life: acoustic & amplified

poetry, quotes & thoughts about life

Archive for the category “Poetry”

Catch that poem 

 

 Poetry is a life-cherishing force. For poems are not words, after all, but fires for the cold, ropes let down to the lost, something as necessary as bread in the pockets of the hungry.

– Mary Oliver

 

 Running to Catch a Poem: Remembering the Poet in the Story 

Poems came to me

As if from far away.

I would feel them coming,

I would rush into the house,

Looking for paper and pencil.

It had to be quick,

For they passed through me

And were gone forever.

💫

– Ruth Stone, “Fragrance” (in her last collection “What Love Comes To”

💥

As a poet myself, I feel for Ruth Stone, because thanks to Elizabeth Gilbert, Stone’s mode of chasing poems like runaway horses is favorite, but few have read the poet herself or even remember her name. It’s well worth seeking out her work and noticing, along the way, how she rose above a dark river of grief and pain, especially after her second husband (also a poet) hanged himself from a door in the family home.
Oh yes. Then there are two delicious further revelations in Gilbert’s account of how she heard it from Stone. When a poem got away from her, she felt it galloping away, “searching for another poet”. Then sometimes she would manage to grab an escaping poem by the tail, and would feel herself pulling it back. “In these instances, the poem would appear on the page from the last word to the first – backward, but otherwise intact.” (Elizabeth Gilbert, “Big Magic”, 65.)
Many of us dreamers know exactly how that works, as we pull back dreams by the tail as they run away. How many of the dreams that escape go searching for another dreamer?

💫

Robert Moss

 

photo sources found @ http://www.pinterest.com 

🌟
http://www.mossdreams.com

http://maryoliver.beacon.org

 

 I string words like pearls
Knotting silence between each one

like silk thread

in a jewelers skillful hands

long strands or chokers

strategic placing of diamonds

where needed

sometime a sparkling featured

brilliant jeweled pendant 

always taking special care with the hardware

the finishing is the most important

must stand up to daily use

easy for right or left hands alike

then a final polish before bagging

when each piece is complete

💦

AL
 

When we walk on the earth with reverence, beauty will decide to trust us.   – John O’Donohue

  
love warriors walk through this world

love dripping from open hands

falling onto shattered pieces of the broken 

staining bits of the kaleidoscope of hearts

stepping carefully

slowing down

as the ones who have forgotten to know

appear to do battle

not knowing what they have forgotten…

we are all the light

we are each the beloved..

please let me hold you

touch those wounded places

rub love on the sore spots

until you remember

what you already know

stay here with me 

for a long long while

let’s walk together

connecting 

hands

hearts

love

as we go

allowing the drip to become 

a pour

a fountain 

a river

an ocean

as we sail our sea green ship

into this mystic world beyond the stars 

beyond the moon

and once again

find ourselves home in the sun

☀️

AL

  
  
photos found at http://www.pinterest.com

🌙

At the heart of things is a secret law of balance and when our approach is respectful, sensitive and worthy, gifts of healing, challenge and creativity open to us. A gracious approach is the key that unlocks the treasure of encounter. The way we are present to each other is frequently superficial. We become more interested in ‘connection’ rather than communion. In many areas of our lives the rich potential of friendship and love remains out of our reach because we push towards ‘connection.’ When we deaden our own depths, we cannot strike a resonance in those we meet or in the work we do. A reverence of approach awakens depth and enables us to be truly present where we are. When we approach with reverence great things decide to approach us. Our real life comes to the surface and its light awakens the concealed beauty of things. When we walk on the earth with reverence, beauty will decide to trust us. The rushed heart and the arrogant mind lack the gentleness and patience to enter that embrace. Beauty is mysterious, a slow presence who waits for the ready, expectant heart. 

💖

 John O’Donohue 

 Excerpt from BEAUTY

 

photo by Fisherman Dan @ Branford, CT 

doxology and dreams in the dark   

 

 When I looked for good, then evil came unto me: and when I waited for light, there came darkness. 
– Job 30:26 


Smack dab in the middle of the fight 

While I waited for right 

my day turned to night 
I thought I was fine 

the good I would find 

then early one morning I found I was blind
I lay on the ground 

this dark hell I found 

fluttering wings the only sound 
I drank this dark brew 

no way out but through 

this darkness just grew and grew
Overtaking me, Helpless I turned 

My hope was all burned 

I could not choose what I thought I had earned 
I lay in Your hand 

in Your arc I did land 

trusting the truth I had already found 
Watching life pass 

going ever so fast 

oh how long will this dark, dark night last? 
In spite of the fear 

I am still here 

I give thanks even through tears 
I trust in Your plan 

My life is just sand

I am a follower and not a just fan
and if I should die 

The truth does not lie 

The sun will still be here when I say goodbye

I trust in the way

I open and say

Come open the door today
So light come and hold me 

Love come, grow boldly 

Till every bush, and bud, flames holy 

🌙

AL 

    
 

   

can we buy what we want?

