life: acoustic & amplified

poetry, quotes & thoughts about life

Archive for the category “mystery”

bullfrogs and writing poems

  There are no creatures you cannot love.
A frog calling at God

From the moon-filled ditch

As you stand on the country road in the June night.

The sound is enough to make the stars weep

With happiness.

In the morning the landscape green

Is lifted off the ground by the scent of grass.

The day is carried across its hours

Without any effort by the shining insects

That are living their secret lives.

The space between the prairie horizons

Makes us ache with its beauty.

Cottonwood leaves click in an ancient tongue

To the farthest cold dark in the universe.

The cottonwood also talks to you

Of breeze and speckled sunlight.

You are at home in these

great empty places

along with red-wing blackbirds and sloughs.

You are comfortable in this spot

so full of grace and being

that it sparkles like jewels

spilled on water. 

🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸

From a Country Overlooked by Tom Hennen

 

 Some days the words flow
all day

pouring

smooth and beautiful

words dancing

in streams 

like fish in a pond

jumping in the sun

while bullfrogs 

talk –

their amazing 

deep bass voices

croaking conversations 

vibrating through the air

and grasshoppers 

scrape their legs 

like bows on violin strings

in that cool raspy sound

free form jazz

only they can make. 

these are sounds 

that define summer

for all of us 

southern girls and boys

who grew up in the country

where our entertainment 

was driving through town 

waving to each other

playing country music 

or Lynyrd Skynyrd

loud 

on truck radios

while coke-a-cola

and kick-a-boo joy juice

keeps us cool 

as we hold hands

and sneak kisses

yes, some days

words flow like a 

hot summer night

in the south

and some days

all the words fly north

and I am bare naked bones

searching 

bereft 

trying to light 

wild fires in wet fields

trees with bare branches 

scrape the grey sky

nothing is beautiful

no birds sing

the flow 

is frozen 

in time

I sit 

like a Bronte novel heroine

in my moldy wedding dress

alone

in silence

waiting

for my lover

to return to me

AL 🐸

 

 Listen to Ella & Louis sing Summetime http://youtu.be/lnXLVTi_m_M
🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸

photo sources found at www.pinterest.com

 

go quietly

  
  

 Listen to Chris Tomlin sing Take My Life http://youtu.be/agROj9nTQP4

 

God shows up

  Nobody loves such days,
everything smudged in powdered lead,
the whites all off, the blacks dull

like the bad side of a mirror.

Yet in a world of shadows

what matters are not the highlights

but the shades of grays.

This river, for instance, a sooty snake

mirroring an oatmeal sky.

But watch it eddy and swirl,

and gradually the lead turns silver, begins

to blaze from within, as if begging the sun

to bust out of its straight-jacket.

And shine. Which the sun very nearly does.

But in the end, it can’t be bothered.

It says, Sparkle yourself.

And eventually we do. Van Gogh returns

to the sea-light of his youth.

Sews the ear back on.

Trades his magentas and cyans

for a # 2 pencil. It is all in the shading,

he realizes. The pursuit of raging hues

was madness. God, no longer

in the rainbowed flame,

but in this wan, uncertain earthlight:

this almost-shimmer on a river.

Whatever plain brown paper wrapper

the day comes in. 

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Gray Scale by Richard Schiffman

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

 Listen and watch Gene Kelly Singing in the Rain http://youtu.be/D1ZYhVpdXbQ

starlight…have you anything to say to me??

 
When Laurens van der Post one night

      In the Kalihari Desert told the Bushmen

              He couldn’t hear the stars

Singing, they didn’t believe him. They looked at him,

      Half-smiling. They examined his face

              To see whether he was joking

Or deceiving them. Then two of those small men

      Who plant nothing, who have almost

              Nothing to hunt, who live

On almost nothing, and with no one

      But themselves, led him away

              From the crackling thorn-scrub fire

And stood with him under the night sky

      And listened. One of them whispered,

              Do you not hear them now?

