life: acoustic & amplified

poetry, quotes & thoughts about life

Archive for the month “May, 2018”


always and ever

we hold eternity in the palm of our hand

life can be found

within the milky way or in a grain of sand

be just a little brave

the rewards are great

nothing worth having is easy

hope is a hard won virtue of continuous choosing

when you see the sunrise

celebrate with everything

and everyone you see

always kiss the checkout girls goodbye

and tip your waiter well

say goodnight, Gracie

Everything is coming up roses and peppercorns

I promise you’ll be so glad you hung in

wonder follows the light

and you, my friend, are the light

a very bright light


Amy Lloyd

permission granted

You’re allowed to leave any story you don’t find yourself in. You’re allowed to leave any story you don’t love yourself in.

You’re allowed to leave a city that has dimmed your light instead of making you shine brighter, you’re allowed to pack all your bags and start over somewhere else and you’re allowed to redefine the meaning of your life.

You’re allowed to quit the job you hate even if the world tells you not to and you’re allowed to search for something that makes you look forward to tomorrow and to the rest of your life.

You’re allowed to leave someone you love if they’re treating you poorly, you’re allowed to put yourself first if you’re settling and you’re allowed to walk away when you’ve tried over and over again but nothing has changed.

You’re allowed to let toxic friends go, you’re allowed to surround yourself with love, and people who encourage and nurture you. You’re allowed to pick the kind of energy you need in your life.

You’re allowed to forgive yourself for your biggest and smallest mistakes and you’re allowed to be kind to yourself, you’re allowed to look in the mirror and actually like the person you see.

You’re allowed to set yourself free from your own expectations.

We sometimes look at leaving as a bad thing or associate it with giving up or quitting, but sometimes leaving is the best thing you can do for yourself.

Leaving allows you to change directions, to start over, to rediscover yourself and the world. Leaving sometimes saves you from staying stuck in the wrong place with the wrong people.

Leaving opens a new door for change, growth, opportunities and redemption.

You always have the choice to leave until you find where you belong and what makes you happy.

You’re even allowed to leave the old you behind and reinvent yourself.

Author: Rania Naim

Holding the secrets in silence

all these cramped years of painful habits

Screaming within the internal chambers

of backs and necks and shoulders

Mona Lisa vaguely smiling

echoes of wounds inflicted long ago

clinging tightly to every cell wall

reverberations within the halls of ancestral dna

Cloud walking within the storms of terror

silver linings long stripped of value

Snapshots of abuse caught and carried

all these years of walking pilgrim

feet blistered and road weary

I begin draining the swamps of false imprisonment –

Layer by layer

what have I so torturously considered mine –

and deservedly so?

why have I held so tightly to the belief of self flagellation

as my only deserved birthright?

when did I decide to build memorials of abuse

and carry them as dragging pain-filled weighted-toxic marrow in my bones ?

where did this pain become the outline of my identity

the blueprint of my choices?

will I let it go – Now that I’ve seen it?

will I behead this beast, allow the blood to spill?

will I allow this pain to dissolve into a distant misty memory of someone I used to be?

will I claim a new inheritance of pain-free trust and love?

will I stand within the circle of my own dreams

drawn by my truest, strongest and highest self

and sing hallelujahs to the sky?

will I tap into my own unique beauty and recognize my body’s and life’s extreme value?

will I speak the true truth of the way my life will be and then create it as reality?

will I bring rest to myself each day I am blessed to live?

will I build all of these questions into new habits

Yes, I will

Amen and Amen


Amy Lloyd


A gunshot to the head

Wakes me

Shakes me

I find a definition which speaks

Im ready to begin afresh

time to draw new circles around everything


A power shot begins creation

Circles Of care

Circles Of prayer

around my life

this day has finally come

Dare to do all things new

In the merciful morning of this arrival


Hit me with your best shot

it’s a glad day

not a sad day

there is a deeper call

Within this circle of faith and trust

within this life of service and song

There is balance and harmony and love


Amy Lloyd

what matters most

Sometimes our knowing so much holds us back…

Head and heart language

bunched up in the laundry basket

between loads of colored clothes

that go either in the hot or cold,

delicate and normal…

First or second rinse…

How many books on the shelves explain God…

Or list gratitude as number four ,

After loving God, neighbor and oneself?

