BINDUMANDALAYOGA.BLOGSPOT.COM

bindumandalapoetry.blogspot.com

Poetry from Bindumandala: April 2014

http://bindumandalapoetry.blogspot.com/2014_04_01_archive.html

Thursday, April 24, 2014. Sometimes immodesty is actually a good thing. It lays everything bare. As it is meant to be. No thin membrane of delusion. No keeping things out. To make pretentious claims to preservation. Sometimes immodesty is a good thing. Because it lets you cut through the. Get to the other side. And it becomes a virtue. Why call it immodesty then. You may ask,. Why not call it enlightenment. Maybe something even more telling. Like being or truth? Into parched cakes of meaning. And incessa...

bindumandalapoetry.blogspot.com

Poetry from Bindumandala: visceral motion

http://bindumandalapoetry.blogspot.com/2014/04/visceral-motion.html

Friday, April 18, 2014. It is a visceral feeling. The sand beneath my feet. I am sitting in the living room. Feeling the beach between my toes. The music comes blaring through the speakers. And the drums sound not unlike waves. Then reclining onto their mysterious centre. Back in the sea. My mind conjures up images of boats. Even the painting on the wall. Making me bob across. On the waves of my imagination. To hitherto unexplored places. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). Merciful return to life.

bindumandalapoetry.blogspot.com

Poetry from Bindumandala: July 2013

http://bindumandalapoetry.blogspot.com/2013_07_01_archive.html

Wednesday, July 17, 2013. A cold, cold day. A bitterly bitter wind. On the face of a cat. Yet I'm chill to the bone. And my lips won't move. About what you gather. And I am eager. To see it reflected back. Links to this post. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). A cold, cold dayA bitterly bitter windThe inquirin. View my complete profile. Watermark template. Powered by Blogger.

bindumandalapoetry.blogspot.com

Poetry from Bindumandala: October 2011

http://bindumandalapoetry.blogspot.com/2011_10_01_archive.html

Sunday, October 30, 2011. Gliding, flying, stumbling. I said I was buried and resurrected. Because when you drink to the fire. You expose the bitter truths hiding deep. And when you hear your own heart. Beat out the truth. Then you begin to stride. You carry your singing crying sighing laughing. Voice inside your head. And beseech it to descend into. Realm of humming happiness. From where you rise. Do you know what resurrected means? It means coming back with the. Power of the feminine. Links to this post.

bindumandalapoetry.blogspot.com

Poetry from Bindumandala: February 2011

http://bindumandalapoetry.blogspot.com/2011_02_01_archive.html

Thursday, February 24, 2011. Every sip of that tea. With a saucer in one hand. Absently taking the cup. Bringing it to my parched lips. From the bitter-sweet memories. How the bitterness alone stayed. You walked through the door. And with a brush of. And an air of happy abandon. You made the saucer drop. That sound i will never forget. It clangs in my head. And reminds me of when i looked. Longingly into my tea. Searching for signs of a prophecy. When you walked right in through the door. And as they sink.

bindumandalapoetry.blogspot.com

Poetry from Bindumandala: On the edge

http://bindumandalapoetry.blogspot.com/2013/05/on-edge.html

Saturday, May 25, 2013. Into the steep drop. Which if I have to find. I have to dive. I cannot and I must. How shall I do this. Have you done it. Once, twice, never? Have you stood on the edge. To the edge of the precipice. Thats ESP nandu. i just - today! Completed the biggest journey of my life, and felt like i jumped off that cliff - unable to say anything that i am feeling right now. but i jumped and it felt/feels pretty darned good. Kux. May 26, 2013 at 12:41 PM. May 26, 2013 at 12:45 PM.

bindumandalapoetry.blogspot.com

Poetry from Bindumandala: May 2013

http://bindumandalapoetry.blogspot.com/2013_05_01_archive.html

Saturday, May 25, 2013. Into the steep drop. Which if I have to find. I have to dive. I cannot and I must. How shall I do this. Have you done it. Once, twice, never? Have you stood on the edge. To the edge of the precipice. Links to this post. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). View my complete profile. Watermark template. Powered by Blogger.

bindumandalapoetry.blogspot.com

Poetry from Bindumandala: December 2011

http://bindumandalapoetry.blogspot.com/2011_12_01_archive.html

Monday, December 5, 2011. The rain was kissing the earth. Smell of fresh love. As we watched and waited. For the story to unfold. To see how earth. Would open herself up. We heard the sound. Of one hand clapping. And the story unfolded. And we were in the middle. Links to this post. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). View my complete profile. Watermark template. Powered by Blogger.

bindumandalapoetry.blogspot.com

Poetry from Bindumandala: December 2012

http://bindumandalapoetry.blogspot.com/2012_12_01_archive.html

Monday, December 3, 2012. Only pigeons quenching their thirst. Beaks a dip in the water. The sound of those fluttering wings. Reminds me of a time when. I quenched my thirst. Drinking from the font of Love. I am thirsty again. And need to be reminded. That liberty and freedom. They are born of the peace. The Water of Life. Links to this post. So much has transpired. And come back to life. This is a dance drama. And i love it too much. To not be a part of it. Stands on one foot. And lets his locks.

bindumandalapoetry.blogspot.com

Poetry from Bindumandala: September 2010

http://bindumandalapoetry.blogspot.com/2010_09_01_archive.html

Saturday, September 25, 2010. So much of what we call memory. Is nothing but a string. Passing endlessly through a cage. Like hamsters on a treadmill. We think back and look forward. And say o how wonderful. Perhaps tomorrow will bring. While i gaze beyond that hill. Drawing pictures in my mind's eye. Projecting them onto the vast blue sky. How is it that we always escape. Sitting in the one place. That is located in forever. It is called a moment. And incase you are wondering which one i mean. Where we ...