 

Thinking that money will somehow make one happy isn’t thinking at all. 
Hey, sorry, you know better. But you might not believe how many people think that just because they don’t have much of it now, its lack is at the root of their challenges, which is never the case. 
Nev-a, 

    The Universe

      http://www.tut.com

 

It is hard, these steps. This releasing of the emotional debris that encases our heart. The shedding of the false-identifications that obstruct our path. The farewells to that which doesn’t serve. The fundamentlal shift from survivalism to authenticity as a way of being. It is hard, these steps. Because you are not just clearing your individual debris- you are tapping into and releasing the debris carried by your entire ancestry. You are shedding the armor of millions before. You are saying goodbye to ways of being that have served and imprisoned countless generations. You are making the shift from an animalistic way of being to one that is genuinely human. Do not underestimate your significance, fellow seekers of the heart. We may be the first deep release travelers. We may be the first authenticity-questing collective. We may be the first soulpod to consider the possibility that there is a sacred purpose at the heart of every birth. Our load, heavy. Our courage, essential. Our significance, profound. Our need for one another, irrefutable. We rise in unison, or not at all. We rise in unison, one hard ass step after another…

    – Jeff Brown 

  
Do not fall out of flow or confidence simply because a task led to hardship or disappointment. On any worthwhile journey, there will be many dead-ends and storms. Endure. Have faith and resolve. Don’t torment your mind wishing the path were conflict-free. Anticipate difficulty and decide to meet all obstacles as if they were obvious, inevitable, stones meant to sharpen your will and character. Happiness isn’t at the end of the path; it is in knowing that you met life and its inevitable hardships and blessings with a mindful grace, strength, and gratitude. What is in front of you is not terrifying or random or impossible – it is your proving ground, your opportunity to learn to bring peace to the chaos, your podiums to show your family and loved ones real grit and love and perseverance. Your only defeat in life will come from a mindset you choose that bemoans difficulty versus anticipates and rises above it.

   – Brendon Burchard

 

 Beauty comes in many forms–and there is no form more beautiful than you. Just exactly as you are, this minute, right now, without changing a thing…you are beautiful. Beautiful enough to take God’s breath away.
   – Neale Donald Walsh

 

  

photos found at http://www.pinterest.com 

yes, please, beat again 

  
Grace
Nothing I have ever done or will ever do 

can separate me from 

or bring me into the heart of the Beloved.
Oh, I can distract myself from the longing 

that whispers day and night for that sacred union,

and some days I am too tired to notice 

that what I ache for is and always has been here:

. . . . right here in and at my fingertips,

in the way the breeze lifts my hair, 

the way the earth pulls me to her,

the way shared laughter makes my sides ache.
Nothing I have done or will ever do 

can make me worthy or unworthy

of being touched by the Lover’s hand and heart,

of being the Lover’s hand and heart in the world. 
Grace – the way Infinite Love 

gives Himself to us in every moment,

the way God unfurls Her tender mercy in our hearts-

is a constant invitation to say with the fullness of our being:

Yes.

Yes.

Yes. 

❤️

~Oriah Mountain Dreamer 

  
there is terrible beauty in every human heart 

tell me a story that will live with me forever

love always shares grace always wins

you can’t miss if you show up

pay attention…

the message is always revealed at the appointed intersection 

letting go brings the right miracle

at the right time the song playlist repeats 

crazy love flows into mystic waters slowly drips the sweetest tupelo honey

deep calling to deep

honor chooses to say yes to the best invitations

making the call brings me the messages I need to build the new bridge from the friend bench of this manna-filled moment

there is always more than enough to share

gratitude buckets fill and overflow

removing scales from blurry, tearful, kaleidoscope eyes 

as perfect peace falls into rightful place

color shards blooming into new masterpieces of never before seen glory

diamonds dance on the water

flaming beauty evolves, drives me to my knees,

shedding shoes, and fear, 

as we talk 

I lift my face to the sun and free soar 

full wing, open soul, with the gulls,

who always fly in trust, never a shadow of doubt, that they are loved to the sky 

right here, and in every tick of time,

in, and in between, every click of the second hand,

around the bend of eternity and back again
🌀

AL 1/30/16

in gratitude and honor for connecting with Liz on this beautiful morning of sun, warm and snow drifts

  
  

   

 photo above by Fisherman Dan @ Branford, CT

  



🌃

photos found at http://www.pinterest.com

good stuff

  
Beloved,

you make the water of my life into wine,

my ordinary into your holy.
You request miracles of me

the moment before I know I’m ready.
What was for purification of uncleanness

you make into celebration of beauty.
You change my despair to gratitude

in secret, my dark certainty to wonder. 
You make this life into a wedding feast,

my faithful marriage to the Holy One. 
Always you turn piety into a party. 

And always the best is yet to come. 
This wine is not for discussion. 

It’s to drink. It’s good. It’s really good. 
Let’s dance.

__________________ 

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

http://www.unfoldinglight.net

 

   


    photos found at http://www.pinterest.com

arriving. departing. 

