life: acoustic & amplified

poetry, quotes & thoughts about life

Archive for the category “mystery”

the sensual colors of poetry 

I like your wide open window soft abandon

your wild free wheelin rambunctiousness

your inexplicable

untamed

a soft new invention

a wilderness

a concoction of sensual indigenous aromas

and I want to hear you sing

your wild buffalo song

my axe wailing some new chord

with the sun on our backs

cool water in our packs

.

I want our hikes to go on for days 

months years

exploring everything wild 

and real

fully contaminated with green forest and wild herbs 

till our blood is so fully and completely inoculated

with chlorophyll and light 

that our dreams become plainly visible 

.

as the light runs from the skies

and the sun dims

we will lie on warm ground 

inventing a new perfume 

under a blanket of whispering stars

🔥

Adam A. DeFranco

I’m in an open relationship

with my heart.

How can I contain my passion for snails?

For otters, milkweed in autumn,

the holes in old socks that live

for decades in a drawer,

stray cats, lonely porcelain

Sleeping Beauty and the Prince

salt and pepper shakers,

coyotes moaning in the wetland,

wayward petals that wander

far from their roses

on rain-swollen breaths of September.

Each creature, I’m afraid,

is my favorite partner.

You, you above all.

I say that to everyone, don’t I?

After love making,

the universe and I just lie here

gazing through our tears.

Who is the sweat-beaded Dancer?

Who is the Witness wearing only

a necklace of stars?

One who burns completely,

leaving neither smoke

nor ashes,

becomes pure.

❤️
Alfred K. LaMotte


Yes, God is mysterious as fog,

but please, don’t give me that stuff

about God playing hard to get.

She is so into you 

I can’t believe you don’t see it.

She’s flagrant about it.

She writes you the steamiest letters

in the colors of sky and leaf, 

in stone and sea and child,

her hands are all over you,

she has moves that—admit it—

make you blush.

He’s in your dreams, 

whispers to you when you aren’t listening.

You think those scriptures are some dry text

but it’s him, fawning all over you,

saying your name.

She wears the most revealing outfits,

struts her stuff, begs for attention.

They’ve always been like that. 

Going on singles cruises,

trolling the skankiest bars in town,

hoping for luck.

She has no shame, no holding back.

I’d take her aside and talk to her

about decorum and such,

but golly, 

I can’t even get in the same room with her

without her climbing all over me. 

She’s yours, mate. 
Yeah, it’s a little wild. Razor’s edge.

I get why you pull back.

But listen.  

Secretly, so in the dark you don’t even know,

it’s your own heart that’s flirting 

with everything that moves.

She’s the one 

who’s holding you quietly, calmly, murmuring,

“Easy. Easy. I’m right here.

You’ve got me. It’s OK.”
______________________

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

http://www.unfoldinglight.net


I want to kiss you forever

I want to lay with you

in a tangle of sheets and tongues and crazy, wild hair

with the rain beating against the foggy windowpane

and touch your face 

as our warm 

eyes and souls and bodies 

melt into one

with God

the perfect trifecta 

I want to stay there

forever 

and then another endless, beautiful day

I’ll not ever ask for more

than to love 

and be loved

like this

by you

💋

Amy Lloyd (AL)


You can

die for it–

an idea,

or the world. People
have done so,

brilliantly,

letting

their small bodies be bound
to the stake,

creating

an unforgettable

fury of light. But
this morning,

climbing the familiar hills

in the familiar

fabric of dawn, I thought
of China,

and India

and Europe, and I thought

how the sun
blazes

for everyone just

so joyfully

as it rises
under the lashes

of my own eyes, and I thought

I am so many!

What is my name?
What is the name

of the deep breath I would take

over and over

for all of us? Call it
whatever you want, it is

happiness, it is another one

of the ways to enter

fire.

 ~ Mary Oliver, New and Selected Poems

Remember: Joy is not a sin; sacrifice is not a virtue. 

         ❤️ Paulo Coelho ❤️

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I am here to tell you morning has come 

there’s this whisper promise 

in the breeze,

a bit of ethereal fog slipping between the sheets 

of night 

and dawn breaking.
there’s this rumor running 

afoot in this new born day,

a sideways glance of something – 

Oh it’s JOY! 

and all this glory burning hot. 
there’s this holy hushing

songs of angels,

a chorus of bluebells

bowing heads

softly clapping

as they watch it all approaching. 
there’s this first blush of light,

smudging darkness,

a bit like the bitter and sweet

mixed each day with our longing 

for joy to come nest. 
there’s a song playing on low

sometimes you forget to remember 

be still and know

as sure as spring follows winter

love always wins

listen to your heartbeat 

joy is our birthright 

right now

morning has come

🌞
Amy Lloyd (AL)


It could happen any time, tornado,

 earthquake, Armageddon. It could happen.

