deepundergroundpoetry.com

YOGANOYOGA

The grave is deep enough  
Time to stop digging  
Throw yourself in  
And walk away  
 
betrayed humiliated humility breathe  
 

I was glad to have died  
One dinner jacket moth eaten  
One pullover a sweater  
Second hand genes  
A jumble sale of selves  
Used  
No longer fit  
 
One gale will steal these blooms
 
And tears of gratitude  
A smile of comprehension  
There are no dramas  
No guilt or innocence  
In yoga there is only doing  
And when you fall  
You repeat the posture and hold  
 
A swan span from the lake
 
A right foot on my thigh  
Feels like your hand touching me  
The whistle in my nose  
Like the wind through the window  
And that throat swallow  
A swan song heralding a cold winter's end
Written by whale
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 7 reading list entries 1
comments 10 reads 664
Commenting Preference: 
The author encourages honest critique.

Latest Forum Discussions
COMPETITIONS
Today 4:56am by NANCY_RDZ_STORIES
SPEAKEASY
Today 4:15am by Grace
SPEAKEASY
Today 3:33am by DCLXVI_1989
COMPETITIONS
Today 00:41am by Louismatteo349
SPEAKEASY
Yesterday 11:19pm by Ahavati
POETRY
Yesterday 11:05pm by Grace