"yogis" poems
This things are made for idling
transparent in their quotidian splendor:
A Buddha statue at the receptionist desk
golden skin, red robes
welcoming all yogis with its gaze
eyelids closed
The candle, a guardian of an aim
an intention that moves within a flame
over the palms of the wooden hands
Incense smoke dance softly around the entrance
like a dream seen from wakefulness
immersive enhancer of the humor
filling the place with soft calmness
Nag champa smell
and serious air
The bamboo doors
from Monday to Sunday
open the way to Indian sounds
and the voices of blooming teachers
guide the way
until shavasana
when practitioners become gently moving statues
and glowing air goes
breathing in and breathing out
daily efforts and daily hopes.
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 12:17 PM UTC
nimbus clouds
evoke
apparitions
of evolved
yogis sitting
lotus
deep in
states
of solitary
mindfulness
rules of
law
tales of
prophets
no longer
apply
yesterdays
pristine portraits
crumpled into
dust
compose today's
Mandala
memories
of fables
accruing
critical mass
become
nimbus clouds
Oakland
3/6/11
jbm
Mar 13, 2011
Mar 13, 2011 at 9:56 AM UTC
There's water above and water below
as it was in the beginning
while I recharge, prismatic eyes still
in their microcosmic universe
Silent, while songbirds give thanks
and playful energy teases, seeking
release
so I focus on amber surface reflections
from under, they fizz tiny bubbles
an effervescent Spirit-level
Yogis know it as bliss
risen crown kundalini
Their vessel sadly lacks
living water from Yeshua
our rising Messiah, eternal wellspring
I open my eyes
find other eyes
Deep calls unto deep
as sounds of waterfalls
A daily feast of at-onement
Sep 27, 2009
Sep 27, 2009 at 11:47 AM UTC
India women dip white
linen cloths into vats of
the most beautiful colors,
Yogis meditate.
Dodoitsu 7,7,7,5 Japanese style of poetry. Circa 1600s. Often concerning love or work, and usually comical. In my case I was trying to show an analogy between dipping into meditation and the dipping of cloth in a vat of dye. But I also found it humorous that the men meditated, while the women worked.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 11:58 PM UTC
President of the Republic of Germany's Presidential
Security Council President 150 (1973) (5) President.
This operation and her long legs in the stomach
of horses. This is very clear, especially
in Latin America, Europe, Russia and Spain,
and in Canada, the prostitutes and dogs
are essential for Mexico. 1, What are you doing?
According to Adam Clark, women in the São Samar
and all the Yogis are women, women
and children in Africa, Asia and South America,
Germany and England, Gilbert and George.
In the United States, Russia is good. Americans
want to live in Canada, and Great Britain.
About two thirds of Catholics in San Francisco,
China, Russia, South Korea, and the USA.
Then I'll enter the dogs. Type of songs not written 1.
Latin American products in Latin America.
Spain, Wales, bull by Alice. From the foundation
of the world, he was born in the largest area
of the world to study and study John's leaders.
I said. Out of control. There is no competition.
France, on the second day. In addition
to the prostitutes and the elderly Muslims,
in the windows they are given comfort
in adultery. Many companies in Jamaica
can express their feelings to Guinea.
These are green geese. His mother Mattie.
So Georgia. (5) It is important to add
the 1292 standard modes in the message,
and a TV show is found. Asian countries
in the Americas and Africa, African and Latin
American prostitutes, from Germany, Yugoslavia,
Denmark, prostitutes and more prostitutes.
Vegetables. In a comedy, Oustiin's family
are prostitutes and prostitutes; Within 150 hours
in the city, United Nations Security Council
(5), 1973 (1973), Executive Director (5).
The information is contained in the robot
robot center. Open the next part of the tree.
I also said in Pittsburgh: "You are not listening
to me,
as a ********** 1, a maid and a horse." This list
is incomplete. In the United States, Europe,
Russia, Spain, Canada and European slums,
old and advanced technologies. The items returned
to the Swiss Express Pond were from the port.
Of course, like a dog and others.
Prison or Russian court? There are many
benefits to Giza the Robot and Sarah
Barrow in the Middle Valley 2 to 2, 2.
In the Middle East, there are many benefits
for the team and many others. The fish
in the grass. There are waters in Latin
America, West Africa, Asia, the Congo,
England, Germany, and Assisi, which
are collected on the moon along
with different cultures of different breeds.
Nov 27, 2018
Nov 27, 2018 at 9:13 PM UTC
Our front porch is covered in chairs
waiting for visitors
We offer you hot tea or cold
Yoga at ten
and prayer flags if you need.
