Long Yoga Poems
Long Yoga Poems. Below are the most popular long Yoga by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Yoga poems by poem length and keyword.
When I arise in the morning, after “Thank you, God!” I often ask,
Am I fully loaded for this day to meet and complete my many tasks?
Have I spent the necessary time in thoughtful contemplation,
And calmed my overactive mind with deep yoga meditation?
Am I free from negative, nagging dark moods and fitful emotions?
Can I rise to the challenge of this day with faith, praise and devotion?
How I start my day sets the tone and pace of my achievements.
Gratitude, praise, and love are the highest spiritual vibrations.
When I fill my spirit with these before the morning work begins,
I know I am fully loaded and positive waves of faith pave my way
With all the help, encouragement and support I need for the day.
Chula Fleming © August 17, 2024
In a life that is full of chaos I seek Zen,
to Buddhism and Taoism for insight to this life;
I do yoga in the morning and then,
meditate especially in times of strife.
Hoping to pass from my prison into the light,
from ignorance and negativity and fright;
it is a daily maze and fight.
To enlightenment is is an endless path,
and so hard when life is full of wrath;
but what helps is a scented candle and a bath.
I like to chant a song,
rather than a sound, perhaps this is wrong;
but the peace I get is very strong.
Sometimes I hold a pretty flower,
for what is minutes but somehow feels like an hour;
meditation has a lot of power.
Contemplation in meditation is not a prayer with an amen
sometimes, what is revealed is like a knife;
but it does bring me mindfulness for my pen,
yes, Zen is good in times of confusion and of rife.
_________________________________
November 11, 2018
Poetry/Rhyme/My Zen Mindfulness
Copyright Protected, ID 18-1084-430-01
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Zen
sponsor, Line Gauthier
Second Place
Just messing around
Playing with life
Changing it up,
Tired of the strife
The treadmill grind,
Watery sameness of
Everyday; slogging through blind
But trynna be chill
Get back my flow
How to be zen?
Don’t even know
In my new sneaks
I run down the street
Get side-eye looks
On to a yoga swing
But don’t have any hooks
Living with ‘loved ones’
Who don’t know me well
Who question my motives
Scoff at my plunge
into sand gardens,
Meditation,
deep breathing,
What gives?
No more mere existing
I’m living this life
Developing, dynamic
I’m in this moment
Instead of resisting
Come take my hand
Feel what I feel
A deep breath in
Exhale, relax
A yoga teacher unable to disentangle her legs
Trazepe artists suspended in mid air flight
Contortionist arrested for public indecency
The snake charmer caught in a muddy sand pit
Poets drowning in an ink pot tied to their nib
Existential crises melting an iceberg of essence
Impressionist colouring in outside of the box
A funeral director counting nails of the coffin
Harlequin denuded down to the naked core
Artificial intelligence steering a robot gone mad
Jesus with Schrodinger’s whiskers on the rise
Unperturbed soldiers searching new graves
01st January 2020
A funny thing happened on the way to the fitness center
six months after my New Year's resolution to get thinner
It seemed a good idea then to start a program of exercise
Now I'm thinking this is thinking I need to psychoanalyze
The Take-It-Off notice says my time will soon expire
I assume they are aware I don't plan to perspire
Nevertheless I put together my best workout outfit
I'm on my way but I have to say I'm just not feeling it
My, oh my, there's a Starbuck's a few blocks away
A shot of caffeine should help start this exhausting day
I'll just go in... Could that be? Yes, it is! My good friend
I haven't seen her since I don't even remember when
Yes, thank you! I will join you... with a donut and a latte
Oh no, you're not keeping me... I can workout any ol' day
An hour later I'm driving home sipping on an ice mocha
I start thinking that tomorrow I really should try yoga
June 28, 2018
A Funny Thing Happened on the Way Contest by Robert Haigh
Sixth Place
I entered paradise through the elaborate crevices in my mind
Meditation was the door to the place I had never visited before
I entered a forest and was overwhelmed by the jungle canopies.
The infinite sky was blurred by the overhanging leaves
There is beauty in your psyche
Silence blanketed any semblance of my emptiness
hyper vigilant to the wilderness
my ballet soled shoes touched upon the leafy cushioned path
I found myself kneeling with my finger tips cupped at a glistening pond
Experienced the one and only moment of inner peace
I looked over to my right, and saw a tiger drinking beside me in the moonlight
His wide eyes bore into mine as his sand paper tongue dipped into the surface like a quill to
ink
the droplets of liquid silver dripped from his cheeks
It was a moment of compassion, serenity, and harmony
Guardian of tranquility
I acknowledge the gift of insight my brain has concocted today
Shift on my yoga mat, prepare to get lost once again by the power of my thoughts
Inhale, and exhale..
Inhale and exhale
Until my breathing becomes a vehicle
Or rather a spaceship To that fantasy
I am the only adventurer
That has ever ventured to this place
My mission to find my spirit guide
Is my only purpose as my instructor states
Entering the dark entrance to a cave
I called upon my inner conscience asking it what it wants from me
I struggled to concoct the form of it’s shape
It twisted and contorted
From a rabbit to a snake
All the meanwhile the smokey spirals fought to embody imagery of my soul
To a dog, and an eagle
Finally it collapsed into a vaporous heap
And rose from the smoldering grave as a neon techni-colored fireless Phoenix mythical bird
It told me to love myself always
And I would be happy here on earth.