   

 Above the mountains 
the geese turn into

the light again
painting their

black silhouettes

on an open sky.
Sometimes everything 

has to be

enscribed across

the heavens
so you can find 

the one line

already written 

inside you.
Sometimes it takes 

a great sky

to find that
first, bright

and indescribable

wedge of freedom

in your own heart.
Sometimes with

the bones of the black

sticks left when the fire 

has gone out
someone has written 

something new

in the ashes

of your life.
You are not leaving.

Even as the light 

fades quickly now,

you are arriving.

The Journey by David Whyte

 

   
 

photos found at http://www.pinterest.com

  

 

pick a peck of poems 

 

 Stop whatever it is you’re doing. 
Come down from the attic. 

Grab a bucket or a basket and head for light. 

That’s where the best poems grow, and in the dappled dark. 
Go slow. Watch out for thorns and bears. 
When you find a good bush, bow to it, or take off your shoes. 

Then pluck. This poem. That poem. Any poem. 

It should come off the stem easy, just a little tickle. 

No need to sniff first, judge the color, test the firmness. 
You’ll only know it’s ripe if you taste. 
So put a poem upon your lips. Chew its pulp. 

Let its juice spill over your tongue. 
Let your reading of it teach you 

what sort of creature you are 

and the nature of the ground you walk upon. 

Bring your whole life out loud to this one poem. 
Eating one poem can save you, if you’re hungry enough. 
When birds and deer beat you to your favorite patch, 

smile at their familiar appetite, and ramble on. 

Somewhere another crop waits for harvest. 
And if your eye should ever light upon a cluster of poems 

hanging on a single stem, cup your hand around them 

and pull, without greed or clinging. 

Some will slip off in your palm. 

None will go to waste. 

Take those you adore poem-picking when you can, 

even to the wild and hidden places. 

Reach into brambles for their sake, 

stain your skin some shade of red or blue, 

mash words against your teeth, for love. 
And always leave some poems within easy reach 

for the next picker, in kinship with the unknown. 

If you ever carry away more than you need, 

go on home to your kitchen, and make good jam. 

No need to rush, the poems will keep. 

Some will even taste better with age, 

a rich batch of preserves. 

Store up jars and jars of jam. Plenty for friends. 

Plenty for the long, howling winter. Plenty for strangers. 

Plenty for all the bread in this broken world. 

On How to Pick and Eat Poems by Phyllis Cole-Dai

   
    
 
    

photos found at http://www.pinterest.com 

 

open says me

  
📩

I’ve received all these things 

in envelopes

of various shapes,

colors even:

checks

cash

invitations

cards

art

poems

precious stones

rocks

music

glitter

bills

pills

seeds

buttons

forgiveness 

candy

letters

cards

keys

doodles

stickers

stamps

words

hate

love

broken love

addresses

certificates 

the list goes on…

I search for direction a poem about envelopes

and all these different envelopes, 

from years past, 

pass, 

kaleidoscope like,

filing quickly through my thoughts – 

then come the questions –

what about pushing the envelope? 

(where did that saying come from?)

what about return to sender?

what about that pony express? 

what about priority mail?

Then the simple thought descends –

Envelopes contain sealed mysteries 

easily revealed by tearing them open

as do we…

we never know what we’ll find

until we get inside. 

💌

AL

   
    
   
photos found at http://www.pinterest.com

✉️📬

addictions of poetry   

  

 

 Slowly coming to acknowledge out loud that poetry is everything to me. I cannot live without it the way that others need love or religion or purpose or cause. Nothing, except the softness of the body, ignites me more. Nothing fills, feeds or illuminates me like this. To find a new poet is like being returned to an old love. To discover a lover of poetry is like being returned to someone from my original tribe. Completely thrilled this morning to be lying in my bed silently reading Nariyyah Waheed. Thrilled. Here are a few sweet lines. https://www.goodreads.com/author/quotes/7145613.Nayyirah_Waheed
   – Jen Lemen

  
I read poetry 

And it’s so familiar 

I like this way of words.  

I slip into the passion, 

the broken hearts,

so like my own. 

The depth of loving, 

it is my own. 

The beauty,

these words caught inside 

someplace within myself, 

suddenly breaking free from this other angle. 

Broken love, 

twisting in the wind of unequal relationships. 

The parables, 

the simple narrative, 

the stark condensed truth, 

the healing, 

the beauty of nature, home, love, life, laughter…

Anything can become a poem. 

Words strung,

so like my own way, 

yet not,

new, 

fresh,

sometimes not quite understandable, yet. 

I am in love with poems. 

I learn from their awareness 

I may get tired of my own heart wringing words,

I may get bored with my own platitudes, 

but, everyday,

I find the words in poems of another

to inspire me,

to allow me to see,

to teach me,

to make me laugh,

to get me through my day. 

Everyday I realize how much poetry means to me

I am so blessed to be a small part of this magic. 

I love poems. 

I need poems. 

I am a poet. 

That settles in a good spot within me,

as I settle in, 

with the perfect shade of coffee, 

to read my morning dose. 

🤗

AL

 

  

 Photos found at http://www.pinterest.com

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