Todays weather calls for
Sunny outlook
with occasional clouds floating through
a few showers always possible
through out the day
daisies sure to peek out of the green grass
just to smile for me
wine and laughter at sunset
moon tonight
full of you
with a sweet dream or two
and more than a few songs
sure to drift through me
continuing on
into my sleeping hours
Waking to a great new day of promise tomorrow
🔁
Amy Lloyd (AL)
You are the bread and the knife,
The crystal goblet and the wine…
-Jacques Crickillon
You are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.
You are the white apron of the baker,
and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.
However, you are not the wind in the orchard,
the plums on the counter,
or the house of cards.
And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.
There is just no way that you are the pine-scented air.
It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,
maybe even the pigeon on the general’s head,
but you are not even close
to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.
And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the boots in the corner
nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.
It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of rain on the roof.
I also happen to be the shooting star,
the evening paper blowing down an alley
and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.
I am also the moon in the trees
and the blind woman’s tea cup.
But don’t worry, I’m not the bread and the knife.
You are still the bread and the knife.
You will always be the bread and the knife,
not to mention the crystal goblet and–somehow–the wine.
🍷
Litany by Billy Collins
They tell me that euphoria is the feeling of feeling wonderful, well,
today I feel euphorian,
Today I have the agility of a Greek god and the appetite of a Vic-
torian.
Yes, today I may even go forth without my galoshes,
Today I am a swashbuckler, would anybody like me to buckle any
swashes?
This is my euphorian day,
I will ring welkins and before anybody answers I will run away.
I will tame me a caribou
And bedeck it with marabou.
I will pen me my memoirs.
Ah youth, youth! What euphorian days them was!
I wasn’t much of a hand for the boudoirs,
I was generally to be found where the food was.
Does anybody want any flotsam?
I’ve gotsam.
Does anybody want any jetsam?
I can getsam.
I can play chopsticks on the Wurlitzer,
I can speak Portuguese like a Berlitzer.
I can don or doff my shoes without tying or untying the laces be-
cause I am wearing moccasins,
And I practically know the difference between serums and anti-
toccasins.
Kind people, don’t think me purse-proud, don’t set me down as
vainglorious,
I’m just a little euphorious.
😜
No Doctors Today, Thank You by Ogden Nash
Pieces
When we die
maybe we all come rushing
together with joy
with pieces of each other that
we’ve had all along,
exchanging treasures,
so happy to see each other,
to find ourselves
again.
So, why do we wait?
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
So I woke up and was going to do a post about grief and heartbreak…but then this came to me from Jen Lemen and changed my mind! Enjoy!!! More Soul Snacks could be on the way! You will get lots of crazy good stuff!!! Sign up now! xo
When the light lessens,
Causing colors to lose their courage,
And your eyes fix on the empty distance
That can open on either side
Of the surest line
To make all that is
Familiar and near
Seem suddenly foreign,
When the music of talk
Breaks apart into noise
And you hear your heart louden
While the voices around you
Slow down to leaden echoes
Turning the silence Into something stony and cold,
When the old ghosts come back
To feed on everywhere you felt sure,
Do not strengthen their hunger
By choosing to fear;
Rather, decide to call on your heart
That it may grow clear and free
To welcome home your emptiness
That it may cleanse you
Like the clearest air
You could ever breathe.
Allow your loneliness time
To dissolve the shell of dross
That had closed around you;
Choose in this severe silence
To hear the one true voice
Your rushed life fears;
Cradle yourself like a child
Learning to trust what emerges,
So that gradually
You may come to know
That deep in that black hole
You will find the blue flower
That holds the mystical light
Which will illuminate in you
The glimmer of springtime.
💙
A Blessing for Loneliness by John O’Donohue
Alone and lost
at the edge
of an ocean
of memories,
a heart of the deepest blue
beats
to the slow monotony
of a swaying metronome;
found in the crashing waves
of a dark desolate shore.
The weeping wind,
with its hidden whispers,
murmurs her name;
as nights they walked
hand in hand
flashback into view.
Haunting the torn fabric of his soul.
