Yoga, James Bond & The Bad Guys (revised)

 

Sitting on the floor

Watching James bond overpower foes.

A complicated character with

A subtle ethic, ice-chilled wrath –

Most of all, a yogic path

Of duty and detachment;

Yogic while the villain,

Mega-bombs his own routinely –

Ligaments and muscles blown,

Royal houses overthrown!

And yet we have so much in common.

 

Villain cool, detached but mean,

Followers his kill machine.

Bond the Lancelot,

Jaw-dropping stunts his lot,

Fencing, boxing, crashing cars;

Fights and scars his calling cards –

And when in need of surgery

He heals quickly.

 

Evil lurks, Bond never shirks, and still

His life is filled with perks:

Hotel suites, girls en suite,

Dry martinis, Aston Martins (note the plural)

Sure of all

And unequivocal

Bond’s megastar, ideal and idol.

 

This poet rather fond of Bond,

Both yogis of a different kind:

He the running, driving soldier,

I, the yogi on the floor,

Each connected to a power.

Grinding skills the Bond-dynamic,

Mine the tranquil skill-iambic.

 

I give in to un-excitement’s

Ordinary daily yoga;

Bond the knight with right to kill

(Nice guy James with license, aimed at

Ordinary evil ogres –

There you see the box of riddles:

Bond the paradox in middle

Fighting off the oh, so evil bad guys!

 

 

Yoga, James Bond & The Bad Guys 2.10.2015/revised 8.28.2016

Circling Round Yoga II; A Sense Of The Ridiculous II;

Arlene Corwin

 

Trying Out Ideas In Form

 

Accepting some, rejecting others

You think thoughts (of course, what else?)

With mind that thinks in rhyme,

That sings internally in pulse or meter,

With the trying out idea

In one shape, length or other form,

A form poetic, form its norm.

 

It cannot help it, choosing not to,

Its intrinsic motto “Write!” into

The dead of night, the morning’s bait,

Some inward freight shipped in by nature,

Makes it make ideas clear – and that alone on matt blank paper.

Talking dissipates in air

While written piece is always there,

If only to be found in some museum cellar

Two damp hundred dry years later,

Made mature

By simile and metaphor-become-reality,

Affecting mankind’s then and future

Through the slow, low burn of poetry.

 

Trying Out Ideas In Form 8.15.2016

The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

 

Playing With Your Self


One’s mantra ought to be,

‘No people, things; no things, no people’;

Energy that’s wasted swishing

Thoughts around illusionary realms

That kindle wish and drive desires

Rooted in the mind, and of the kind

That should be cast into a fire –

Wish/desire that sways, that leads astray.

 

You ask, “What’s left when one’s bereft

Of thoughts of things and world?”
Two words:

Your self, its traits.

All other thoughts flung out to space,

Mind’s tissue

Focused on the one essential issue: you,

You! To face the real deal you

To play with self’s true

nature.

So remember,

Slow eradication of the need to talk,

Think worldly thought

Is to awaken from the slumber

Of illusion’s juggernaut.

 

Playing With Your Self 8.19.2016

Circling Round Reality; Circling Round Yoga II; to The Child Mystic II;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

 

Higher/Lower

Even the eyebrows lower;

It shows in the darned mirror:

Life changes constantly,

A going downward mostly –

At least physically,

For I, the inner I invisible

Am rising high,

Am rising high.

And so to hell with vanity

And negativity.

Life’s outer is a liar,

For I, I rise still higher.

 

Lower/Higher 8.20.2016

Circling Round Vanities II; Circling Round Aging; Circling Round Wrinkles;

Arlene Corwin

Basic Kindness To Bugs Imprisoned On Window Pane

Planting glass on window pane,

Sliding it to tiring bug –

A creepy-crawly stuck inside.

You slide it forward

Delicately inching toward

The anthropod.

Lifting glass you slip a card

To gather fly or bee or bug

Safe under glass,

Protected from a dire passing.

Lifting whole so carefully

So as to not crush head or wing

While bearing thing

To door and freedom.

It, a test, trial, task – a problem

Of the kind that gets you points in heaven

And, of which you feel well pleased

When finally you do succeed.

 

Basic Kindness To Bugs Imprisoned 8.11.2016

Circling Round Nature II;

Arlene Corwin

 

To Remember At All Times

 

You wake up vague, objectives dormant.

Focused on the now-ment,

In the habit of the moment,

Higher power to relate to,

Husband, friend or wife beside you,

You seek thought, goal, frame to fit in –
Any measure to begin a day serene

With something like a slogan:

“Everything that happens, happens for my best”

Whether lesson or reward: a grace,

A gift with not a price in sight –

Always in the air

In lives particular and singular,

You aim the morning self that was,

And turn it into self that is,

Its comforts and rewards.

 

To Remember At All Times 7.25.2016

Circling Round Reality; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

What Happens After Death? (of things that interest me)

 

Bathing daily as I do,

Listening to the radio,

Emergencies, catastrophes,

Boats sinking or aflame or both:

What happens after death’s end breath?

 

‘The poisoned lung… the old, the young…

The fire set on purpose,

One hundred fifty-nine lives lost’

Through living skin I take it in:

Corrupted ethics, trials. Why?

August weather’s all but frosty.

I, with plethora of food in fridge,

Them there rigid,

Stench of rot.

I, desk full of paper, notes;

Money to buy more.

Stuff stuffed into each shelf and drawer;

The closet door can hardly close for all those clothes,

And I, asking ‘bout death and after.

Am I daft to wonder, wander into guesswork’s trap?

Or have I found a craft to cope,

Yoga’s science and art of hope?

For something must exist – a consciousness

Not here, but in a sphere somewhere.

It isn’t logical

That something can become a nil –

Something that has had a pulse.

What else makes sense?

This senseless chaos I sense is not chaos

But some inner justice

Somewhere, somehow in the universes

of creation!

In a sudden quickening of thinking

In the probabilities of speculation

Here I sit in bath’s ablution, asking questions

About what happens after death?

 

What Happens After Death? 8.9.2016

Birth, Death & In Between II; Circling Round Baths II;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

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