December 2018
John W. Steele
johnwsteele@yahoo.com
johnwsteele@yahoo.com
I am a semi-retired psychologist, yoga teacher and late blooming poet who loves hiking in the mountains near my home in Boulder, Colorado. I graduated this summer with an MFA in Creative Writing / Poetry from Western Colorado University where I studied with Julie Kane, Ernie Hilbert, and David Rothman. My poems have appeared in The Lyric, Blue Unicorn and Amethyst Review.
Heron
Kneeling with your buttocks on the ground
between your ankles, unfold one leg,
hold the foot in your two hands, lean back,
and lift the leg straight up, breathe deep, work
your arms to draw your spine in straight, lift
your chest and pull your chin into your knee.
The hamstrings burn, there’s not much room to breathe.
Ten breaths in heron pose feels like an aeon.
The heron stands like this stock-still. Who knows
how long? This samurai is so absorbed
in looking, sensing for what lurks below,
that when he inches forward no one sees him.
But when he draws his sword, watch out--
you’re sliding down his throat before you know it.
Lion
Legs crossed with feet on thighs,
place your palms down on the ground,
raise your hips, stand on your knees,
drive your pelvis forward toward the floor.
Arms stretched taut, jaw open wide,
thrust your tongue out toward your chin,
lock your gaze between your eyebrows.
Listen for the lion’s roar.
With one shake of your mane, cast off all
illusions, wander into sandalwood forests,
follow deer trails deep into the mountains
and lose yourself among the lonely peaks.
Few so bold to climb so high,
tread your path, look through your eyes.
Shoulder Balance
Shoulders on the ground, chin tucked to chest,
lift your spine and legs up through your toes,
let your gaze fall softly on your heart,
surrender to the swell and ebb of breath.
Ride each wave until your thoughts dissolve,
then let your legs descend, your body roll,
bone by bone, back down to earth, re-fleshed.
Yogis call shoulder balance mother pose,
a healing balm to ease life’s stress.
When you turn your body upside down,
blood drains through your chest into your head.
The neck bent forward soothes the nerves,
cures fatigue, slows the breath,
postpones your spiral down to death.
Shoulders on the ground, chin tucked to chest,
lift your spine and legs up through your toes,
let your gaze fall softly on your heart,
surrender to the swell and ebb of breath.
Ride each wave until your thoughts dissolve,
then let your legs descend, your body roll,
bone by bone, back down to earth, re-fleshed.
Yogis call shoulder balance mother pose,
a healing balm to ease life’s stress.
When you turn your body upside down,
blood drains through your chest into your head.
The neck bent forward soothes the nerves,
cures fatigue, slows the breath,
postpones your spiral down to death.
© 2018 John W. Steele
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