life: acoustic & amplified

poetry, quotes & thoughts about life

Archive for the month “July, 2018”


This morning my daughter, the writer, asked me to participate in her next book in her Saga of the Rose series….

Whispers of Heaven


I sent her a poem which was written during a very hard time in 2008. She loved it.

Even better, I’m feeling very, very happy about a time which was one of the scariest of my life and am enjoying my new title!


I walk in clouds of messy grace

carry them with me wherever I go

I traverse the worlds of the dark and the light

allowing them both to be places I belong

I jump in puddles of deep infinity splashing stardust with my dusty feet

I sail my arc into the driest desert full sails catching the fine winds of new understanding

I climb the highest mountains

to see all the beauty found above and below me

I lay in the blue-green grass of home

to respect the very stuff that I am made of

I drop for 45 minutes into the center of the earth

to allow my stubbornness to burn away

I search the seas at 3am to find one fighting-to-stay-open heart like my own

I am the night ocean

mysterious life. sparkling light-forms

I am the stable earth

wings of birds. creepy creeping things

I am the rain forest

rarest orchid. poison-est frog.

I am the hottest desert

stickiest cacti. smallest grain of sand.

I am the heavens

guarded by angels. home of God.

I am the word

spoken. written. thought.

I am you

child. sibling. parent. friend.

you are me

loving. lover. loved. beloved. love.

we are possibles

be-ings. unlimited. infinite.

I am’s.


Amy Lloyd

hello darkness my old friend

the trees are singing hymns of gregarious grace

including me in their harmonious worship

shades-of-violet hydrangea snowballs shyly peek out from forest green camouflage

wanting to tell their easy going secrets

summer days bunch in humid bouquets of passionate colors

{though we’re all slightly wilted in this heat}

longingly yearning for a bit of chill

the evening falls down in shades of blues and whites

then cinematically the rainbow reel begins to turn

catching our collective breathing in this wonder-as-we-wander show of colors quickly changing

reflecting all its magical up-in-the-air business in the mirrored surface on the water below

for now, light plays electric games

intertwining within the trees empty spaces above black silhouettes

creating living, breathing, stained-glass-type masterpieces down each darkening dead-end street

then it all graciously surrenders to the night call with such tender sky streaking eloquence

having complete peace with its natural disappearance

everything spoken loudly with no verbal cues

I see love everywhere

my soulful poets eyes touching these freely given moments

I wholeheartedly admit, am full-smitten with this messy, beauty-full world

recklessly giving my heart without any hesitation to is flaunting desire to be wild and ramble free-

changing every moment

ever on and on

my heart beat keeps time

my steps lead me through emptied streets

winding my way home

to my bed of quilts and comforts

now I lay me down

with no more miles to go

my ever rambling conversation,

some have named, Prayer,

with this best friend of mine,

this love I know so well, is,

as it is most frequently,

one of extravagant thanks

I am kept

I am loved

I am enough

this I know for sure


Amy Lloyd

You stare at the broken mirrors

Shattered reflections of the past

I think we may be standing in the same

Shadows that been cast

Darkness, no more darkness

The broken days have beat the dead of night

Darkness, no more darkness

No more darkness, no more light

And a trail we choose to follow

It’s as cursed as it is blessed

Is there mercy that we all must face

Before the dead can raise

Darkness, no more darkness

The broken days have beat the dead of night

Darkness, no more darkness

No more darkness, no more light

And if you listen to the song that settled on the breeze

A woman singing unto our baby boy

I won’t live to see the day that you’ll be lifted off your knees

Some days it feels so hopeless

Nothing’s making any sense

Flags we raise in praise of ruthless

Supposed innocence

Darkness, no more darkness

The broken days have beat dead of night

Darkness, no more darkness

No more darkness, no more light

No more darkness, no more light

No more darkness, no more light


Amos Lee Music and Lyrics



Stillness is vital to the world of the soul. If as you age you become more still, you will discover that stillness can be a great companion. The fragments of your life will have time to unify, and the places where your soul-shelter is wounded or broken will have time to knit and heal. You will be able to return to yourself. In this stillness, you will engage your soul. Many people miss out on themselves completely as they journey through life. They know others, they know places, they know skills, they know their work, but tragically, they do not know themselves at all. Aging can be a lovely time of ripening when you actually meet yourself, indeed maybe for the first time. There are beautiful lines from T. S. Eliot that say:

‘And the end of all our exploring

Will be to arrive where we started

And know the place for the first time.’

John O’Donohue

Excerpt from ANAM CARA

fall in love…stay there

Here’s to walking barefoot,

to messy hair,

to taking deep breaths,

to salty lips,

to freckles,

to sandy feet,

to breaking all the rules,

to hot tea on chilly mornings,

to sunsets,

to holding hands,

to swimming naked,

to good books,

to friends that tell you the truth no matter what.

Here’s to freshly picked strawberries,

to the full moon,

to going on vacation,

to being home.

Here’s to yoga,

to long hugs,

to too much jewellery,

to laughing until your face hurts.

Here’s to silence, to first kisses, to last kisses, to all kisses.

To saying I Love You.

Here’s to life and death and the moments in between that makes it all worthwhile.

