions

as it plays on and on

with tired children crying

and spilling snowcones

and popcorn

as the parents

(Many a freak-show themselves)

try to ignore them

 

It is spectacular

Breathtaking

Overwhelming

Slightly disturbing at times

A Mix of over-blown showmanship

and

amazing talent

The beautiful and the weird

All mixed together

Delivered at breakneck speed

With so much energy it wears out the eyes

And my mind

Which definitely can’t comprehend it all
I loved it…

and I wanted to run away…
Yes, this is the legacy

of what PT Barnham had in mind

This is the circus!

Magic

Slight of hand, smoke and mirrors, lights and flash

making everything more

brilliant than it could possibly be

This is definitely, over the top, big-top

Self declared…

but it still could be true…

…the greatest show on earth!

🎪

AL

  

  

find art sources at http://www.pinterst.com

do or do not….there is no try    – Yoda  

 

 I want to be the song, a poem

I don’t want to play the record

Perch behind the lens

Hold the pen.

I want to be the song

Live the photo

Experience the novel.

Enough interpreting my existence.

Enough searching for the symbol, the reflection, the meaning.

I am resonant, alive, pulsing

One.

Treble and bass.

Light and shadows.

Beginnings and endings.

All of it.

I want to be the song.

Beating, polyrhythmic, harmonious.

The lyrics my prayers.

I want to live the photo.

Still, present, vibrant.

The image my essence.

I want to experience the novel.

Aching, poignant, truth.

The plot my story.

I want to be alive.

Color, beauty, heart-break.

Engaged, awake, heart-felt.

In awe.

Longing.

Loving.

💞
Spread the Love

Eloiza Jorge

💞

click on the photo below to go to Eloiza’s blog Deepening Wisdom

https://deepeningwisdom.wordpress.com/2012/07/08/i-want-to-be-alive/img_1833/

 

 There comes a time when nothing is meaningful except surrendering to Love. Do It!
💞

  – Rumi

  
 Your great mistake is to act the drama

as if you were alone. As if life

were a progressive and cunning crime

with no witness to the tiny hidden transgressions. 

To feel abandoned is to deny 

the intimacy of your surroundings. Surely, 

even you, at times, have felt the grand array; 

the swelling presence, and the chorus, crowding 

out your solo voice. You must note

the way the soap dish enables you,

or the window latch grants you freedom. 

Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity. 

The stairs are your mentor of things

to come, the doors have always been there

to frighten you and invite you,

and the tiny speaker in the phone

is your dream-ladder to divinity.
Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease  

into the conversation. The kettle is singing

even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots

have left their arrogant aloofness and

seen the good in you at last. All the birds 

and creatures of the world are unutterably 

themselves. Everything is waiting for you.

Everything is Waiting for You

 EVERYTHING IS WAITING FOR YOU by David Whyte

 Excuse me while I kiss the sky. 
Pardon me while I hug the moon. 

Forgive me while I dance with the ocean. 

Give me a minute while I laugh with the stars. 

Hold your horses while I sing to the angels. 

Patience, my old friend, while I make love to the world. 

Get some rest while I fly the skies with the eagles. 

Count some sheep while I paint a masterpiece with Mother Nature. 

Then… 

Come lay down beside me and hold me. 

caress my skin with lovers hands. 

whisper secrets my soul longs to hear. 

sing to me softly. 

kiss me like the butterflies. 

while I love you forever 

and ever,

we fall asleep together 

every night,

and I wake to see the face I love every morning. 

Sweet dreams, my love. 

good night. 

🌙

AL

  
 

photos found at http://www.pinterest.com 

everyday hero

  
Quote of the Day: Virtue 
Next to the seven deadly sins, the seven cardinal virtues are apt to look pale and unenterprising, but appearances are notoriously untrustworthy.
Prudence and temperance, taken separately, may not be apt to get you to your feet cheering, but when they go together, as they almost always do, that’s a different matter. The chain smoker or the junkie, for instance, who exemplifies both by managing to kick the habit, can very well have you throwing your hat in the air, especially if it happens to be somebody whom for personal reasons you’d like to have around a few years longer. And the courage involved isn’t likely to leave you cold either. Often it’s the habit kicker’s variety that seems the most courageous.
If you think of justice as sitting blindfolded with a scale in her hand, you may have to stifle a yawn, but if you think of a black judge acquitting a white racist of a false murder charge, it can give you gooseflesh.
The faith of a child taking your hand in the night is as moving as the faith of Mother Teresa among the untouchables, or Bernadette facing the skeptics at Lourdes, or Abraham, age seventy-five, packing up his bags for the Promised Land. And hope is the glimmer on the horizon that keeps faith plugging forward, of course, the wings that keep it more or less in the air.
Maybe it’s only love that turns things around and makes the seven deadly sins be the ones to look pale and unenterprising for a change. Greed, gluttony, lust, envy, and pride are no more than sad efforts to fill the empty place where love belongs, and anger and sloth just two things that may happen when you find that not even all seven of them at their deadliest ever can.

 ⚜

~ Frederick Bruechner originally published in Whistling in the Dark and later in Beyond Words

 

   

 

  

photos found at http://www.pinterest.com 

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