Yoga Poems

The Heart of Devotion

(“The Heart of It - #4”, 2007, original oil)

The Heart of Devotion

Opening the heart of devotion
Veils fall away
As so many colored leaves
In the Fall.

One by one they fall
Like tears, like snow, like rays of light
Nourishing the ground
Of my heart.

Where does this love come from
And where does it go? All I know 
Is that it flows

Roman Yoga

Practicing hard at his yoga,
Cato convolved with his toga.
The news he was caught
In this Gordian Knot
Spread to the land of Busoga.

THIRD EYE SPEAKING

THIRD EYE SPEAKING 

(Poet’s Note : I’ve uploaded first verse of this little poem on YouTube channel as a short, if you’d like to listen to a read, be welcome : @ghairodanielspresence)


I see past present future fluff
in a ball of bluff
a ghost down the road
dressed as Victorian toad
 speaks through 
an IPhone on cue 
about

Pleasingly Plump

Pleasingly Plump

Obese, bloated, overwrought with contrition
Lainey hung a chart of each yoga position
Couldn’t deal with stretching
Mice she’s still fetching
She defies my lectures on nutrition

The True Master

Putting you above me
Your feet at my head
Is the natural thing to do
When your mastery
Is revealed.

But it’s all relative
As you put others above you and
Others put themselves below me.
That’s why it’s called
The wheel of life.

When I step back
And my emotions settle
I see that no one is The Master
But that each can instead
Be the appropriate messenger.

(9/1/24)

Chair Yoga

I sit in a comfy chair
                             ...imagining me 
                  

The Great Wheel

The Great Wheel

I'm hot. I'm cold; afraid, now bold. 
I'm good. I'm bad; silly, now sad.
I'm wrong. I'm right, filled with clarity.
Now, no clue or true insight. 

How do I shake and awaken? 
Break the great seal of the wheel?
 Will I ever know calmness,
Peaceful joy, and be still? 

The great Law of Polarity rules

ENTANGLED

Deep in meditation, I waited. 
Breathing slow, soft and deep; I waited. 
Then exploded on the inner screen 
Such an image of the Divine Matrix 
It took my breath away. 

There sat I, alone, yoga posed and silent
And from my glowing body spanned
A multitude of galaxies, their cosmic webs and strands
Of multiplicitous energies, reaching away

Yoga

When I do a twist,
I don’t make a fist.
Instead I spread my palm.
And feel the calm.
I’m outside, but not sitting.
Bare feet are quite fitting.
To sense the earth.
A sense of peace I unearth.
Yoga can be done anywhere.
But in nature is where I least despair!

Taking yoga with a goat

Things we remember and some that we won't:
changing batteries on a remote,
building sand castles with a moat.,
applying a second coat,
grabbing an umbrella to tote, 
sharing an ice cream float,
limiting salt, so we don't bloat,
mailing the thank you notes you wrote,
buying lozengers for a sore throat,
wearing a life jacket when on a boat,
remembering where your supposed

Yoga Pants

I bought a pair of yoga pants 
Without the slightest urge
To practice yoga, but it wasn’t 
Too much of a splurge.

Reminds me of some other clothes
Designed for active wear.
My ski coat’s never seen the slopes
And I don’t really care.

I walk around in running shoes
And in my baseball cap,
I’ve never hit a long ball
Into any outfield

Yoga

Her hip was decidedly dickey
She was not as flexible as before
Various joints were complaining
She had trouble getting up from the floor

She was not as young as she was
Bits of her were definitely aging
Inside she didn't feel any different
But the outside was certainly fading

So it was time to get some help
It was time to stop mucking

A Peer Inside

. for public domain

I noticed a hollow in the banyan seed,
but I would not have seen a hollow was there
if not for the boundary,
the inner lining of the flesh.

And so I notice when I look inside me,
deep beyond the hum and the light, silence lays bare.
An emptiness hovers there,
where the light and the hollow mesh.

Every Death Has a Bright Future

every bright future is a wind whisper,
a caress of the ray,
every touch in the palm is a getaway for  flying words,
each word  bears a deceive on its back,
a life spent in thought, not to withdraw in etilic sevraj, from time to time
raises the glass to taste the words  with its mouth, cheers

In the Grass

My name is Yù míng               
Jade brightness is what it means
I’m a Praying Mantis and we look like string beans
I jump about the grass to chew up flowers, leaves 
and stems of plants between the trees
It’s only these I eat, on

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