wild yang to my yin
seeded from these mother bones
mirror to the world
reflecting blue notes and pain
he walks the path less traveled
we begged him to stay-
within that small shell it blazed
teaching from first breath
even then he walked the line
between innocent and wise
gypsy feet stand still
while the world spins and dances
to a mad rhythm
I no longer need to run
when the wind urges me forth
© B.Y. Penman 2007
Underwood
- Details
- Category: Poetry
- Published: Tuesday, 17 August 2021 07:25
- Written by B.Y. Penman
- Hits: 2689
I found my voice
on an old
turquoise blue
Underwood
lost it for a while
drowned out
by the din
of life
swallowed my words
and they ate me
from the inside
out
can you hear me
now?
© B.Y. Penman 2020