life: acoustic & amplified

poetry, quotes & thoughts about life

let go…don’t look back

This is the grip, like this:

both hands. You can close

your eyes if you like. When I say,

“Now” it’s time. Don’t wait

or it’s all over. But not

too soon, either–just right.

Don’t worry. Let’s go.

Both hands.

Survival Course by William Stafford


my teacher

my school

my temple

my shed

my friend

my lover

my wonder

my wander

my passion

my peace

my darkness

my shining

my opening

my knowledge

my quests

my mystery

my luminosity

my path

my return

my budding

my harvest

my seasons

my eternal

my connection

my uniqueness

my blush

my beauty

my ravaging

my savaging

my circle

my arrow

my path

my journey

my longing

my desire

my tryst

my trust

my hope

my haven

my safety

my risk

my skip-itty-doo-dah

the hair on my chinny-chin-chin

my space

my intimacy

my solitude

my family

my found

my faith

my dancing

my lame

my music

my words

my rhythm

my song

my vision

my sight

my lost

my found

my sin

my soul

my tears

my laughter

my being

my belonging

my life

my love

my looking in

my letting go

my begging

my abundance

my start

my stop

my end

my beginning

my heart

my skin

my senses

my fences

my flash

my fire

my living

my death

my creator

my Spirit

my wound

my healer

my receiver

my giver

my adventure

my wild

my silence

my sound

my doo-be-doobie-do

my fa-la-la-la

my going

my coming

my heaven

my home

my ashes

my resurrection

my grounding

my wings

my births

my deaths

my everything


Amy Lloyd

dreams fill a pewter pitcher, slowly

pour the contents of a summer

down a mahogany banister

to seep into forest green

how skies sigh, witnessing

the loss of a season- a gain

of wisdom shone in the dust

beading in the air by windows’ glare

how dusk cloaks and comforts

as a truth lit up in firefly eve

superimposed on a midnight blue sky

reminds the insidious questioner

is it you, or is it me– that forever

must go through this barely lit

tunnel – before stepping out–free!

to be touched by ancient filigree

~kate lamberg (c) ’17


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