Best Enlightened Poems
As Christmas draws near I contemplate my faith.
Jesus spent many years away, yet no one knows
For sure why, or where, or how, but destiny's lure.
When he happened upon meeting the teachers
Who would guide his steps with the knowledge
Needed in guiding ours, he was anointed with
Sacred oils and the perfect time for his return
To teach the yearning masses was revealed.
He taught in parables to be better understood
So that even the youngest children could grasp
The lesson, and so his words would be spread
By many as he knew his earth time was short.
Even the least of non-believers lives by these
Teachings, though they may never realize it.
Simple truths, compassion for others, kindness
To animals, love’s consideration for humanity,
Helping the helpless in reaching out to strangers.
These have been manifested inside our DNA
To help the broken souls who need help most.
Faith instills courage, yields strength, and endows
Peace that helps to conquer the greatest of fears.
It is among one of the most blessed gifts taught,
Along with forgiveness, to be honored and revered.
As this winter season has been chosen to honor
His blessed birth, I also deign to honor his teachers.
If you visualize their light in others of all races, creeds,
And faiths, you are on the true path of enlightenment.
"Blessed birth and destined death are both divine."
Jesus Contest
Sponsor Anthony Slausen
HM
7-5-2016
Any Poem (Not Entered In A Contest
Sponsor Broken Wings
First Place
Not who you think I am
6/22/26
By Dustin Branum
I’m not crazy, I’m lost....
I’m not depressed, I’m suppressed....
I’m not lying, I’m selective....
I’m not paranoid, I’m aware....
I’m not high, I’m enlightened....
I’m not weak-minded, I’m indulging....
I’m not hateful, I’m disgusted....
I’m not resentful, I’m resilient....
I’m not angry, I’m expressive....
I’m not wrong, I’m open for the debate....
I’m not picky, I’m exploring my options..
I’m not mad, I’m disappointed....
I’m not rebellious, I’m standing up for what’s right....
I’m not selfish, I’m protecting mine....
I’m not denying, I’m refusing to condone....
I’m not enraged, I’m enslaved....
I’m not unstable, I’m unstoppable....
I’m not delusional, I’m conclusional....
I’m not stupid, I’m far from it....
I’m not deaf, I choose not to listen....
I’m not resisting, I’m refusing to bow down..
I’m not dangerous... to all....
I’m not a con, I’m a prophet....
I’m not dismissive, I’m filtering....
I’m not evil, I’m confused and tired....
I’m not woke, I’m awake....
I’m not okay....
I’m not you, I’m not me no more either....
I’m not accepted, I’m rejected....
I’m not jealous, I’m in envy....
I'm not a psycho, I'm a Scorpio....
I’m not for sale, nor doomed for hell....
I'm not the warden of this jail cell....
I bridged the chasm and entered ambiguous halls
Climbed over barbed fences inside my mind's walls
To glimpse the core of how men and women relate
Among flowering vines behind the garden gate.
Within a flower is both gamete and stigma
As semen to ovary - what an enigma!
Nestled deep in my breast, I hear a sultry voice,
"Which would I be if I'd been given the choice?"
I am content with my life in a single ilk
I give in to the urge to wear lace and silk
A little more mascara and blush on my face
I desire to be a lady with charm and grace
I wear jeans and boots, shorten the length of my hair
But some days high heels are what I choose to wear
Two halves of one heart, beating in rhythmic sync
Twins in one body but both sharing the same link
One set of footprints I leave on a virgin shore
I know who I am, but sometimes yearn for more
I'm searching for what lies behind the waterfall
The answer discovered when I hear my siren call
One foot in each of two very different worlds
Climbing trees like boys with painted nails of a girl
When asked my favorite color, I always say it's blue
But I'm also partial to pinks in pastel shades and hue.
I search my thoughts to see if gendering is mental
Knowing I'm more the damsel, not frail but gentle
When my psyche roars like a lion, I can repress
the savage beast in me when I wear a pretty dress
In kindred thoughts my anima/animas keep in touch
I respect my masculine inflection, but not too much
I don't saunter like a guy. I'm not one of them
My hips sway like a girl, so cherchez la femme.*
*Cherchez la femme is a French phrase which literally means "look for the woman."