Far Away there are Yogis standing in
Mountain Pose...
Where is my peace guru?
My path is riddled without a person
holding my hand or
offering me an invitation
to pray the way I want to pray.
I can only imagine the room
hot and charged with mantras
and faith where followers
devote their hours to adherence.
There lives are busy
moments of honesty,
contentment,
fervent compassion,
sweat, and balance.
Here we sit drinking,
waiting in our chairs,
while our posture
is a hope rather than
a deed.
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 10:49 AM UTC
Stupendous scenic beauty, celestial bliss of Kailash
Clouds floating over, as if embedded in the sky
White swans briskly moving higher and higher
Mansarovar, echoing chants in the air 'shivoham'
Resounding loudly, Crystal clear stream flowing
Yogis, sadhus, travelers engrossed in the lovely topography
Nov 3, 2023
Nov 3, 2023 at 11:25 AM UTC
There is a sacred path
that winds through
my heart
It sings God's Name
as I dance ecstatically
along enchanted gopi banks
and over
whirling, warbling brooks
I marvel as a black and
white checkered,
red tufted woodpecker
carves God's Name on
a thankful tree trunk
Mirabai, Kabir and Rumi
wave their colorful prayer flags
verses of pure love
and devotion cling to the
very air we breathe
The Bhakti path forges
unafraid through
the bleak, brooding
forest of desires
Husky winds blow around
ghostly, skeleton branches
that claw helplessly
at the night skies
whispering valiant stories of
Rama's exile and
Krishna's triumph
Another tree it's hoary arms
outstretched
resembling a cross
bleeds, remembering the sacrifices
and love of Jesus, The Lamb of God
Trekking further into the dense
unforgiving jungle
seated in Lotus pose
a Golden Buddha
immersed in
rapturous meditation
opens His eyes for an instant
The sun rises in the east
I kneel and kiss His
glorious feet
Leaving the tangled woods
behind
suffering, godforsaken
figures of homeless people
sleeping alongside
this good samaritan road
emerge
Embodiments of God
spirits marred by defeat
and agony
stare listlessly, flies circling
oblivious to the
blistering desert heat
I stop to share a prayer,
cup of water, some fresh
baked bread from my knapsack
and a ray of hope
The path abruptly ascends
purple mountain mists
crown the summit
holy footprints of saints,
yogis, fellow pilgrims
indelibly christen
and guide my steps
Angels sweep the road
ahead tossing rose petals
and victory blossoms
Om peals
across the enlightened
Bhakti path
...and an ancient God awakens....
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 2:07 PM UTC
Yoga, James Bond & The Bad Guys
Sitting on the floor
Watching James bond overpower foes.
A complicated character with
A subtle ethic, ice-chilled wrath –
Most of all, a yogic path
Of duty and detachment;
Yogic while the villain,
Mega-bombs his own routinely -
Ligaments and muscles blown,
Royal houses overthrown!
And yet we have so much in common.
Villain cool, detached but mean,
Followers his **** machine.
Bond the Lancelot,
Jaw-dropping stunts his lot,
Fencing, boxing, crashing cars;
Fights and scars his calling cards –
And when in need of surgery
He heals quickly.
Evil lurks, Bond never shirks, and still
His life is filled with perks:
Hotel suites, girls en suite,
Dry martinis, Aston Martins (note the plural)
Sure of all
And unequivocal
Bond’s megastar, ideal and idol.
This poet rather fond of Bond,
Both yogis of a different kind:
He the running, driving soldier,
I, the yogi on the floor,
Each connected to a power.
Grinding skills the Bond-dynamic,
Mine the tranquil skill-iambic.
I give in to un-excitement’s
Ordinary daily yoga;
Bond the knight with right to ****
(Nice guy James with license, aimed at
Ordinary evil ogres -
There you see the box of riddles:
Bond the paradox in middle
Fighting off the oh, so evil bad guys!
Yoga, James Bond & The Bad Guys 2.10.2015/revised 8.28.2016
Circling Round Yoga II; A Sense Of The Ridiculous II;
Arlene Corwin
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 7:26 PM UTC
Walking tops of mountains seems simple
when all rests in relativity
The realization that
SPACE
is only the relationship between
FORM.
no shadows without sun.
stars shine the same sting.
Ink without paper.
.and therein lies the answer.
Your heart is beating.
Your heart is not beating.
On top of the mountain the yogis slur is trance Sanskrit.
Like oceans they reside
sunken in temples
the waves of their drone pulsating.
the incense is strong
and still it is floating away.
