life: acoustic & amplified

poetry, quotes & thoughts about life

Archive for the category “Lonely”

blues jam

quest for that shade of blue

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


    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:

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



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

smoke screens


“Smoke on the Water” in Cincinnati on 12/6/15 as captured by Wayne Clause

 I stand where I am
lost between worlds

the past is gone

the present space between 

a foggy future 

not fully workable

full of hard edges


empty air

lack of conversation 

missing soft expression 



my fingers clasp wispy dream clouds 

of you

of love 

of home

of music

my tired hopes hang on by threads 

longing for what I want 

a home for living full of love and happy

building a life

eating food made with love

friendship filled with





touch to sooth our sore places

arms to hold and be held

keep me safe 

let me breathe a little easier

laugh a little

sing a lot

covering me 

surrounding me with love





So much that was 

good in her, 

so much in me, 

cut off now 

from the future 

in which we 

grew together.

through the window 

of my new house 

that hawthorn’s 

crooked faithful 

trunk round 

an old and broken 


my mouth dumb

and Dante’s voice

instead of mine 

from the open book.
‘Brother, our love 

has laid our wills to rest. 

Making us long 

only for what is ours 

and by no other thirst 

Our life not lived 


must still 

live on apart, 

longing only 

for what is ours 


each grow round the missed branch 

as best we can, 

claim what is ours 


though not forget 

loved memories, 

nor that life 

still loved by memory, 

nor the hurts 

through which we 


tried to learn 

Our pilgrim journey 

apart or together, 

like the thirst 

of everything 

to find its true form, 

the grain of the wood 

round the hatched knot 

still straightening 

toward the light.




‘THE SEA IN YOU: Twenty Poems of Requited and Unrequited Love’

© David Whyte and Many Rivers Press

Now Available at


what matters most 


She has come to sense the inner world goes deep, indeed deeper than the wounds and breakages that others inflict. The contemplative has broken through to that sanctuary in the soul where love dwells. Crucial to this contemplative journey is the trust and imagination to realize that regardless of how you have been damaged, there is within you a sanctuary of deep love, trust and belonging. This is the ancient dream, the masterpiece of divine creativity: the creation of the human heart. Before time – back in the winter of nothingness and then all through the infinite springtime of evolution – the dream was the birth of an intimate well of kindness, care and love in the world, dwelling in the tabernacle of the human heart. 

John O’Donohue 

Excerpt from BEAUTY

 dear lord in this time of darkness
help us see the darkness
dear lord help us to not pretend

no more pretending
dear lord may our gaze be defenseless 

and unshardable 
teach us the piety of the open eye 
dear lord in this time of darkness

may we be unafraid to mourn and together and hugely
may dignity lose its scaffolding

faces crumble like bricks
dear lord let grief come to grief
and then o lord help us to see the bees yet in the lavender

the spokes of sunlight down through the oaks
and the sleep-opened face of the beloved

and the afternoon all around her 

and her small freckled hands


Prayer by Teddy Macker


Hearts out searching for a home
that one place where we belong

it’s a cold dark night here lately

but I have seen the light

home is your arms 

holding me tight
deeper and deeper into the beautiful 

waking my heart to sing this song

fly with me as flames grow higher

passion flaming deep desire

touching us on this dark night
There are times when life goes hazy

that place we all fall down

life can be so hard my baby

will you hold the line tonight?

open up your heart and fight 
we can do it together

love’s the place where dreams come true

we can make it together 

I believe we can make it

there is hope in this moment 

there is hope in the sky

when days go dark and lonely baby

as long as stars are burning bright

there is hope

there is hope, ’cause

they burn for you

oh baby 

we can make it through



Listen to Time of the Season by The Zombies


photos found at 

what’s meant to be will be


 Longing for what I don’t have,

aware of the great space between us,

not driven to fill it,
yet there is a loneliness, a waiting,
not sadness, not pathetic at all,
but a homesickness,
remembering what I long for,
what I long to know,
patient with my unknowing, 
and the dull, burning ache of my knowing,
trusting there is always more of love
than I can sense,
a great, wide solitude
I won’t clutter with less or other.

Such spaciousness leaves room
for these deep sighs
and profound joys
and mostly these calm, roomy smiles 

I find sprinkled generously 
throughout any given day. 

