life: acoustic & amplified

poetry, quotes & thoughts about life

Archive for the category “beloved”

settle in

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I smiled at myself
in the mirror this morning
said, ‘good morning’
to the crazy haired girl
looking at me with happy eyes
I make happy coffee
and smile as the heaven-brew
hits morning tastebuds
I have many thoughts this morning
plans and inspiration
floating through
I smile at the fresh pink fuzz
on the backyard tree
at the birds hopping through grass
at the dirty pig statue
looking so perfectly thrilled
To be so dirty
I believe I will live this quote today:
The only thing that ultimately matters is to eat an ice cream
cone, play a slide trombone, plant a small tree, good God, now
you’re free.
– Ray Manzarek
Hmmm wonder where I’ll find that trombone?

ACL 4/15/13

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Sunday morning easy…😉

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The light has begun to shine! – SLK

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He picked up a pebble
and threw it into the sea.

And another, and another.
He couldn’t stop.

He wasn’t trying to fill the sea.
He wasn’t trying to empty the beach.

He was just throwing away,
nothing else but.

Like a kitten playing
he was practicing for the future

when there’ll be so many things
he’ll want to throw away

if only his fingers will unclench
and let them go.

“Small boy” by Norman MacCaig

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💞

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And now I know what most deeply connects us

after that summer so many years ago,
and it isn’t poetry, although it is poetry,

and it isn’t illness, although we have that in common,

and it isn’t gratitude for every moment,
even the terrifying ones, even the physical pain,

though we are halfway through
it, or even the way you describe the magnificence

of being alive, catching a glimpse,

in the store window, of your blowing hair and chapped lips,
though it is beautiful, it is; but it is

that you’re my friend out here on the far reaches

of what humans can find out about each other.

“Coda” by Jason Shinder

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In love’s service only the wounded soldiers can serve. – Thornton Wilder

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Dreams we can’t envision

Once there were three little trees, all with big dreams. The first tree dreamed of being carved into a beautiful and ornate treasure box that would hold the greatest treasure the world had ever seen. The second tree dreamed of being fashioned into a great ship that would sail the Seven Seas. The third tree didn’t want to leave its home on the mountaintop. “I want to grow so tall that when people stop to look at me,” he said, “they’ll raise their eyes to heaven and think of God.”
One day when the young saplings had grown into tall, strong trees, three woodcutters climbed the mountain. As they cut down the first tree, it could barely contain its excitement – it just knew it would soon fulfill its destiny. But instead of an elaborate treasure chest, workers made the tree into a plain, ordinary feedbox for farm animals. The tree felt bitterly disappointed.The second tree got made into a ship, all right – but not the kind to crest the waves of mighty oceans. It became just a simple fishing vessel, floating in a lake – not the stuff dreams are made of.
The third tree, to its horror and dismay, got chopped down, cut into wooden beams, and then left to gather dust in a lumberyard. “All I ever wanted was to stay on the mountaintop and point to God,” it moaned.
Time passed and the trees forgot their dreams, until one night when a young woman placed her baby in the animal feedbox – and the first tree knew that indeed it carried the greatest treasure on earth.
Another night, a tired man and his friends crowded into the little fishing boat. They got halfway across the lake when a terrible storm blew in, threatening to tear the boat to pieces. The tired man stood up and said, “Peace, be still.” The second tree knew then that it was carrying the king of heaven and earth.
One Friday morning the third tree felt itself yanked from the woodpile and dragged through city streets, where crowds shouted insults. The tree felt cruel and ugly when it realized it had become an instrument of torture. Soldiers nailed a man’s hands and feet to its beams, as the tree cried in shame. But on Sunday morning, when the sun rose and the earth trembled with joy, the tree stood tall, finally knowing that from now on, it would be the tree on the mountaintop, forever pointing people to God.
-traditional folk tale
as told in, God Loves Broken People, Sheila Walsh

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The power of suffering to create beauty in your life lies almost entirely with you, in how you chose to react to the difficulties and even catastrophes that invade your life.
– Sheila Walsh