In the odyssey of my soul, I have sailed seas of uncharted destiny,
Embarked on the ship of time, under the flag of a stormy youth.
Six years under the starry sky, I forged myself among the wave crests,
Learning the language of the winds, the silent dialogue between star and compass.
I wove dreams in the workshops of the day, in a symphony of masterful gestures,
From painting dawns on the canvases of walls to building fortresses from old wood.
I planted gardens in the heart of the earth, carved beauty under the burning sun,
And purified the day's scents in the silver coat of kitchens, where time weaves its flavors.
On the paths of yoga, I was the flame of calm, master of ancestral balance,
Guiding steps on health trails, coach of spirits in search of harmony.
A wandering teacher through the halls of knowledge, I was a helmsman in the ocean of science,
Mentor for those weaving their path in the tapestry of education.
In the sanctuaries of museums, I became the weaver of silence,
The storyteller embracing centuries, opening the gates to the chambers of the past.
In hidden taverns, I was the evening's alchemist, pouring the elixir of stories into crystal,
Living among spirits and shadows, I found oases of peace in the everyday desert.
In the realms of factories, I lost and found myself in the dance of fire and iron,
In every corner, a story, in every spark, a promise.
I carved desires on small objects, in a miniature universe,
And discovered the hidden joy in the small gestures of existence.
I was the light in the night of those seeking meaning,
Guardian of silence in the temples of learning,
Weaver of lessons of history and society, for hearts open to knowledge.
My last journey, a master of balance, guardian of a kingdom of green and stone.
Writer of dreams, I gathered the echoes of each experience,
Weaving from the threads of reality a tapestry of fairy tales, transforming the mundane into magical.
Each job, a chapter in the epic of my life,
A pilgrimage through the labyrinth of memory, in search of the light lost among shadows.
She was tired of Steve-Oh
Been together too long
Like a worn out recording
Of an old country song
While he laid there sleeping
Thought who next she would bed
She saw a guy at Loves
His eyes looked kind of dead
If you like brain dead Latinas
Living at the park in the rain
If you're not into mental yoga
If you have only half a brain
If you like screamers at midnight
If you look like a bearded ape
Then your the one I'm looking for
Hop in my car and escape
So she picked him up at Loves
Living in his clothes, looked kinda sad
He knew she had no standards
Out of the weather, he was really glad
I will be your old lady
People will be kind of mean
But if I’m your old lady
Smoking meth will be a routine
Yes, I like brain dead Latinas
Living at the park in the rain
I'm into Taco Bell at midnight
Texas Steel Reserve is my champagne
I like screamers at midnight
I look like a short bearded ape
I’m the one you are looking for
I’ll hop in your car and escape
Meet you tomorrow at noon
Through the crime scene tape
At a bar called the Lee’s
And we'll plan our escape
Waited there with high hopes
And he walked in the place
She knew him in an instant
Saw the bugs on his face
He looked real shady
He said I think I remember you
She laughed for a moment
And she saw he barely knew
If you like brain dead Latinas
Living at the park in the rain
Like watching tornados
Texas Steel Reserve is your champagne
If you like screaming at midnight
If you look like a bearded ape
You’re the dwarf I’ve looked for
Come to my trailer and escape
If you like brain dead Latinas
Living at the park in the rain
If you're not into mental yoga
If you have only half a brain
I like screaming at midnight
I like short bearded apes
I’m into Taco Bell at Midnight
After a six pack we’ll escape
They’ll get married tomorrow
Cut through the crime scene tape
At a bar called Lee’s
After a six pack they will escape
sitting on the bench in the middle of a field
eating properly made cornbread with blue bonnet on it
watching her do yoga and still not understanding
thanking God for putting me exactly where i am meant to be
our 15 year old welsh corgi named ireland asleep on the bench beside me
happy to not be doing nothing and just as thankful to be blessed with love
noticing you watching us with a smile and carelessly losing the focus of your center
coming to join us as if you were being left out of the fray
putting my arm around you letting your warmth and apple cinnamon cent long for a slice of apple pie
you kissing me softly on the lips asking me if i wanted her to make an apple pie
me and ireland coming to attention immediately after the asking of her ironic question
us both looking at ireland laughing as she puts her head back down to pout, knowing she will not being getting any
we both then beging singing the late o.c. smith's 'little green apples'
then, for some reason, we plan a trip to indianapolis for our summer vacation
we feel raindrops giving light, friendly warnings to our fingers
we wake ireland up and quickly head back to the house
Her hands stretched out, all the way down,
Past her hips, thighs, knees and feet,
And she planted her palms flat on the floor,
Onto the cold concrete,
Then her feet slowly flew, up into the air,
Where they sat as high as they could,
And balanced atop her delicate frame,
Her upturned figure now quietly stood,
Then her feet clenched tightly, onto the pole,
To the staff they both became bound,
And then, in one motion, with no effort at all,
She lifted her hands off the ground,
And she swung and twirled and waved her assets,
Like a kitten, her body just swayed,
Performing yoga each day, in front of a crowd,
Dressed in nothing, as her sensual trade.