"The higher awakening is call God Consciousness.
In this condition you will see that all objects of
this world are your own universal self."
Quote by _Quotefancy
I have been lost in spiral thoughts,
returning to the same dark place;
and never connecting the dots,
awake, dream, sleep negative space.
Spiralling in empty stagnation,
until I let go and transcend;
rising to higher creation,
in my self universe I blend.
My new world is God's pulsation,
it is like my own self planet;
a place of pure love foundation,
enlightenment my enchantment.
Clouds pass in an azure blue sky,
I am empty of the long past;
positive, healed, aware I fly,
and my higher self space is vast.
_____________________
May 24, 2022
Poetry/Quatrain/Incarnation Into An Enlightened Universe
Copyright Protected, ID 05-1458-352-24
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Premier contest, Unity Consciousness
sponsor, Seeking Unseeker, Judged 06/01/2022
Third Place
Once, a wise man, not enlightened and not an I-Don’t-Care-Man, came through the woods, thinking of the meaning of life. Suddenly, a Very-Scary-Black-Forest-Merde* appeared on the path.
- I'll eat you, wise man! – It said.
And the wise man, not enlightened and not an I-Don’t-Care-Man, burst out crying and ran off.
A lesson: Don't come into the woods, if you’re scared of merde.
Once, a wise man, enlightened but not an I-Don’t-Care-Man, came through the woods, thinking of the meaning of life. Suddenly, a Very-Scary-Black-Forest-Merde appeared on the path.
- I'll eat you, wise man! – It said.
- No, I'll eat you! – the wise man, enlightened but not an I-Don’t-Care-Man, said and ate it.
A lesson: The good defeated the evil but the evil tastes kind of weird.
Once, a wise man, not enlightened but an I-Don’t-Care-Man, came through the woods, thinking of the meaning of life. Suddenly, a Very-Scary-Black-Forest-Merde appeared on the path.
- I'll eat you, wise man! – It said.
- I don’t care, - the wise man, not enlightened but an I-Don’t-Care-Man, said and kicked the Very-Scary-Black-Forest-Merde out of the path.
A lesson: The good defeated the evil again but where does that stink come from?
Once, a wise man, enlightened and an I-Don’t-Care-Man, came through the woods, thinking of the meaning of life. Suddenly, a Very-Scary-Black-Forest-Merde appeared on the path.
- I'll eat you, wise man! – It said.
The wise man, enlightened and an I-Don’t-Care-Man, continued on his way in silence.
And the Very-Scary-Black-Forest-Merde burst out crying, ran off the woods and ever-never came back because merde loves talking to wise men.
A lesson: Thinking of the meaning of life, don’t condescend to talk to merde.
* Herein, the French word “merde” is used for censorship reasons.
Translation from Russian of a well-known parable by an anonymous author, which concerns the principles of on-line discussion. Hoping, soupers like it)
Said this a million mountains away from you that I am the ambiguous aunt you never knew.
Quiet allows me to see..
all around me, everything..
gluttony, kindness, hypocrisy..
all at once, knowing.
In silence one is with Spirit.
In silence one can learn.
Why then all the world noise?
Can't you see your bridges burn?
They babble and babble and babble on
while i quietly observe.
They hustle, plot, help or scam..
I see clearly what they serve.
Disgusted with some, Delighted with others.
Everything around is Not as it first appears.
© Erin L. Adams 2013
Eyes of the empty
peering through a window
as rain falls upon it
the dust of yesterday washed away
by the anguish of today
truth long descending into fiction
becoming everything and nothing
to become one with the world locked inside a prison
with predetermined paths set before you
by others who are only relics of the past
a past so broken, a nightmare life long
only certain dreams can be reached
how can my dreams be yours or hers be his?
material only limits the powerful potential of the mind
desire only weakens your own identity
Identity is preserved through indifference
thee ability to accept the world the way it is
and not to play a part in its manipulation
over analyzed dysfunction
in a world of chaos
preoccupied forging empires
pyramids built with the blood of slaves
the temples of long destroyed faiths
idols of gods left to idol
songs now left unsung
beginnings that have long ended
the stones of the earth
manipulated to please the minds great influence
cultures of the ancients on display in an archive
to remind, remember, but never change
a wise word to whisper
falling upon the deaf ears of the headstrong
a sacred burial ground
buried underneath a parking lot
remembering lives long forgotten
forgotten lies long lived into a truth
Evil and good are a duality of a mirror image
and are so often the same
Colours swirling ambiguously bound,
Exploring the many that I have found.