💔
Shipwrecked heart by AllPoetry member, Halosonthemoon
read the rest here: http://ow.ly/eO4E302oGFH
when I ride the nights ragged hours
when my loneliness rages with ruthless, restless, too warm turning
when heaven is that smudge of light
seen beside the farthest star
when sleep is torn from my hungry grasp
and I am left without an inch of satisfaction
from the feathers beneath my head
when I open my eyes to the same shade of black
I see with them closed
then I feel the disappearance of my desire to conform
my self is borderless at 3 am
my pretensions dissolve into this dark
I surrender to my grief
as well as to my hope
I swim to the other end of the bed
to cooler pastures
I visit the sheep
living among the stuff
down there
I listen as they recited the 23rd Psalm
to reassure my nervous entering
in that strange world
I hear all the sounds from this new dimension
my mind takes on the shape of new perspective
alert to this unusual adventure
I cry a little
laugh a little
think about the glory of love
the world turns on its axis
I breath free
I fly home
💞
AL
I am a sheep
and I like it
because the grass
I lie down in
feels good and the still
waters are restful and right
there if I’m thirsty
and though some valleys
are very chilly there is a long
rod that prods me so I
direct my hooves
the right way
though today
I’m trying hard
to sit at a table
because it’s expected
required really
and my enemies—
it turns out I have enemies—
are watching me eat and
spill my drink
but I don’t worry because
all my enemies do
is watch and I know
I’m safe if I will
just do my best
as I sit on this chair
that wobbles a bit
in the grass
on the side of a hill.
🐏
Here In The Psalm by Sally Fisher
Your great mistake is to act the drama
as if you were alone. As if life
were a progressive and cunning crime
with no witness to the tiny hidden
transgressions. To feel abandoned is to deny
the intimacy of your surroundings. Surely,
even you, at times, have felt the grand array;
the swelling presence, and the chorus, crowding
out your solo voice You must note
the way the soap dish enables you,
or the window latch grants you freedom.
Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity.
The stairs are your mentor of things
to come, the doors have always been there
to frighten you and invite you,
and the tiny speaker in the phone
is your dream-ladder to divinity.
Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into
the conversation. The kettle is singing
even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots
have left their arrogant aloofness and
seen the good in you at last. All the birds
and creatures of the world are unutterably
themselves. Everything is waiting for you.
🌎
Everything is Waiting for You by David Whyte
from Everything is Waiting for You
©2003 Many Rivers Press
photo sources found at pinterest.com
On Dec 3, 2014 (2 year anniversary of my living death in the dark night of the soul, I got a post titled Love never Dies from Jen Lemen at Hopeful World http://hopefulworld.org
Here’s a taste of what it said:
I am struck also as I write to you from this wintery desk, that building our capacity for stillness helps so much when the wild comes to our restless souls. Without that practice of being quiet, it’s easy to be scared when our wild, instinctual thoughts pop up. It’s easy to think that they are bad somehow or in need of corralling. But the practice of quiet and stillness helps us recognize our instinctual knowing for what it is: a call to our most true nature. A call to a kind of expression that is more vibrant, more textured, more passionate, more alive–even if it’s a little bit messy. Even if it kicks up a little bit of shame that we are this human, this raw.
So I invite you today to sit with me for three magic minutes. I’ll be right here with you, my own mind a rollercoaster of crazy, of frantic, of nonsensical worrisome things. I’ll sit with you and notice everything in my own soul, while you notice everything in yours and together we will begin to knit together an understanding of what’s underneath that noise: a gorgeous, exquisite tapestry of human longing designed to carry us to an awake magnificent place.
Will you join me?
Setting the timer now.
Let me know how it is on the other side.
With so much love,
Jen
It’s now 3.5 years later and Jen Lemen is still bringing all that, and more to me, to you, to the shaky, hoping world, to the edges of eternity…love never dies.
Today, in this crazy, brutal brutal place, where we ask…
how can these two people be our Presidential choices?
how can people keep killing other people?
how can I deal with the grief and the fear of this?
how can I help?
what is the solution?
what is my part?
Jen Lemen is doing her part. She’s offering Soul Snacks –
http://www.thewayofdevotion.org/soul-snacks
Amazing gifts to all of of struggling, hungry, hurting, angry, frustrated pilgrims and poets.