Their words for today and tomorrow are the same.
Hands touching hands now,
do you feel that?
Something MORE!
overlapping
folding over and then
BLOSSOM
color and light leap from shadows!
Your heart is beating.
Now the pulling apart.
Silence.
Cold.
Illusion.
An enigma froze in a shocking static.
Your heart is not beating.
Brahma!
Vishnu!
Shiva!
There is only one.
Dec 6, 2011
Dec 6, 2011 at 4:28 AM UTC
1) groovy dancing hippie shepherd of love
2) intrepid communist/anarchist revolutionary
3) wandering shaman/healer
4) african anointed of black liberation
5) messianic community-organizer
6) spokesmouth for free-market capitalism
7) stalwart working-class carpenter
8) cynic hellenistic philosopher
9) ascended master who studied with himalayan yogis
10) witty rabbi who sold out to rome
11) ****** rastaman babbling about ethiopia
12) refined orthodox prince on background of gold
Jan 9, 2019
Jan 9, 2019 at 11:02 AM UTC
in Benares
the bells ring
in a way bells
can't contain
themselves while
reverberating.
flowers heaped
beyond color but
never more bright.
as pyres forgive
the host with flames,
and yogis bathe in ash
along the Ganga.
Sep 24, 2019
Sep 24, 2019 at 2:03 PM UTC
the energy surged,
shot--
poured,
weighed down,
lifted
stone unto
mountain.
where i had a vision
of yogis grounding,
and transmitting Shiva.
death ****** in
my head with
gurgling force.
just then my eyes
slowly saw the
light of morning,
this.
Jun 18, 2019
Jun 18, 2019 at 12:40 PM UTC
I wanna live
With the asana girl
We could be happy
Drinking our ghee
With my asana girl
She speaks in their slogans
I nod and say yes
We roll on our mats and
Breathe through our noses
My asana girl
Twelve yogis humming
A sitar for show
The raja relaxes
And waits between chants
For his asana girl
I don’t need no money
I’m happy as hell somehow
Karma’s a ***** y’know
You see it’s all a big show
Om... om... om
Copyright © 2019 by Zane Safrit. All rights reserved.
Mar 19, 2019
Mar 19, 2019 at 2:33 PM UTC
I am calmed by the soft petals of the lotus
flower, the same petals of the same lotus flower that
rests upon the shoulder of my yoga teacher, whom I
see every Monday and Wednesday afternoon.
I am calmed by starting out in child’s pose, hips back,
arms out front, stretching shoulders wide.
I am calmed by the cool water that runs like a river down my
parched throat during our first break in the practice.
I am calmed by the soft sounds of the music that plays in
the background and the tiny thuds from the basketballs
hitting the backboard, in the court on the other side of the wall.
I am calmed by the turquoise blue of my yoga mat and the
matching towel beside it, which I never get sweaty enough to use.
I am calmed by all the warriors teaching us strength, endurance, and balance.
Warrior one: arms up to the sky, Warrior two: arms out to the side,
Warrior three: one leg held up high, and Warrior four: arms are spread out wide.
I am calmed by all of the cats and cows and tabletops and chairs
that we become, and all of the forward folds.
I am calmed by savasana, or corpse pose, at which we arrive in the end.
we lay on our backs, legs out wide, arms flat, facing up, and eyes close.
there we stay for what seems like an eternity.
Then, when we’re ready, we roll over onto our side-body, into a fetal position.
Then, we slowly rise up into a seated position with our eyes still closed
and our hands folded softly at heart’s center.
Finally, we stretch our arms out as if it was the first grand stretch of the
morning, and it’s usually followed with yawning yogis.
I am calmed by shavasana, the death and rebirth between classes.
I am calmed by the blank space my mind becomes when I close my eyes and just exist without a worry in the world.
I am calmed when we bow and say, “Namaste.”
Feb 25, 2021
Feb 25, 2021 at 1:46 AM UTC
I stopped trying
To make sense of life
A long time ago
One time
Followed by
The next time
Oh so strange
Do you know?
And in this body
I feel akward
My existence is absurd
It was nice to see
A friend
At the gym
We talked about
Our families
And how they have been
I don't feel that comfortable
In my own skin
Watched a video
About Tibetan Yogis
They are at peace
They let things be
And the therapist
Provided no answers
But it was fun
To visit with her
Pet the kitty cat
And listen to it pur
Now the previous
Four lines
Are not connected
In any logical way
And I am not connected
As I die another day
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 9:34 PM UTC