~ Rachel Brathen

summer wine

play for the day

while the grapes ripen

under the golden sun

the frog prince sit atop a striped lily pad

beautiful balls floating in the water


sing for the day

while the thunder rolls

under the skies of gray

the cheeky squirrel plans how to get to the bird feeder

while munching on a salad of hibiscus leaf


cry for the day

teach the willow some lessons in grief

under the blood red moon

while the mind plays evil tricks on the old lady

sleeping once or twice through a night in July


laugh for the day

find yourself in love with the sound of your own laughter

under the current weathered sky

dream and love and fight and make up

all in a day, every day, while you find yourself alive


Amy Lloyd

Hang with people

who allow you to ripen.

Become the golden sky

in your grape skin.

But don’t forget

the wounded vine

that rounded your bouquet

with tannins of sorrow,

dark tears of petrichor.

True sweetness

has body.


Fred LaMotte

over and over

This world doesn’t improve by demanding perfection. It improves when we reach through our armor and touch another with tenderness. It improves when we bust through the walls of our conditioning, and try a new way of being on for size. It improves when we work through our unresolved shadow and share what little light we can find. It is the small, positive steps that we take when we are at war with ourselves that change the world.

– Jeff Brown



this same thought keeps appearing


I delete…


I delete…

haven’t I already written a poem?

haven’t I already written that exact one?

What have I left out?

What haven’t I examined properly?

There are always layers

As Shrek reminds me,

I am an onion…


yes, layers



truth left to excavate

healing to be won

motivations to uncover

mystery to be discovered

always more

God keeps getting bigger

as I examine my own heart,

reduce my need to be right,

open my hands wider.

realization dawns

growth happens

humbles me…

my best self emerges within this process

send it again…

remind me again…


Amy Lloyd

Dear God,

I’m getting tired of your mystery.

I feel distant. I can’t get to you.

Like digging in sand that keeps caving in.

Like running and getting nowhere. Reaching but not touching.

There is a thin crust of ice on the surface of my soul.

I want to break through and come to you, to dive into you deeper.

I want to be more here. More present. Deeper in.
What is holding me back? Is it my discipline?
My need to surrender more? May scatteredness?
My over-anxious ego?
Break my ice, God. Break through. Melt me. I want more.
Come to me.

I am here. You are here. You are in me already.
Where do you think you want to go?
Where do you think I am?
I am the sand. I am the ice. I am the space.
I am the longing.
Just stop. Here we are.
Here we are.

I love you.


Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

to be or not to be

My mission, should I choose to accept it, is to find peace with exactly who and what I am. To take pride in my thoughts, my appearance, my talents, my flaws and to stop this incessant worrying that I can’t be loved as I am.

— Anais Nin

gloom is cheap

the end of the world is always coming

let us do the hard thing

live your highest and best life

give all your deepest love

inhabit all your burning passion

share your most important truth

celebrate every little thing with joy


Amy Lloyd

I’ll be your water

Real love is intense, but its not dangerous. It’s passionate, but not abusive. It’s vulnerable, but not risky. Those who think love must feel dangerous, often grew up in homes where love was associated with destruction. There was love, but there was so much chaos attached to it that the two became internally indistinguishable. If so, our work now is to learn how to associate love with safety. Not a boring kind of safety, but the kind that is infused with genuine self-care. We set the stage for real love, when we learn how to love ourselves enough to protect ourselves from harm.

– Jeff Brown

wrapped in clouds

I woke up with thoughts like this

Never miss a opportunity to give pleasure to someone else

Where is the face I had before the world was made?

just below the surface of my wearing skin is so much joyous future waiting to be lived

I wrote a thought below your name, which is tattooed on this heart of mine

Greater than happiness is holiness –

You could not help me with either of the preceding < or > desires

Some Temples are built without a stone put together

God is found where two or three sit around a round kitchen table holding hands cupped to collect falling tears

How much research will it take to release the pain in my shoulders?

Poems and prose are witnesses leading to a mapped blueprint of recovery

If I build a house what will the front door look like?

Be still for a long minute

then hold the beat one second longer

Welcome home


Amy Lloyd

You are built together spiritually
into a dwelling place for God.
—Ephesians 2.22

Tourists come to admire the temple,
to take pictures and buy mementos,
but it’s not on their maps.

Pilgrims come seeking
their separate peace in it,
but they they can’t find it.

Eventually the army arrives,
ordered to destroy the temple,
but it has vanished.

It isn’t here, or there,
it isn’t in a place,
it isn’t a thing.
It is empty space.

It is the love between us.
It is not something that “is,”
but something that happens.
Like gravity that exists
only between objects in space,
the dwelling place of God
exists only in the love
we hold between us.
It is eternal.
When we enter that holy space
among us
which God creates
we enter God,
and nothing can remove us.

In the cool of the sanctuary
we listen to the music
and we breathe.

Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light

No one told me

it would be like this—

how growing older

is another passage

of discovery

and that aging is one

grand transformation,

and if some things

become lost along the way,

many other means show up

to bring me closer

to the center of my heart.

No one ever told me

if whatever wonder

waits ahead

is in another realm

and outside of time.

But the amazement, I found,

is that the disconcerting things

in the here and now

that I stumble

and trip my way

through, also

guides me



And no one told me

I would ever see

an earth so strong

and fragile, or

a world so sad

and beautiful.

And I surely

didn’t know

I had

all this life

yet in me

or such fire

inside my



Susan Frybort

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