And van der Post listened, not wanting

      To disbelieve, but had to answer,

              No. They walked him slowly

Like a sick man to the small dim

      Circle of firelight and told him

              They were terribly sorry,

And he felt even sorrier

      For himself and blamed his ancestors

              For their strange loss of hearing,

Which was his loss now. On some clear nights

      When nearby houses have turned off their televisions,

              When the traffic dwindles, when through streets

Are between sirens and the jets overhead

      Are between crossings, when the wind

              Is hanging fire in the fir trees,

And the long-eared owl in the neighboring grove

      Between calls is regarding his own darkness,

              I look at the stars again as I first did

To school myself in the names of constellations

      And remember my first sense of their terrible distance,

              I can still hear what I thought

At the edge of silence where the inside jokes

      Of my heartbeat, my arterial traffic,

              The C above high C of my inner ear, myself

Tunelessly humming, but now I know what they are:

      My fair share of the music of the spheres

              And clusters of ripening stars,

Of the songs from the throats of the old gods

      Still tending even tone-deaf creatures

              Through their exiles in the desert.

πŸŒŸπŸŒŸπŸŒŸπŸŒŸπŸŒŸπŸŒŸπŸŒŸπŸŒŸπŸŒŸπŸŒŸπŸŒ™πŸŒŸ

The Silence of the Stars by David Wagoner 

 
Listen to Ella Fitzgerald sing Stella by Starlight http://youtu.be/xDQ-Erg3KlQ

πŸŒŸπŸŒ™πŸŒŸπŸŒŸπŸŒŸπŸŒŸπŸŒŸπŸŒŸπŸŒŸπŸŒŸπŸŒŸ

photo sources found at www.pinterest.com/al513 

what makes the world go round?

 big sky

crazy love

open ended 

possibility

sand witch-ing it’s way

through toes

meat between bread 

celebrating the Earl of long ago

drifting wood

holding the soundtracks 

of love arriving new born

green

yet stronger than distance

touching us 

accepting 

giving

receiving 

healing

bringing

restoring

birds fly free in the baby blue

fireworks boom

life spins into proper position

we carry on

brighter than the sun

AL 

😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

Listen to Dean Martin sing That’s Amore http://youtu.be/OnFlx2Lnr9Q 
  

  

practice

    listen to Kate Earl sing Nobody http://youtu.be/imIxwxpd04E

πŸ’‘πŸ’‘πŸ’‘πŸ’‘πŸ’‘πŸ’‘πŸ’‘πŸ’‘

photo sources found at www.pinterest.com/al513

what are you looking for?Β 

When our eyes are graced with wonder, the world reveals its wonders to us. There are people who see only dullness in the world and that is because their eyes have already been dulled. So much depends on how we look at things. The quality of our looking determines what we come to see.     – John O’Donohue

 
  

  

   

  

  

 

  

Listen to Jason Mraz sing I’m Yours http://youtu.be/wIFh9hYongk

quote photo sources found at www.pinterest.com/al513 

leaps & boundsΒ 

 
When you send forth your spirit, we are created

                  β€”Psalm 104.30

Holy One,

         breath of the big bang,

         idea of creation,

you who make spring come forth,

         who make life out of nothing,

breathe yourself into me.

         Create me.

you are the flame,

         I am your light.

You are the nerve,

         I am your muscle.

You are the Word,

         I am the story.

You are the song,

         I am the singing.

I am one with you

         and one with all Creation.

One Spirit, 

         one flesh, many forms.

In your Spirit 

         I am we.

Holy One, live in me;
         I am your body.

I remember,

         and I live. 

__________________  

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

http://www.unfoldinglight.net

πŸŒŒπŸŒ„πŸŒ…πŸ—»πŸŒˆπŸ—ΎπŸŒ‹πŸŒ πŸŒ

my words my world my earth my sky

   you are them all

my notes my music my score my song

    you are them all

my heart my soul my mind my life

   you are them all

my blood my breath my skin my bones

   you are them all 

everything I am everything I hope to be

    you are them all

AL 

 

Listen to Amos Lee sing Learned A Lot http://youtu.be/wgzFPP-Fa8o 
πŸ—ΎπŸŒ πŸ—»πŸŒ„πŸŒπŸŒˆπŸŒŒπŸŒ‹πŸŒ…

photo sources found at www.pinterest.com/al513

[God] seems to delight in using the unexpected, the least likely, or the weakest link to turn our lives upside down and inside out . . . and fulfill the plan he has had in mind since the beginning of time.

