Follow by Email

Friday, April 8, 2011

GEMS OF YOGA BRINGS YOU YOGA POEMS

Sun Salute
Stand firm on the axis
of your two arches.
Head down,
breathe deep of the damp earth
where roots have spread under old leaves.
Raise your arms slowly,
face turning like a daffodil
still wet from night's dew
until sun's beams
warm your coat of many colors,
and eyes open, astonished
at the golden glow
pulsing to arms
which lift weightless,
drawn by heart's gravity
to salute the sun.

Mountain Pose, Tadasana
Standing, I sing
my song of flowers, new green leaves,
crimson fruits.
Rooted in earth,
I spread my gift of shade,
while breezes play
in my leaves,
and my many fruits
ease the weary traveler.
From the cold wind,
my branches offer shelter
Standing, I fly,
knowing my birds will home
to nests they build
twig upon twig,
lined with thistle down
and my soft, fragrant petals.
Standing, I am here-
root, blossom, seed.
I spring and fall
in my many seasons.

Arrow, Utkatasana
My hands hold the wind,
tender,
as green shoots pierce the snow
in early spring.
I arrow
towards the sky,
my bow taut with desire
to see my colors spill
in crimson, orange,
ripest, reddest pink.
Feet wet with dew,
I stand,
yet warm
with hope and dreams.

Savasana
Between in and out
is a place I want to go.
So I listen and breathe,
feel the air ripple and shimmer
till I pause,
and a space opens,
and I open too,
like a flower,
knowing where it roots,
how its branches spread,
why its petals smell like lavender.
Then I flow past,
rippling again,
with only scent of lavender
to hold me true.

Om
Waves flow through me
bringing flowers into bloom
in sunlight and gentle rain,
warming the damp earth,
filling the pockets of darkness
until they turn inside out
and seeds fall,
germinate, send shoots to the stars
which burst in showers of gold,
set the night sky aglow,
then drift into butterflies
waltzing with petals,
billowing in summer breezes,
rest in ferns by the wandering stream,
murmuring among stones
ancient sounds
that have always been,
always will be.

Silver Streams
Listening,
I sing in silver streams,
my voice
familiar
yet strange.
I hear words sing with power
beyond my ordinary speech,
mine,
yet more intense,
as colors saturate
and tones
chord sounds
more sure, more certain
than any on my instrument,
and breath expands beyond
the jar of day to day.
I call it friend,
or self,
as I stand strong upon the earth,
toes spread wide,
heels, feather-tucked,
light and ready to fly.
Balanced between earth and sky,
we salute each other
knowingly.

Four Positions
Snake Pose
1. The arch is as strong
as it needs to be
to hold together stones
that must fit,
slide smoothly to join
or push against each other
grinding,
even screaming,
as they pull into position,
wedged where they must go,
taut and still.
Above the arch
the stars surround me
in a midnight sea,
which in an instant
inverts, like an empty pocket,
and suddenly
an immense sky pulls back,
shutters my pulsing light
till it focuses again
in the vast darkness,
a pinpoint of light
throbbing
still.

2. Child's Pose
Cramped,
bent around an old idea,
soft with habit
familiar comfort,
till feet tingle
to remind you
to lift your cheek from the pillow,
open your eyes to the light,
untwist your bones
for a newer journey,
bend your horizon
to curve above and beyond.
3. Crockodile Twist
Choosing sides--
right of left?
Legs move into position,
one ahead of the other,
as the top leg leans over
Is the right one free and above,
the left one caught below?
Or should it be
the other way around?
The arms don't care,
resting lightly,
bent at elbows and tucked in,
but the legs fold
according to some
motionless stride
only they can see.
One captive of the other,
chosen,
by the way of
facing forward.
4. Warrior Pose
Stretch,
pull yourself taut
like a bow-
so muscles, ligaments, bones align,
according to some purpose.
Or is it better to lump
your flesh round, soft,
fold it into your sorrow
like bread dough.
No, stretch you must
if only to feel alive down at the
cell level,
and leave your cell door
at least partly
ajar.