Right now she has open enrollment and I have just this…
Don’t wait! http://www.thewayofdevotion.org/soul-snacks
Gobble this up, savor it a bite at a time, eat them from start to finish, or nibble from the middle to each edge of crust. Savory, delectable soul-spices involving all your most subtle senses.
http://www.thewayofdevotion.org/soul-snacks
I
💞
Keep wrestling, burn, scream, let go, melt, let your heart keep breaking for the sake of your heart, keep saying the names of your people, fiercely defend your tenderness, think, grieve, repair, renew, continue to do what’s in your heart to do…each thread matters…each color makes the world more beautiful…
in the end, only love is eternal, only love remains…
http://www.thewayofdevotion.org/soul-snacks
🔥
AL
We are God’s thread
weaving through the tapestry,
the masterpiece is slowly
created.
Potential for beauty, we can’t know,
unfolding,
becoming,
revealing glory
so bright
it makes the sun squint
and reach for sunglasses.
Brilliance so far beyond ourselves
we go shining into the gray
as we open to the new jewels appearing,
sparkling in the moonlight.
As we step into the needle’s eye
the angels catch their breath,
cheering our blazing garments,
dazzled by the vision
God is revealing through the creation.
As we surrender to the greatest mystery,
the beauty we inhabit
becomes us,
walking in humble clay
eyes out shining the stars
set in the heavens.
Until we totally disappear and all that’s left
is holiness
so pure
all we can do
is
bow in wonder
at ourselves
and give thanks
as the silk thread
becomes liquid gold and silver
pure and simple
glory
as we realize our place in the whole.
We are the temple of our creator.
The home of God.
😎
AL
As deftly and finally as one pulls out a thread
someone is weaving them, gracefully tying them,
minute and irreversible.
In the towering sky, even under the fortress,
root tendrils muscle in and bind ligaments
through an abyss we had been told was absolute.
No enormity of terror
can keep up
with the steady, unseen healing.
Before the assault, the horrible wound,
gaping and exposed,
the stitching has already begun.
Even as we sigh in our own world,
moving on, separate,
we are being sewn in.
In the earthquake, the collapsing mountains,
not a bit of rubble falls
on the path from the temple.
If you could hold your immortal soul
in your hands, you would hardly recognize it
from one moment to the next.
Your grave is already empty.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
photo sources found at pinterest.com
Real power has nothing to do with force, control, status, or money. Real power is the persistent courage to be at ease with the unsolved and the unfinished. To be able to recognize, in the scattered graffiti of your desires, the signature of the eternal.
💞
John O’Donohue
Excerpt from ETERNAL ECHOES
there’s laughter in the air
flickering like candle light
touching hearts and ears
floating,
feather-like,
through the air around us,
between us.
Soaking into our pores,
permeating our bones,
healing us,
making us strong.
Why should we worry?
so, there’s a black cloud above us..
Let it stay…
or let it go….
let’s laugh till your bellies hurts.
Then laugh some more,
until the sun comes out
just to find the reason,
Till all the corners of the world
need to wipe their eyes with us,
and, then, we all take a great, big sigh of relief…
😂
AL
such beautiful sunset photos taken today by my very, very special Allie Dolan, aka: Allie-girl. So blessed and grateful to have her back in my life 💞 @ Branford, CT
Blessings
occur.
Some days I find myself
putting my foot in
the same stream twice;
leading a horse to water
and making him drink.
I have a clue.
I can see the forest
for the trees.
All around me people
are making silk purses
out of sows’ ears,
getting blood from turnips,
building Rome in a day.
There’s a business
like show business.
There’s something new
under the sun.
Some days misery
no longer loves company;
it puts itself out of its.
There’s rest for the weary.
There’s turning back.
There are guarantees.
I can be serious.
I can mean that.
You can quite
put your finger on it.
Some days I know
I am long for this world.
I can go home again.
And when I go
I can
take it with me.
❤️
Blessings by Ronald Wallace
A toast to an unexpected Monday
Yes, my friend, a toast!
Unexpected mondays are one of my very favorite things
Along with the unexpected moments in everyday.