 Or sunshine, love, salvation.
It could, you know. That’s why we wake

 and look out — no guarantees

 in this life.
But some bonuses, like morning,

 like right now, like noon,

 like evening. 
Yes!
-William Stafford

At times, our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person. Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us.

 

 – Albert Schweitzer

what fire am i?  


i am the fire on the mountain

i am the fire by the sea

i am the fire in the forest

burning down all of the trees


i am the fire in the desert 

i am the fire in the snow

i am the fire that will warm you

when your bones have grown cold


i am the fire for your shelter

i am the fire for your bread

i am the fire for your hunger

whenever you go to bed

i am the fire on the water

i am the fire that is near

i am the fire burning your words

consuming your doubt and your fear


i am the fire of your longing

i am the fire of your soul

i am the fire of your loving

i will never grow cold


i am the fire for your winter

i am the fire for your spring

i am the fire of your living

passion and life i will bring


i am the fire of destruction

i am the fire where you die

i am the fire of your Phoenix 

as you rise, as you soar, to the sky

🔥

Amy Lloyd (AL)


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




inhale to receive exhale to give      

Earth our waitress

            comes to the table in her rumpled apron

            stained with a hundred juices.

            “What will it be this morning?” 
            “Let’s start with some mist

            in one of those green valleys,

            and a cup of black loam with

            a single tree frog.

            Then fallen apples over easy

            with extra worms,

            a side of scattered leaves

            in a caramelized sunbeam.” 
            “That comes with Summer’s last

            abandoned bird’s nest salad.

            Or soup of the day, fern bog

            with skunk cabbage and blue

            chanterelles.” 
            “I’ll take the soup,

            a half carafe of Autumn rain,

            and a cruller the shape

            of a groundhog’s hole.” 
            She remembers your order by heart.

            Old ones keep coming back to this place.

            They bring grandchildren.

            She knows what you love. 
            There’s a line to get in.

            Sometimes it seems

            we have to wait a year,

            but its worth it.

🍃

Alfred K LaMotte

Packed in my mind lie all the clothes
   

Which outward nature wears,

And in its fashion’s hourly change
    

It all things else repairs.
In vain I look for change abroad,
    

And can no difference find,

Till some new ray of peace uncalled
   

 Illumes my inmost mind.
What is it gilds the trees and clouds,
   

 And paints the heavens so gay,

But yonder fast-abiding light
    

With its unchanging ray?
Lo, when the sun streams through the wood,
  

  Upon a winter’s morn,

Where’er his silent beams intrude
    

The murky night is gone.
How could the patient pine have known
    

The morning breeze would come,

Or humble flowers anticipate
    

The insect’s noonday hum,—
Till the new light with morning cheer
    

From far streamed through the aisles,

And nimbly told the forest trees
    

For many stretching miles?
I’ve heard within my inmost soul
    

Such cheerful morning news,

In the horizon of my mind
    

Have seen such orient hues,
As in the twilight of the dawn,
    

When the first birds awake,

Are heard within some silent wood,
    

Where they the small twigs break,
Or in the eastern skies are seen,
    

Before the sun appears,

The harbingers of summer heats
    

Which from afar he bears.
🌞

The Inward Morning 

Henry David Thoreau

Every night before I go to sleep

I say out loud

Three things that I’m grateful for,

All the significant, insignificant

Extraordinary, ordinary stuff of my life.

It’s a small practice and humble,

And yet, I find I sleep better

Holding what lightens and softens my life

Ever so briefly at the end of the day.

Sunlight, and blueberries,

Good dogs and wool socks,

A fine rain,

A good friend,

Fresh basil and wild phlox,

My father’s good health,

My daughter’s new job,

The song that always makes me cry,

Always at the same part,

No matter how many times I hear it.

Decent coffee at the airport,

And your quiet breathing,

The stories you told me,

The frost patterns on the windows,

English horns and banjos,

Wood Thrush and June bugs,

The smooth glassy calm of the morning pond,

An old coat,

A new poem,

My library card,

And that my car keeps running

Despite all the miles.