ACL 4/11/15

(edited from Unfolding Light Waiting Thomas by Steve Garnaas-Holmes)






Listen to Desperado Linda Ronstadt

Photo sources at

good friday


come with Jesus to the lynching tree
we stand aside and nod
good thing it wasn’t you or me
but just some lamb of god

we sing our hymns we know them well
we sing our righteous songs
and so we send that boy to hell
for that will right our wrongs

some people weeping in the street
they cry the lynching tree
but we can’t quit the judgment seat
the way it has to be

the boy is dead lay out the pall
it’s finished move along
but how come he forgives us all
before we know it’s wrong

how come the god we slight and say
that it’s all right to kill
the god who died comes back our way
and loves us loves us still

it looks so dark the lynching tree
so dark for you and me
but here’s the strangest thing I see
a bud upon that tree

Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light

Listen to Adele sing


photo source found at

the space between is very full


Somewhere in the in-between
I’ll meet you there.
Somewhere between the friends benches
from one to infinity –
and the Constable’s at the BAM
Between unexpected Mondays
and snow storms of epic proportion.
Somewhere in the in-between
of stained-glass Tiffany windows
and those in the old, cold, beautiful church –
that’s where you’ll see me waiting.
Somewhere in the in-between,
on a street corner with our names intersecting,
on a spring day, before the flowers bloom,
or falling on my behind in a pile of snow, in the middle of winter,
laughing, and loving, weather of all sorts,
that’s where I’ll be hangin’ out, gettin’ rained on.
Somewhere in the in-between
of Louis’ Wonderful World,
Sam and Ruby singing the truth,
Cause Ain’t Love Somethin?
and Suzane Vega not allowing the wish for Caramel,
there’s where I’ll be.
That’s where I’ll always be,
waiting for an adventure with you.
Somewhere in the in-between
of stars, dust, lovers, Anam Cara – soul friend, kindness, beauty and truth,
Right there blazing glory, in the middle of the gray.
Yes, somewhere in between the in-between,
I’ll meet you right there,
my dearest, darling friend,
I’ll see you there,
Cause that’s where we always meet,
where we’ve always known each other.
Somewhere in the in-between
of heaven and earth.

AL 10/02/13

Sent from my iPhone


on our way

You are on your way from Jerusalem to Jericho,
going out from the heart of your religion into your daily life.
Along the way you are assaulted.
Whatever your religion has given you is taken.
You are stripped of a good way to present yourself.
You are robbed of your worthiness, whatever is to your credit.

The priest who would receive your sacrifice is not interested.
The Levite who would assure your righteousness does not.
You have no power, no treasure, nothing to offer,
nothing with which to prove or defend yourself.
You are utterly dependent, and deeply alone.
There is no reason to love you.
And your enemy draws near and bends over you.
Your fear, what you reject and despise, looms.

And heals you.
The one you distance makes you a neighbor.
The one you judge shows you mercy.
The one you refuse to love loves you.

We are loved without reason.
We are saved, not successful.
Only the one dependent on mercy can show us mercy.
Only the vulnerable can teach us trust.
We need the poor, to learn to receive.
We need the guilty, to learn to be forgiven.
We need the alien, to see ourselves, and all souls.

Without them, how destitute we are
on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho,
poor and naked, lost in the land of grace,
love draining out of us, ravenously sucking on our egos,
shivering in the rags of our self-sufficiency.

I don’t know about trusting the Lord
what the mother in the projects knows.
I don’t understand forgiveness like the prisoner.
I need to learn humility from the prostitute.
I will truly get mercy only side by side
with those who have no other hope.

The Samaritan I fear and despise
is my teacher, my master,
my savior,
my Christ.

Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light


the thin thread in the dark

1aThe past 5 months have been some of the toughest I have ever experienced – and I have been through some tough times over these past 23 years – but the past 5 months have been brutal. They have worn me down and out. My faith has been strong and I have had miracles and amazing people come into my life to help me in every way possible, but there is something about day after day of this type of faith – walking for months in extremely difficult living, months of having no money, pain and grief from loss. Living with no relief for months on end, not knowing where you will eat or sleep next – which wears you out and drains your resources to the very last drop.