~ Thelma Well

   

πŸ’ž  

super power

  With love so sudden and so sweet,

Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower
And stole my heart away complete.
My face turned pale as deadly pale.
My legs refused to walk away,
And when she looked, what could I ail?
My life and all seemed turned to clay.

And then my blood rushed to my face
And took my eyesight quite away,
The trees and bushes round the place
Seemed midnight at noonday.
I could not see a single thing,
Words from my eyes did start –
They spoke as chords do from the string,
And blood burnt round my heart.

Are flowers the winter’s choice?
Is love’s bed always snow?
She seemed to hear my silent voice,
Not love’s appeals to know.
I never saw so sweet a face
As that I stood before.
My heart has left its dwelling-place
And can return no more

πŸ’žπŸ’žπŸ’žπŸ’žπŸ’žπŸ’žπŸ’žπŸ’žπŸ’žπŸ’žπŸ’ž

First Love by John Clare
  
   

     

Listen to Englad Dan and John Ford Coley sing http://youtu.be/_QZjJU-mtFU
πŸ’žπŸ’žπŸ’žπŸ˜πŸ’žπŸ’žπŸ’žπŸ’žπŸ’ž

quote photos found at www.pinterest.com/al513


unseen business

 Because no one could ever praise me enough,
because I don’t mean these poems only
but the unseen
unbelievable effort it takes to live
the life that goes on between them,
I think all the time about invisible work.
About the young mother on Welfare
I interviewed years ago,
who said, “It’s hard.
You bring him to the park,
run rings around yourself keeping him safe,
cut hot dogs into bite-sized pieces for dinner,
and there’s no one
to say what a good job you’re doing,
how you were patient and loving
for the thousandth time even though you had a headache.”
And I, who am used to feeling sorry for myself
because I am lonely,
when all the while,
as the Chippewa poem says, I am being carried
by great winds across the sky,
thought of the invisible work that stitches up the world day and night,
the slow, unglamorous work of healing,
the way worms in the garden
tunnel ceaselessly so the earth can breathe
and bees ransack this world into being,
while owls and poets stalk shadows,
our loneliest labors under the moon.

There are mothers
for everything, and the sea
is a mother too,
whispering and whispering to us
long after we have stopped listening.
I stopped and let myself lean
a moment, against the blue
shoulder of the air. The work
of my heart
is the work of the world’s heart.
There is no other art.

πŸ’¨πŸ’¨πŸ’¨πŸ’¨πŸ’¨πŸ’¨πŸ’¨πŸ’¨πŸŒ…πŸ’¨
 
 There are prayers that God hears

That may not even noticed
by the one praying –
The eyes lifted in awe to a sunset. 
The beach comber picking up rocks as she grieves huge losses. 
The deep breath before entering the office of the abusive, power-hungry boss. 
The smell of your first cup of coffee. 
The watery laughter through brimming tears of the overwhelmed new mother. 
The patience of the store clerk doing his best with the impatient standing in line. 
The smiles of the people who know the secret of choosing to live life well. 
The accomplished weariness at the end of a good days work. 
The ride to home after 17 years of waiting. 
The beautiful silence of a couple sitting together holding hands. 
Candles burning in the darkness their shadows dancing on the walls. 
The smell of an old library. 
The many tastes of freedom. 
Sharing gifts with others because you know there is ALWAYS enough. 
Finding something special on the sidewalk. 

Waking up with someone to smile with. 
The list never ends – 
It’s why we are told to pray continually – 
Keep naming. 
Stay aware. 
Living as if everything is the miracle that it truly is –
Everything is grace. 
Our world is the spoken word of God,
we breathe the very breath of God which brought us to life,
and, as God said,
It is very good. 
 
AL 2/18/14

 My soul, wait silently for God alone, for my expectation is from him. Psalm 62:5
Our prayers lay the track down on which God’s power can come.      

 – Watchman Nee 
Listen to Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers sing It’ll All Work Out http://youtu.be/M_ftfh1z2Xc 
πŸŒ…πŸŒ…πŸŒ…πŸŒ…πŸŒ…πŸŒ…πŸŒ…πŸŒ…πŸŒ…πŸŒ…πŸŒ…πŸŒ…

photo sources found at www.pinterest.com/al513

  

Sent from my iPhone

 

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