And the balance has to change if the soul is to

Learn the lessons of this lifetime…

Endure the consequences,

Wrap up years on a calendar

With more joys than sorrows.

Perhaps there is meaning in Sabbath rest,

Sharing popsicles with toddlers with sticky hands;

Washing old quilts and hanging them on clotheslines to dry…

Saying, “I don’t know,” and it’s alright.

Writing poetry that preaches a basic message of goodness…

While standing in the crowd,

Cheering for the other guy

Witnessing God in the subtle and the sly

Trading nothing for what has been,

Yet defining what has been enough,

What will not do anymore,

And that coming to the earth at this time

Is for the curious, the creative and those who

Value communion – and what stirs one up inside.

Complicated and complex –

The sharing of spiritual thought on levels that

Change the planet and the sway of the trees as we walk in the park.


Rev.Donna Knutson

Letting go into the wind

The winding road behind obliterated

Creating a heart of sand inside

then allowing the salt water to wash it clean

Ready for new footprints

of children ready to play

creating circles of care

evolution of spring into summer brings so much new

green, growth, flowers

Honey bees can’t resist pollination

making love brings birthdays galore

one after another

Blessing heaped on blessing

Grace upon grace

Mercy’s for this day

we wear our sunshine if needed

we sing praises until we’re done

then walk on down to the river

feeling emotional

baptism is only the simplest picture

of a brand new life


Amy Lloyd


You ask me again this evening

at what price

Does wisdom finally come

in any life

Or at any age & now I think

I know

The answer swear to me that

when I tell you

It is only everything you believe

You will travel as far from this city

as you can before

The streets grow smeared & lost

to the smug

& promiscuous coming of the day


Before Dawn by David St. John

I couldn’t name it, the sweet

sadness welling up in me for weeks.

So I cleaned, found myself standing

in a room with a rag in my hand,

the birds calling time-to-go, time-to-go.

And like an old woman near the end

of her life I could hear it, the voice

of a man I never loved who pressed

my breasts to his hips and whispered

“My little doves, my white, white lilies.”

I could almost cry when I remember it.

I don’t remember when I began

to call everyone “sweetie,”

as if they were my daughters,

my darlings, my little birds.

I have always loved too much,

or not enough. Last night

I read a poem about God and almost

believed it—God sipping coffee,

smoking cherry tobacco. I’ve arrived

at a time in my life when I could believe

almost anything.

Today, pumping gas into my old car, I stood

hatless in the rain and the whole world

went silent—cars on the wet street

sliding past without sound, the attendant’s

mouth opening and closing on air

as he walked from pump to pump, his footsteps

erased in the rain—nothing

but the tiny numbers in their square windows

rolling by my shoulder, the unstoppable seconds

gliding by as I stood at the Chevron,

balancing evenly on my two feet, a gas nozzle

gripped in my hand, my hair gathering rain.

And I saw it didn’t matter

who had loved me or who I loved. I was alone.

The black oily asphalt, the slick beauty

of the Iranian attendant, the thickening

clouds—nothing was mine. And I understood

finally, after a semester of philosophy,

a thousand books of poetry, after death

and childbirth and the startled cries of men

who called out my name as they entered me,

I finally believed I was alone, felt it

in my actual, visceral heart, heard it echo

like a thin bell. And the sounds

came back, the slish of tires

and footsteps, all the delicate cargo

they carried saying thank you

and yes. So I paid and climbed into my car

as if nothing had happened—

as if everything mattered — What else could I do?

I drove to the grocery store

and bought wheat bread and milk,

a candy bar wrapped in gold foil,

smiled at the teenaged cashier

with the pimpled face and the plastic

name plate pinned above her small breast,

and knew her secret, her sweet fear—

Little bird. Little darling. She handed me

my change, my brown bag, a torn receipt,

pushed the cash drawer in with her hip

and smiled back.


—Dorianne Laux, What We Carry


May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds.