And then one day, after 127 days of this, I woke up and it was the day I had known could happen. The day I had feared would come. The day I had dreaded and tried to keep from coming. It was upon me. I woke up with no hope and all was dark. I’ve had a few such days, weeks, even  months over these past years and they are some of the hardest, bleakest of times I have ever experienced. I shudder when I think about them. I wasn’t able to write, or share during those times. I would completely shut myself off and not even talk to people for the most part. When I have gone into the dark, it has been me, alone, locked into the darkness struggling to find God, to find my way forward, my way out, wrestling with the questions which have no answer. I am always concerned I won’t make it, I won’t recover, I won’t come out, I won’t have the strength to make this next choice I need to make – I will finally just give up and stay there. Everything I have hoped for, and struggled so hard for, will never be accomplished and I will die of my brokenness. This time was different, this time I had no defense and there was no more fight, no more struggle.

Somehow in the darkest of my days, I am always given some thin thread of hope. Sometimes just a whisper. A glimpse of God working. When I can’t. God does. Every time. I have found that I am never alone. God is always in the dark with me, and that is why my faith has taken over my life. I have found the love of God to be so transformative I have nothing else I can do but to remove my will so that God can, hopefully, be seen more and more –

Union with God means every bit of our human nature transfigured in Christ, woven up into his creative life and activity, into his redeeming purpose, heart soul, mind and strength. Each time it happens it means that one of God’s creatures has achieved its destiny.                                                – Evelyn Underhill

As I move through this darness I am more and more aware of the magnitude of God. I am finding glimpses of devastating grace and am learning how little I know about the mystery and magnitude of God.

The next few days I will be sharing some insights from my place of darkness. This darkness has been a scary thing to encounter and I pray that it is the right thing to share it. This is new territory for me and I am not sure where it will lead me. My constant prayer is, ‘Help me – Not my will, but Thine be done.”

I share this to bring hope to myself, and to others who also find themselves in the darkness, it’s always easier when we walk together. Once again I have found, I do not know the answers to this mystery and we are never alone.

where the dark things are

4aMost of our Advent traditions formed centuries ago among Christian and  pre-Christian Celtic and Germanic peoples, as they approached the winter solstice.  So there’s a lot about darkness, stillness and silence.   Farmers removed idle wagon wheels to make wreaths with candles,  reflecting on the fallow season of waiting and hope. All this darkness  and cold might sound a little off to you who live in Australia, where  summer’s about to begin, or South Africa or Brazil, or for that matter  even Texas. While we’re singing about the “bleak midwinter” the folks in Corpus Christi and Adelaide go to the beach.

We call this a  season of silence and stillness―notice how may carols have silence in  them―but we’re rushing around, busier than ever, and making more noise  than usual ringing bells and singing in public, if you can believe it!  We’re playing music and stringing up extra lights as if to banish the  very darkness and silence we adore.

The darkness and quiet of  December in the north country is a symbol, but not the whole of it.  After all, there isn’t that much bleak, dark midwinter in Bethlehem―and  actually Jesus probably wasn’t born in the winter anyway. “The dawn that breaks upon those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death” has  nothing to do with latitude. The darkness of Advent is the darkness  within, and the darkness of a fearful, competitive world.  The silence  is the deep silence at the center of our souls.  That’s where Advent  happens, and the birth of Christ unfolds.

Where is the darkness in your life? Where are the places in your life where you can’t see,  where the known disappears into the unknown?  Where is that place in  your awareness where you can be without “seeing,” without knowing or  understanding, and be at peace?

Where is the silence in you?  You won’t find it “out there.” Go within. Sit with it.  Sit with it a lot,  and let it speak to you in the language of angels, the language of God,  which is silence.

Your wagon wheels may not be idle, but there is a place of quiet in your soul. Where are the empty places in your  life?  We might feel uncomfortable about  emptiness, but an empty place  is one where the Christ child can come when there is “no room in the  inn” elsewhere. Perhaps even the painfully empty places―the places of  loss, bereavement, poverty or fruitlessness―maybe these are places where even now angels are gathering.

Don’t expect the world to offer  you darkness, silence and stillness.  Go to where  they are, and wait  there. God will meet you there.

Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light

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