For many years
I have looked for,
and always have found
in each day,
moments
Where I find myself breathless
suspended in the aha’s
of ordinary miracles,
the sharing the laughter hidden in our days –
the glory in the grey.
I, under the shadow of Walt Whitman,
seeing the miraculous in it all.
The simple pleasures,
which take our breath away
and remind us of our gift.
this moment.
Nothing more important than
this ordinary day
opening before us
like a sparkling present to unwrap.
Slowly.
Taking great care with the paper,
lingering over untying the satin ribbon,
Letting it slid beneath our fingers
Savoring the feeling
of the silk
in all of our senses.
Especially on the tip of our tongue.
This is passion.
This is life!
💞
AL
For a very long time we had these strange rules around prayers…we forgot the bow at the end of a thought, the lowering of not our head, or our shoulders , but our inner being. The way a heart can break at the sound of the word, Holy or Lord. The urgency of our words when we are lost in darkness or broken by grief. How words can be tangled in territory that seems foreign, but really, home doesn’t look like that at all.
I sat outside near the pergala this morning, where the trumpet vine is greening with strength and its power to flow with tendrils over twenty feet of wood, and the cardinals came to sit near me on the yellow wicker chair. Their song blending into my skin and I could feel the beat of their hearts as prayers grew within me, touching their backs and stroking the song coming forth into the morning hours. The sun beat warmth down to the bone and the sphere of time and space slid to the side of the garden where purple salvia has grown to a foot, and all the words of prayer that flow as love from Spirit, out into the world, came like silence from the realm of one beam of light, and I heard, and I witnessed, and I prayed…where the bow meets the stillness, is where I stayed…
Beauty,
Donna Knutson
photos by Fisherman Dan @ Branford, CT
I wonder if writing this poem
will spill you out of me
through my fingertips
will the ink become your blood
this paper your skin
for me to touch
again and again?
I wonder if stretching my hands to the sky,
while standing on my tiptoes
will release you into the blue
so you can fly free with me
into the starry sky
discovering all the worlds we have inside?
I wonder if I stand as tall, and as still, as a tree
you will come to me
climb up inside me
twist your arms and legs into my branches
hold me close and sleep with me always?
I wonder if I sing you a love song
if I will become a part your soul
and a part of mine
both of us sewn within the chords
of words and notes
absorbing our crazy love
into our very dna?
Will we ever begin becoming each other?
Forever becoming each other’s other?
mirrors of beauty
dancing eternally
within the aleph
where heaven meets the earth?
🌎
AL
Prayer comes in many forms. Beauty to bless the space between.
Setting priorities is a difficult process…
No, it’s not!
That’s just what I keep saying.
But, it’s really very simple –
Just this…
What is the most important thing(s) in my life?
How do I reorganize my life around
the most important thing(s)?
Am I willing to do the work focused on that/those?
Those questions are on me.
The answers are very clear,
very simple.
YES!
Ok, then…
Get busy
make your music happen
Focus
Work
Do it!
This is it!
Set your sites…
Now…
Go…
💃🏻
AL
Days the weather sits
in the endless sky,
the clouds drifting by.
The winter’s snow,
summer’s heat,
same street.
Nothing changes
but the faces, the people,
all the things they do
‘spite of heaven and hell
or city hall—
Nothing’s wiser than a moment.
No one’s chance
is simply changed by wishing,
right or wrong.
What you do is how you get along.
What you did is all it ever means.
😂
Place to Be by Robert Creeley
My mission in life is not merely to survive, but to thrive; and to do so with some passion, some compassion, some humor, and some style. – Maya Angelou
😘
Oh yes, this is my motto!!
These four things for the rest of my life:
Passion
Compassion
Humor
Style
Maya is my friend
She knows me well
We are soul connected in so many ways
Thank you, my sister
For your words
Your journey
Your passion
Your choices
I am ever grateful for your teaching
I will do my best to live
the same way you did
within the space I have been given
So my song
will be transformed from
breaking free from my cages
and I will sing my personal song
of freedom
🎼
AL
Don’t leave home without your sense of humor. Don’t come home without it either.
– Robert Moss
life: acoustic & amplified 