And after three things,

More often than not,

I get on a roll and I just keep on going,

I keep naming and listing,
Until I lie grinning,

Blankets pulled up to my chin,

Awash with wonder

At the sweetness of it all.
🤗

Three Gratitudes

BY CARRIE NEWCOMER
these two pictures are from Robin OK’s morning from Michigan. The rest are from my morning walk in Branford, CT with Phoebe Snow Good Times!


adding this below – just sent via text from my friend, Anni, currently in Scotland for her daughters wedding!! 

and from my friend, Bill…this day just keeps giving…


and from the lunch table


the dr is in   

Living systems never really settle down. 
        – John Holland

                We were only to sleep for a short while. 

Words stuck in thick layers , they are there and then they are gone …and the fire burns day and night…like some drift wood set a blaze on a lonely hill. 

Not many know the fire…not many know the Way…

but that fire keeps setting the sun to blaze; Spirit beats within the body and pages are blank…

 It is everything, and it is nothing.

  Spirit empties one to naked longing, then traps the soul in a loving embrace. 

Vowed to live it’s days on earth, as it is in heaven…

Soul , human body with mystery and mayhem…

With preoccupation with the Holy; with adoration won…with words that ache to be heard but have no expression in this realm…

Veil once torn…eye filled with Light…

Worlds riding within worlds…glances, witness, wonders. 

The madness that comes, when you know God,

Come back on a black horse, for the fire will chase all the others away.

Ride like the wind, knowing nothing at all….and living the Fire.

Beauty,

Donna Knutson

Above the ground after a brief silence

they resume their war

before they are even out of the graveyard,

climbing over each other

trying to save their own lives,

clawing at some unseen soil above them,
while beneath he rests in peace,

where, after all, we each long to be,

borne to our resting ground, 

cherished and at peace,

soon and very soon.
Could I slip beneath the grass

of my battlefields and travel there?

Can I find a way to live 

without that combat,

rest without that death,

to grant to the wicked

the eternal peace of the living?
God, bury me

beneath the feet of my anxieties.

Let them go on without me, arguing. 

Let me be a ghost of grace,

untroubled, unbound,

interred in love. 

         

__________________ 

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

http://www.unfoldinglight.net

Fidelity by Regina Spektor

all day long

the music inside me

walks me through

every day the song-lists play 

weaving themselves into the world

around my going

just yesterday

you created new symphonic occurrences 

to be forever included 

in my smile

my senses refined by the touch of you

the wind gently touching my face

with delicate fingers

my sweat soaked body 

reminds me of that deep burning fire

life plays on and on

with me for this very moment

right here 

right now

part of the harmony

a single black, dotted note

creating my little piece

of the grand composition 

the masterpiece would be completely different 

without me

without you

🎶

Amy Lloyd (AL)


One of the greatest mistakes we make in this life, I think, is losing hope when we don’t get what we want RIGHT AWAY. It takes time to do anything that matters—to change, to learn to love, to build a business or grow a child or grow into ourselves.

Sadly, too many of us (myself included) lose heart when we don’t see results RIGHT THIS MINUTE.

And when we lose hope, we lose everything.

Hope is not this fluffy thing we sometimes think it is. Hope is dangerous. It’s radical. When we hope, we take a tremendous risk, waiting and waking our hearts to something that we know full well may never come to fruition. There are no guarantees in this life. We do not have 100% control.

Hope hurts. If it doesn’t hurt, it isn’t hope.

And yet I am learning what it means to take LONG view. As I look back over the past 33 years of my life, I realize most of the things I have hoped for have taken DECADES to grow into themselves. It takes a LONG, LONG TIME for things to make sense.

Hope trusts the process—that even if we don’t get the thing we want right away, the story is not over. It’s not completely written.

Hope is steadfast and unwavering. It keeps going and gong and going.

Whatever you’re waiting for, hoping for, wishing for, don’t give up. Keep hoping. Most things don’t make sense until later. Hope is your lifeline. It is your only way home.

