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Journey Pages, The Hugger Mugger Yoga Blog

category "Yoga Poetry"

We’re fortunate to have Kansas’s poet laureate on board as a regular blogger. These are her poems, either directly related to yoga practice, or related to yoga’s bigger purpose.

Yoga Poetry – Everything That Rises

posted by Caryn Mirriam-Goldberg on December 12, 2014 |

eucalyptusYoga Poetry – Everything That Rises Rise up without fear to the coffee and daylight skimming the dark.   Rise through the remnants of the dream where you are lost, all pay phones broken.   Rise toward the piano you haven’t played for months, and place your hands on the keys of your memory.   Play badly but loud, and let the ringing rise through your arms.   Rise into

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Yoga Poetry – Almost Gone

posted by Caryn Mirriam-Goldberg on November 17, 2014 |

albionYoga Poetry Almost Gone The sun calls one last word in its rusting voice, then leans to the west, sweetening its tune by forgetting the melody. The taste of light lingers in the sudden cooling of breath, the slim branch of a twisted tree over the horizon where one crow waits for the shadows the moon will throw over the brome field two turns of the wheel back in time.

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Yoga Poetry – Body of Time

posted by Caryn Mirriam-Goldberg on October 9, 2014 |

emotionYoga Poetry – Body of Time What did you expect?, the knee asks. Just the way of the world, says the elbow. The wrinkles of the knuckles laugh harder, and the little toes on both feet turn out as if escape was possible. This body of time takes another breath, sends another valentine, ignores another blast of hatred even as it learns new tricks: ways to hang upside down in

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Yoga Poetry – What the Sky is Made Of

posted by Caryn Mirriam-Goldberg on September 3, 2014 |

iridescent cloudsYoga Poetry – What the Sky Is Made Of The sky is made of soft rain and hard light, the old yearning to be held, the ancient fear of not having enough, and the fountain of wind that says, Something’s gone, something else is arriving.   The sky is made of rocks shattered finer than the smallest atoms of human memory, air we call breath once we take it in

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Yoga Poetry – Then It’s Over

posted by Caryn Mirriam-Goldberg on July 28, 2014 |

yoga poetryYoga Poetry Then It’s Over The blue breaks through the setting clouds, an old fire, while the field lays down its colors for the night. Sky tumbles over itself day to night, tension to calm. What we think happened, and what no one but the wind saw– all lost to the first falling star. Nothing hurts for a moment. Those you love shine whether still here or long gone. A

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Yoga Poetry – The Bridge

posted by Caryn Mirriam-Goldberg on June 26, 2014 |

yoga poetryYoga Poetry – The Bridge The bridge is made of weather. The bridge is made of time. Translucent, the color of water, it spans the world in sharp relief to lushness of green, western edge of blue, rain shadow in between.   Five miles north, the cedars drink up the storm while the sky inhales old starlight, already dead when it lands, for rock and root, bowed thunderhead and nightfall,

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Yoga Poetry – You Rise Up to Meet the Falling World

posted by Caryn Mirriam-Goldberg on May 29, 2014 |

yoga poetryYoga Poetry You Rise Up to Meet the Falling World Whatever you lift to the sky, the sky covers: middle-of-the-night exaggerations dissolve to slivers of sadness on your pillow, middle-of-life jolts compress the heavens into one streak of sleet, thawing into softer ground. Like the rain cycle that obscures the view, you can lose your way on old ground or forget the innate blue light in everything, ready again. The

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Finding the Moon

posted by Caryn Mirriam-Goldberg on April 28, 2014 |

moonFinding the Moon Did you stop now that you found the moon almost full, floating west across a small clearing between the clouds? Did you still yourself in the lawn chair on the deck, and give up waiting for one desire to name itself, or another to dissipate?   Where have you been, the beautiful world asks. Wind furrows your hair. The moon folds under a cloud the size of

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Yoga Poetry

posted by Caryn Mirriam-Goldberg on March 25, 2014 |

yoga poetryYoga Poetry You Rise Up To Meet the Falling World Whatever you lift to the sky, the sky covers: middle-of-the-night exaggerations dissolve to slivers of sadness on your pillow, middle-of-life jolts that seem to compress the heavens into one streak of sleet thaw into softer ground. Like the rain cycle that hides the light and obscures the view, you can lose your way on old ground or forget the innate

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Possession

posted by Caryn Mirriam-Goldberg on March 5, 2014 |

possessionPossession   Have the sun right there in the west on its own time, ready to fall away exactly when it should.   Have the cello late at night between your legs, your right arm aching as you try to press one note into another.   Have the waltz in your mind.  Have the orange in the large grey bowl, your fingers holding its scent of new light and promise.

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