God’s kind, gentle love is not the sentimental, sappy variety…Instead, this love is strong. This love is a fierce love, a positive force that conquers sin, evil, and death. It is the burning passion to overcome evil with good. It is steadfast commitment to the ultimate, highest good of another – even if that other is one’s enemy. It is a love that does not put self or stuff at the center of life, but gives itself away with joyful abandon. It is a love so secure in another that it loses its life for others, only to find its life again.
– Richard J. Vincent

best friends

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Assume it’s in the kitchen,
under the couch, high
in the pine tree out back,
behind the paint cans
in the garage. Don’t try
proving your love
is bigger than the Grand
Canyon, the Milky Way,
the urban sprawl of L.A.
Take it for granted. Take it
out with the garbage. Bring
it in with the takeout. Take
it for a walk with the dog.
Wake it every day, say,
“Good morning.” Then
make the coffee. Warm
the cups. Don’t expect much
of the day. Be glad when
you make it back to bed.
Be glad he threw out that
box of old hats. Be glad
she leaves her shoes
in the hall. Snow will
come. Spring will show up.
Summer will be humid.
The leaves will fall
in the fall. That’s more
than you need. We can
love anybody, even
everybody. But you
can love the silence,
sighing and saying to
yourself, “That’ s her.”
“That’s him.” Then to
each other, “I know!
Let’s go out for breakfast!”

“Take Love for Granted” by Jack Ridl

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moods of nature

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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 heart yearns to visit
the Emerald Isle
on the other side of this pond.
life is different there,
yet the same.
I watch as 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 him.
I am waiting for my moment.
resting for the next phase of flight.
and in the fullness of time,
at just the right moment,
I will take a breath and
fly.
staying close to the water,
my source of life,
as the epic journey home
continues.
My heart knows one thing for sure –
my love story has
a very happy ending

AL 4/15/13

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Morning light, green shoot,
door quietly opening,

what dawns upon you
that hadn’t before,

pilgrimage toward this moment,
first step at the Red Sea,

so much left behind,
and what abides,

and who,
and what is not yet,

what you have and
what will be provided,

divine promise,
its keeping yet to come,

new, and yet from of old
prepared, awaited,

led into the room
already set for you,

without your being able to know
what blessing is in store,

how you are needed here,
what grace is about to unfold.

First day of school.
Let there be light.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
http://www.unfoldinglight.net

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The Crest at Reserve of Turpin

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for Anni

All I do these drawn-out days
is sit in my kitchen at Pheasant Ridge
where there are no pheasants to be seen
and last time I looked, no ridge.

I could drive over to Quail Falls
and spend the day there playing bridge,
but the lack of a falls and the absence of quail
would only remind me of Pheasant Ridge.

I know a widow at Fox Run
and another with a condo at Smokey Ledge.
One of them smokes, and neither can run,
so I’ll stick to the pledge I made to Midge.

Who frightened the fox and bulldozed the ledge?
I ask in my kitchen at Pheasant Ridge.

The Golden Years
by Billy Collins

Dearest Anni,
Congratulations on your newest beginning. I will scatter walnuts under your bushes for you to discover regularly. Perhaps Sarah Margaret could do the vista?
I love you my lovely friend

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miracles of losing

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I lost my shadow to find myself
I lost my house to find my home
I lost my money to find my value
I lost my motherhood to find my children
I lost my belongings to find my treasure
I lost my song to find my words
I lost my words to find my silence
I lost my illusions to find my voice
I lost my ego to find my truth
I lost my knowing to understand
I lost my anger to find my peace
I lost all my people to find my friends
I lost my insecurity to find my joy
I lost my surety to find my mystery
I lost my perfect to find my human
I lost my dogma to find my divine
I lost my seeing to find my sight
I lost my pride to find my beauty
I lost my fear to find my faith
I lost my religion to find my love
I lost the world to find eternity
I lost my failure to find my victory
I lost my light to find my dark
I lost my dark to find my fire
I lost my will to find my life
I lost my life to be reborn

Sometimes you have to lose everything you think is most important,
to find what really is.

AL 8/22/14

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That day I carried the dream around like a full glass of water, moving gracefully so I would not lose any of it. – Miranda July

oh yeah, it’s a brand spankin’ new day!!’

You wake with
no aches
in the arms
of your beloved
to the smell of fresh coffee
you eat a giant breakfast
with no thought
of carbs
there is time to read
with a purring cat on your lap
later you walk by the ocean
with your dog
on this cut crystal day
your favorite music and the sun
fill the house
a short delicious nap
under a fleece throw
comes later
and the phone doesn’t ring
at dusk you roast a chicken,
bake bread, make an exquisite
chocolate cake
for some friends
you’ve been missing
someone brings you an
unexpected present
and the wine is just right with the food
after a wonderful party
you sink into sleep
in a clean nightgown
in fresh sheets
your sweetheart doesn’t snore
and in your dreams
an old piece of sadness
lifts away

“The Perfect Day” by Alice N. Persons

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