🏡
Allison Fallon



tons and tons of sparkles 


Did you know that whenever you feel love, you literally begin to glow? You probably did. 
But did you know that the glowing is actually made up of zillions of minute sparkles? And that these sparkles receive as much energy as they create? And that because of this energy exchange you completely stop aging and look younger? Abundance is immediately drawn to you? Healing powers fill you? Muscles are strengthened, pounds are shed, and your vision improves? Lingering questions are answered? New friends are summoned? Old friends are poked? Problems are solved? And maple syrup tastes more maple-y? 
All when you feel love. 
It’s true, 

    The Universe

      http://www.tut.com


Ms. Nature is moody one

the sky is varying shades 

of pale baby blue

the water is like a silver mirror

endless beautiful

the same rocks that glittered 

like a million diamonds 

just yesterday 

are silent today

big dependable rocks

ready for Monday work week

still the same 

still awesome

still beautiful

just in a different mood

today the brilliant emerald moss

on those huge rocks suspended 

in the metallic mercury

glow against the silver

I think of Ireland

my draw to visit

the Emerald Isle

on the other side of this pond

life is different 

yet the same

the oyster boat trolls

a heron waits until

just the right moment

then takes off 

flying so close to the water 

on and on 

until I lose him in the horizon

I feel like him 

waiting for my moment

resting for the next phase of flight

and in the fullness of time

at just the right nudge

I will take that breath and 

fly

staying close to the water

my source of life

as the epic journey home 

continues

My heart knows for sure

my love story has 

a very happy ending

💚

Amy Lloyd (AL)


Holy One, Divine Lover,

I am your image.

Your glory, your love,

your life, your grace

is folded up in me 

a thousand times

and this, my life,

is your unfolding

like a rose.

Each day your beauty emerges,

each moment your light unfolds

in me.

I honor this mystery. I trust it. 

I give thanks, 

that even in ugly places

you unfold your beauty in me,

each breath one of the infinite

petals of God.
In the rose garden of God

I marvel at the variety.

I walk with gentle wonder.  

I give thanks

that in each of us

you give yourself

to all of us. 
__________________  

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

http://www.unfoldinglight.net

http://www.onbeing.org/blog/david-whyte-the-house-of-belonging/8886

I cannot tell you anything that you are not already capable of knowing yourself.

Nor can I give you anything that is not already at your fingertips.

You have all the answers within your own Being to all of the questions you or anyone else may ask.
Each of us has enormous capacity of Being.

So what is it that we want or need from each other?

Value; We have the capacity to value ourselves and in doing so we set our own value.

Companionship; We experience companionship with others to the capacity that we have companionship with ourselves.
How can I understand others, if I don’t understand myself?
You reflect to me what is already within my own awareness whether I am awake to it or not.

What most of us are looking for outside of ourselves is a reflection, a mirror of what lies within us so that we can gaze upon ourselves.
As I gaze upon myself in the reflection of you

I see the beauty that hides within me
In your grief I touch on the grief I hide inside

In your laughter, laughter is ignited within me
Your Joy radiates and pierces the Joy laden in me

So that we can be in Joy
Your Spirit Unites with Mine as we gaze at Beauty emanated by a flower
This must mean that Beauty enables us to see our harmony 

 A harmony so perfect that nothing can escape it
As I connect to the world outside of myself it reflects me to you and you to me
We are in concert with the great symphony of the Cosmos

Infinitely expressing itself
In those special tender moments when I touch something in me gazing at you

I can hear the masterpiece sweeping us away

I can see the Vision drawing us near

I can smell the fragrance of our essence
For You Are a Part of Me and I am a Part of You

Endless Reflections of the One in Us

🎭

Reflections of Me

© 2014 Mechel Gallaway All rights Reserved


we have a very low view of what it means to be human – Wm Paul Young

The Humanity of The Shack.

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)



A New Thing  


I am learning a new thing

I am digging deep into my belief systems

My very foundation –

the thing I learned,

the thing I wanted,

from the very beginning. 

The very thing I have based every decision of my life on for 51 years,

has crumbled,

discovered hidden and rotten 

under every good thing I’ve attempted to build. 

I kept wonder why my fabulous additions 

kept falling down around my ears…

now I see the gaping ground fault,

the illusive, sinking sand,

which I must release and repair. 

It’s very difficult. 

It’s extremely frightening. 

It’s supremely challenging. 

My new thing goes against the grain 

of everything I’ve ever thought, 

dreamed,

done…

since my very earliest childhood memories. 

It’s been so very expensive. 

Life built. 

Time spent. 

Dreams bent. 

All washing away

as I open my hands and allow 

a new firm foundation 

to be built

as the levee breaks 

and carries the remaining sinking sand 

forever away…

times…

they are a changing!




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