Friday, December 4, 2009

Paschimotinasana--Seated Forward Bend

I am rowing my boat
along the quiet river,
ribs open like a magnolia,
its stiff white petals
only this morning furled
in the burnished bud.
Legs strung tight as sails,
I hoist myself up, out of the hip,
arranging my torso, vessel
of precious cargo, over the knees.
Currents lap at my sides
as I surge forward, pulling
the oars of my feet
till the miles fall away.

7 comments:

Robin said...

I love the peacefulness and the pacing of this one! I can almost feel my self being rocked gently in this poem with your lovely images and of course the quiet, steady pacing of the piece.nes

liz said...

wow. beautiful. can it be the more hectic your life the more ethereal your poetry?

Robbi said...

Thanks guys. RE: the hectic pace of my life, it's never been true before. I can't usually write at all when my life is crazy.

Lou said...

With your parents, you are so near always to the essentials that these poems seem to offer a bowl into which to place those feelings. Beautiful, Robbi.

Robbi said...

That may be so, Lou. Thank you.

marlyat2 said...

Nice one, Robbi--

Robbi said...

Thanks Marly.