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Graceful, flowing
Yielding, bending

Growth and movement never ending

Moments living
Joy surpassing

Rhythms, seasons, everlasting

Mind awaking
Harvest taking

Every day a memory making

Good creating
My truth stating

My wealth flows without abating
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My wife Kim and I were talking with our son Aaron the other night.  He said that over the last eight years, his Mom and I have become more like each other.  I asked whether she has become more like me, or I've become more like her.  He replied that I have become more like her.  This is good.

I've learned to flow more, and to bend more.  Prosperity Poem 88 - Never Ending - explores this idea of being more bending and yielding, rather than rigid and fixed.  Acting and thinking in a more dance-like way has brought me more happiness, increased wealth, and better relationships.
Amanda Kay Burke Apr 2020
It feels like particles are peeling apart
Separating as they please
There is undeniable space growing in my heart
Observable to who peeks and sees

Fate to blame I have no doubt
Touching tears that won't mend
Beneath skin circuits start to short-out
Barriers between emotions blur and blend

Real is rare so bare all imperfections
Fake the majority of what others share
Everywhere I go is overdissection
Judgement is blatantly unfair

Which only adds to distress
Taken without one sound
Cork up inconvenient emotions unless
They overflow
Then I'm drowned

You cannot imagine what it's like
Kills self-esteem to reflect
Each time negativity strikes
Is impossible to correct

Bottle after bottle emerges emptied
Sink in a sea of distraction
Forever smoky air will not recede
Chilly dreams prevent satisfaction

None of our dreams visible anymore
What are we doing wrong?
Many bad decisions
Too many to ignore
I guess failure's where we belong

We will never be proud living like this
We are in darkness's constant shadow
Sins overtake any chance we have at bliss
Dragging troubles in tow

Trust we will be able to grow
Takes years to heal wounds deep
Bridges over teardrops that flow
Seconds wasted we could not keep

To conclude
Retain a sliver of hope
Though happiness may be lost
I build and maintain ways to cope
Stay warm amidst the permanent frost
See a crystal blue stream
Flowing through green trees
And tumbling over mossy stones

See the bright sparkling gleam
And hear the light breeze
Blowing leaves in musical tones

In your mind
Become the stream
Yielding and bending
Rhythm with no ending

Relax and breathe
Let go and flow
You are always giving
Power to all living

This crystal blue stream
Remains a symbol for you
A stream of prosperity
To last your life through
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Taylor St Onge Nov 2018
I am not very good at saying no to people,
                              or at being firm and direct with my patients at work.  
           I am soft and mandible.  
           I tend to let people take advantage of me.  

My physical therapist says the people with the most problems
with their hips and backs are
                                                        the ones that can          
                                                        hardly bend at all or
                                                                                                 that can
                                       bend              too             much.

I am too flexible.  
                              So much so that it is hurting me.  
                                    I fold and I fold and I fold
                                               in on myself like origami and
                                      I let people do whatever they want.  
I can't remember if I've always been this way or not.  

Maybe it depends on how you look at it:  
The woman in the casket could either be sleeping or dead.  She could either be a stranger or my mother.  This could either be the bright, multi-color, kaleidoscopic shapes I see when I rub my eyes a bit too hard for a bit too long, or it could be the dull, grey morgue her body was wheeled down to after they tied the tag around her toe and zipped her into a white bag.  This could either hurt a lot or a little.  It depends on how much you let in.  How willing you are to bend to the emotional blow.  I could either stop writing about this or keep going, but it's been, what, nine years now, and I haven't been able to stop yet—
only able to bend and
                 ­                                      and
this took way too long to finish
Jesse stillwater May 2018
Some days the wind blows
and bends yonder willow
  Its roots hold sway
  perched high upon
  steep sea cliff walls
No gale could affix
a bow to such a limber
heartwood backbone
  Wind arched echoes
  undulate to and fro
  alike a gentle restoration;
  a resilience unrenowned

It looks as if it takes
the skies weight so lightly,
while the rising waves
gather an unhallowed chill
fomenting untamed
at the heart of the prevailing
       westerly swell

A human tends to lean rigidity
right up to the yonder most edge,
a thin line threshold
        a step away  ―
pushed by a moment's gravity;
a blind jump over a cliff
into an unfathomable deep ocean
       far beyond
       a forgiving
       willow's bend

Jesse Stillwater ... 09  May  2018
mslu Mar 2018
do you know nothing of obeying your roots

and not going wherever the wind blows


setting standards and restricting movements with the wind

to show just how bending

is more truthful

than breaking .
Erin Suurkoivu Sep 2016
Even the stars are doing yoga.
Nothing has always done it,
bending into space.
This evening found me stoking
the fire,
warming by breath alone.
People are such cold little stoves.

Above the sound,
**** and give of ocean,
I heard Ariel sing.
Each winter it happens again,
deepening its way into my bones.

Light, lengthening the days, even as
cold plummets to colder.

Gentle, promising colour of sun in
an angle that warms the wall.

Sneaking up from behind to give
heat to my back, you were paler,
even unavailable, until today.
©Elisa Maria Argiro
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