Staying still, saying nothing,
Even when I’m dying to.
But Think. Think: Consequences
Before she even attempts
To articulate your thoughts.
Ink
poems
When stories come and find you…
Hello friends,
I always like to end my yoga classes with a story or a poem. Often the poem or story comes to me in one way or another and it wants to be shared. It finds its way in front of my eyes, perhaps because I need to read it myself, or perhaps someone else will gain from hearing it, after the relaxation at the end of the class. I have folders and books full of poems and stories that I have been collecting over the years. Stories that are just waiting for the right time to be shared at the end of a class…
Earth, Wind and Fire tales…
Sally is a gardener
She runs an organic farm
and sells her vegetables
on various farmer’s markets.
yes she does look like a slug.
the colours of my soul
The colours of my soul
spread on the paper
dripping through that brush
expanding at the contact
of water in wet paper.
the brush slides
my soul colours spread
themselves, mixing with
one another.
it’s a dance, it’s a rythm
it’s a song.