Enlightened souls with thoughts of wonder,
Creating new worlds in which to ponder.
Absolute are the commands you’re given,
Being told is easier than telling yourself,
Capture your given freedoms,
Demand more than simple life,
Endings are only and end if you reach them,
Forgetting certainly helps,
Gather yourself and come back later,
Have a little more strength if you do,
In the stead of your previous strife,
Just be more than you were before,
Kismet is only just one way,
Love doesn’t have to be a dream,
Miracles aren’t entirely impossible,
Nothing has to stop you,
Only you can stop you,
People will likely try harder than you do,
Quit allowing them to control anything,
Rebirth your true self and be free,
Sunsets and dawns to come will matter even more,
True happiness and enlightenment will you find,
Under the guise of what you once feared to be,
Very much like you were told not to,
Welcoming this new life is,
Xenial your heart can now be,
You can do anything,
Zeal and zest for the life you now lead.
Written 7/23/15.
It was a gift of history astounding
in its surge upon my afternoon of rest;
in subtlety they came, a basket unannounced,
filled with clusters of presumptive nanoseconds
gathered there before me, raw and wild,
and clearly mine to be.
It was too much, although I knew
that they claimed no solidity and rivaled
none of all the trinkets that I had.
No lenses were of any use to sort them
yet I found myself in awe to know
that each had clusters of its own.
That side effect--proof of infinity!
I dare opine
that such a moment is not mine alone,
and thus invite my readers here
to set aside the trite, the tedium,
the hopeless resolution to despair,
for there within the opening you create
is endless light.
~
Alone, where winds had smoothed the cobblestone,
a young novice sat, solemn and austere,
brooding over mistakes made, seeds past sown.
Entering the abbey; a fate severe,
she wept with sadness when dismay had grown.
Praying, she cried, "In Your Word I abide."
Her soul ached; tears were silently falling.
"Strengthen my faith, Father. Be at my side.
Forgive my despair. This is my calling.
I know from You there's nothing I can hide."
Stark loneliness grew; hope quickly dwindled.
In solitude her days would reach their end.
Then came enlightenment. Faith rekindled
in whispers to her as angels descend.
She dropped skeins of yarn, carefully spindled.
Down on penitent knees she bent and bowed.
"Forgive my apathy. I've been a fool
to hesitate, Father, for I have vowed
my humble life to serve beneath Your rule."
With an overjoyed heart, she spoke aloud.
Happenstance
eyecatching
and astute
a
unity of indistinct
diversity
Observed
phenomena..
the emperic
illumed
true
but inexact
the blue sky
enlightens mood greatly
brings better days
moods that invade me
let me write
for better or worse
writing poetry provides
quantification
realistic worth of myself
worth not of a writer
just a person
with a rhyme or not
Written for
Sponsor Charles Henderson
Contest Name String Haiku
we are all budhas, we are all oshos
inherently, we are born with it
but our souls of mirror
get tainted by the pollution
the structure the system the education
and every thing is unclear now
we have to undust the mirrors
we have to clean up the dust of insecurity
then you will see who you really are
you will be a budha
then
you can count the hairs on your eye brows
your eyes will turn microscopic
you will realise that
you are an osho too
that is enlightenment
that might happen under a tree
or below an electric fan
it doesnt matter
by chanting under a tree for life time
by renouncing every thing
might not accomplish that
realise and fullfill only
by living in this moment
by the moment for the moment
artfully
neither worry about the future
nor regret about the past
you will reach home
the enlightenment
i, promis