life: acoustic & amplified

poetry, quotes & thoughts about life

Archive for the category “Poetry”

sorrow

It is not into a Christmas card-perfect scene
of loveliness and reverence that Jesus comes,
but into this rough world
of poverty and human trafficking,
factory fires and school shootings.
Here, in our grief and terror,
and in our secret shame
of who we human beings are,
Jesus comes to bring us God’s love,
and also to show us who we really are.
Yes, it is awful that such tragedies happen at Christmas time,
but this is the time for them;
this is the whole point of Christmas:
it is into the darkness that the light comes.
Our world is full of violence and sadness,
but no sooner do terrible things happen
than God comes among us
to be with us in our brokenness,
with healing and forgiveness,
comes as a child—
amazing, always a child—
comes saying, “I still love you,
and even in world of hurt
I will always be with you.”
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
http://www.unfoldinglight.net

20121215-100511.jpg

poetry is a gift

Last issue of the year – Songs from the Valley newletter (a gift for you) over at www.songsfromthevalley.com

4a

This World Is Not Conclusion
Emily Dickinson.

this world is not conclusion
a species stands beyond –
invisible, as music –
but positive as sound –

it beckons, and it baffles
philosophy – don’t know –
and through a riddle, at the last –
sagacity must go –

to guess it, puzzles scholars –
to gain it, men have borne
contempt of generations
and crucifixion, shown –

faith slips – and laughs, and rallies –
blushes, if any see –
plucks at a twig of evidence –
and asks a vane, the way –

much gesture, from the pulpit –
strong hallelujahs roll –
narcotics cannot still the tooth
that nibbles at the soul –
________
Public Domain
4

as Henri Nouwen, Rumi & lots of others, remind us – everything is grace

a

The Guest House
by Rumi

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

Hello Life

I am heavy
Stepping with sand-bag feet
Slow
Hello life11 healing

 In this dark day
I look for beauty
     It’s always there

I wonder if I would have jumped
     or just gone back to die
If I had really known how hard it would be
year after year
on and on
with no relief
If I had known this day would be waiting for me

Do I really believe it will ever get better?
No answer comes
I move away from the question
I made my choice –
     it was the harder one

I go curl up in fetal position
In the Legacy Garden
On the round plaque with Wendell Berry’s words of understanding

     I part the out thrusting branches
     And come in beneath the blessed and the blessing trees. awendell berry
     Though I am silent
     There is singing around me.
     Though I am dark
     There is vision around me.
     Though I am heavy
There is flight around me.
                                    –  Wendell Berry

 I lay on the words
feel them
seeping in to my body
connecting me
comforting me
Life continues to flow

There is goodness right here in the dark
I can acknowledge it

I look up at the roof of the gondola
branches of painted ever-green summer leaves

Who cares if someone sees me?

P.S.  there ought to be a raven here somewhere

AL 12/3/12

change your story

TEN
In a dream more real than his daytime,

 a grown man meets himself.

Himself at just ten.

1a

With the light in his eyes.

And the world in his heart.

He sets out to explain to his young self why he’s taken the road to someone else’s somewhere.

But he can’t.

And in the deafening silence he shakes uncontrollably.

As the years of an unconsidered life spill over.

And in that silence everything changes.

Forever.

Perhaps the ten year old had been his very soul in disguise.

Come to shake him from the prison of his daytime.

Nic Askew
Soul Biographies

what’s in yours?

WHAT’S IN MY JUNK DRAWER

1a

A rubber-band sphere of emotion.
Two black and whites of me walking
in blue seersucker on Santorini, age ten.
The rainbow swirled super-ball that left a ding
in the ceiling of our first apartment in Baltimore.
Heinous thoughts of my best friend in sixth grade
telling me she had found someone else.
Two pair of tortoise shell glasses
I can’t see through anymore.
The verbal slap across the face
from Mlle Marechaux freshman year.
Six packs of spare buttons in mini-manila envelopes.
A thin gold band from a first marriage, discarded.
The stuffed bunny I won at “guess your age” on the midway.
Three Valentine’s Day cards from the year we were engaged.
Wadded up feelings from the year
Mama left us when I was thirteen.
The positive pregnancy-test declaring
my twenty-three year old son.
One pearl earring, grieving for her mate.
The detritus of fifty-five years in the swamp of life.

Anni Macht Gibson

a Psalm of David

Psalm 23

David declares, The Lord is my shepherd.

1 The Lord is my ashepherd; I shall not want.

2 He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.

3 He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.

4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

5 Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

______________________________________________________________________________

God’s grace covers us all~
Regardless of who we are and what we bring...He loves us.
In sickness, rebellion, fear, and abandonment…He loves us.
With all the stories we bring from our past…He loves us.
In our times of great joy and terrible despair…He loves us. 

Do you ever question God’s love for you?

He absolutely loves you.

Words and Photo from by:
Junelle Jacobsen
blog~ http://www.yes-and-amen.com/

In August I did a Newsletter Issue featuring Junelle and her awesome inspiration over at
http://songsfromthevalley.com/August%2012%205.13%20Inspiration.pdf

 

for love and snuggles

He’s just a little soft fuzzy bear
(thank you, Robin OK)
I’m way too old to love him so much
yet, I do
to the stars
and back again
and he knows
He’s very aware of feelings,
he always cries when I do,
and likes to snuggle –
it’s one of his favorites.
He hogs the covers,
and likes attention –
especially when I read
or write poems –
When I write about him
he smiles
and I rub his ears.
He never tells me no
when I need to hold him close
cause that’s what we both do best

AL/ Nov. 23, 12

into our silence

Sitting here at the end of words

Moving into spaces wide and deep

On the sharpest edge of  knowing

Silence saying so much more

Than I could ever say

 

Teaching me as I learn to speak

In language of the rocks and trees

Listening to the swirling sunlight

All along the way

 

We are travelers on this journey

Made of dust

Filled with stars

Dancing in the moonlight

Floating on the clouds

 

Connected to each other

Filled with care

Made to share

We only have this moment

To give. to live out loud

 

Raindrops kissing our tearstained faces

 while our dancing steps are tracing

Dewdrops diamonds winking

It’s our time to shine

Laughter sparkling like fine wine

We are here

we’re meant to be

A charming dimple in eternity

Joyfully circling for infinity

 

AL 10/7/12

 

On Not Writing Poetry

Didn’t write a poem today.

October 23rd,
heavy with autumn’s first cold,
numbing despite British tea.
Words played movie-like
across my screen,
pictures just out of focus
in that maddening way:
the smell of marble swirling,
the feel of air, not quite ripe.

I didn’t write a poem today.

Did I?

by Anni Macht Gibson
Unfinished and other poems

Post Navigation