~ Edward Abbey

the home of the master

is not always what we expect.

the soul of the yogi is sometimes, more than a little, troubled.

the heart of the guru

not always easy or calm.

the path of the pilgrim

not always smooth and straight.

a lot of good angels

seem to be very scruffy.

the most valiant warriors come carrying death on their swords.

the best pastures for the beloved sheep

are often quite tricky to find.

the best of life

usually comes to us the very hard way.

we fall. we learn.

we rise. we fall again.

in these days of fast food.

loud, busy

and instant everything.

silence, prayer

and that elusive, most difficult, quality-

self mastery

are still the pathways

to happiness


Amy Lloyd

Let’s run. Let’s keep running. Let’s swallow so much blue our mouths become skies become oceans. Hold on to whatever of me is easiest, like my hands or this thing in my chest that can’t stop talking about you.

by Yves Olade

a question or two

What is a small act of pure love?

Isn’t that the ultimate oxymoron?

What matters and what doesn’t?

Who decides?

What really rings the Captain bells in the halls of heaven?

Where are the grandest palaces built?

Who truly owns everything we claim,

everything we hold so dear?

What color will you pick to wear to the grandest wedding you will ever attend?

When do the people who clean the outhouses regain their appetites and feast?

Do you believe everybody’s poop stinks,

yet is a common element of this thing called:

being human?

Should gratitude protect us from life’s hardships?

If I’m thankful do I get to keep what I want?

Why do some people never know hunger and others literally starve to death?

Which of the following is the more important question?

Why me?

Why NOT me?


Amy Lloyd

Deeper than my words,

deeper than my knowing,

Spirit, pray in me.

I open the door of my heart for you.

I hold the arms of my spirit open for you.

Welcome. Spirit, pray in me.

I only hold the space.

I do not hear your prayers,

your sighs too deep for my hearing.

I do not know how to pray.

I only know how to be still,

Spirit, as you pray in me.


Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

Sometimes I tremble like a storm-swept flower,

And seek to hide my tortured soul from thee,

Bowing my head in deep humility

Before the silent thunder of thy power.

Sometimes I flee before thy blazing light,

As from the specter of pursuing death;

Intimidated lest thy mighty breath,

Windways, will sweep me into utter night.

For oh, I fear they will be swallowed up—

The loves which are to me of vital worth,

My passion and my pleasure in the earth—

And lost forever in thy magic cup!

I fear, I fear my truly human heart

Will perish on the altar-stone of art!

– Poetry by Claude McKay

begin again

There is nothing to fear in the act of beginning. More often than not it knows the journey ahead better than we ever could. Perhaps the art of harvesting the secret riches of our lives is best achieved when we place profound trust in the act of beginning. Risk might be our greatest ally. To live a truly creative life, we always need to cast a critical look at where we presently are, attempting always to discern where we have become stagnant and where new beginning might be ripening. There can be no growth if we do not remain open and vulnerable to what is new and different. I have never seen anyone take a risk for growth that was not rewarded a thousand times over.

– John O’Donohue

No big challenge has ever been solved, and no lasting improvement has ever been achieved, unless people dare to try something different. Dare to think different.

– Cook

it’s our choice

we are here to impact the world

in special ways

each of us play some small part

in the greatest story of all

…and God spoke…

God created…

God keeps creating….

we keep creating…

It’s who we are…

our design is to design…

impact takes destruction

from chaos comes order

beauty in every part of the process

Can you see it?

Can you live there now?

step into the blasted uncomfort-zone?

stay there for as long as it takes for the mud to settle,

for the bones to pop back into place,

with no guarantee of a pleasant outcome…

will you stand up and be counted?

keep stepping into the void

knowing the value of the work

knowing the well-being of the world may well depend on us standing in our own skin

speaking our own words of truth

choosing what we really want to eat from today’s menu


Amy Lloyd

“Trust the intelligence of chaos. Life is only refreshing itself.”

– Jeff Foster


Something is true,
more true than most,
more to the root:
the love that founds you,
the joy that finds you
the peace that frees you
in the being beneath your doing.
It is the sun of the sunrise of you,
the song
that gives the singing of your life.
Let it be the music you dance to,
the drumbeat of your journey.
Let it be the path you’re on.
Let it be the one heart that believes
what is worth believing,
the one ear that hears
what is true in others.
It married you long ago.
Renew your vows and stay faithful.
If you lose it,
stop and listen.
Go with it, always with it.
Trust it deeper than any thing else,
except maybe the voice that utters it.

Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light

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