Best Past Life Poems
A child of four suffers recurring dreams,
disturbing parents and siblings with screams.
When she awoke, always sore in one knee;
next to a birthmark, it throbbed painfully.
Night after night she feared going to bed.
What caused these nightmares that raged in her head?
Even when grown, the torment persisted,
so a therapist’s aid she enlisted.
“Hypnosis,” said he, “might offer some clues.
Why not try it? You’ve just bad dreams to lose.”
Once under, he guided her to a room --
here people’s lifetimes in books were entombed.
“Find one that is yours,” her counselor said.
Quickly she did, but before it was read,
she felt an ache, saw just a faint title.
The words, she thought, said “Alister Bridle.”
The hypnotic trance now suddenly broke;
puzzling questions “Mr. Bridle” evoked.
For many years she thought that was her name;
perhaps a past life had been filled with pain.
Who was this man? She simply had to know!
Seasons passed, summer suns made way for snow.
In Florida now, 1998,
she thought all the nightmares she had escaped.
But strange dreams always catch us by surprise --
when the lights grow dim, our minds fantasize.
Cloaked in velvet, she left her parents’ farm,
stealing away on a late autumn morn’.
To meet her love, she climbed on the carriage,
knowing her folks would forbid their marriage.
Warm-hued leaves carpeted the hillside road,
and her pulse beat fast; she’d soon join her beau.
She thought only of him; joy cast its smile,
but that’s when he called, “Alice, the bridle!”
The leather band broke and wrapped ‘round her knee.
To the ground she was pulled; her horse ran free.
She met death, but past-life dreams recycle,
and she’d never been “Alister Bridle.”
I just keep seeing them, the hooves pounding those old rain-soaked cobblestones, somewhere in the back of my mind. I feel the creeping fog against someone else’s skin, not mine.
An old iron lamp post and that old lamplighter, impressions are burned into my third eye. I knew him in another lifetime. I’ve traversed so much time, so many centuries in brief seconds.
All of my senses succumb to the lamp’s flame as it burns the oil and the scent of that old pipe that he smokes, this lamplighter.
Who is the woman in lace whose body, in which I am? From whose eyes do I look out over this emerald landscape from bluestone walls? She does not know the lamplighter in that other place. She lived four centuries before him, yet she is inside my head...my body.
Past lives reside in the soul’s backpack. We carry them through numerous incarnations and occasionally a memory escapes to speak, when we need it the most.
2-20-2023
Deja vu Poetry Contest
Unseeking Seeker
In past life I hailed from Shitterton
and loved good food and plenty of action
Once a witch visited town
Who taught her art to me clown
With my magic wand I had more fun
A lass named Bustyview took my fancy
Gave me no airs, vane was her beauty
Decided to trick her in
Prince became I to her grin
Lived thereafter happily with she
Form: Limerick, 2 stanzas of 5 lines each
(syl. count:9,10,7,7,9,10,9,7,7,9), Rhyme: AABBA
I can recall another lifetime, one where I could fly
Gazing down upon the earth, moonlight glinting in my eye
A king among the stars with a piercing call that could terrify
I was once a mighty falcon, a raptor of the sky
Soaring majestically brought exhilarating thrills
Cruising deep valleys and magnificent hills
Preparation for the hunt was how I honed my skills
The sweat and toil all worthwhile when the blood finally spills
I patiently stalked my prize below; death was now en route
My mind made up instantly, my focus absolute
Diving at breakneck speed was my key attribute
Blazing through the clouds, the Reaper’s in hot pursuit
The thrill of the hunt, an innate yearning since ancient Babylon
My prey chirped sweet melodies until he was sprung upon
I clasped him tightly within my powerful talon
His life force swiftly dispatched as his soul journeyed to Avalon
Moments after my car crash, I was overcome with visions so clear
Echoes of a life I lived before I ended up here
Memories flooded back, and down my cheek rolled a welcome tear
For this alternate existence, I once held so dear
A past life as a falcon engulfed my human brain
Vast skies were my territory, my conquered domain
I embraced the rasping wind and a deluge of torrential rain
This incredible revelation has numbed all my agonising pain
I was once quite different from the man that lies here now
I've awoken from this human dream, and I just can’t comprehend how
Fortunately, my injuries are just too severe, so it’s time to take a bow
As I long to return to those blue skies once more, that’s my dying vow
I lived on Gray Street when I was a boy
and rode my bike up hither ‘n yon.
Now my home is a concrete parking lot
and all its spirits ‘n souls are gone
I sang at Greyfriars church as a child
and learnt all about moth ‘n rust.
I learnt nothing is permanent or fixed
and it too fell into rubble ‘n dust
I jumped ‘n danced at the Country Club
when fete ‘n revelry came to town.
Music played all night in the dance hall
but its colonial past was torn down
I worked at the old store on Broadway
inside its chain doors ‘n iron cage.
But now it sits a vacant lot condemned
to history lost to a demolition age
I loitered ‘n limed at the Pelican Inn
in my rum diary in younger days.
Up on Coblentz Avenue from its ruins
the inn that stood has been razed
I remember in my grandfather’s house
when voices did echo every room.
Now strangers walk among the dead
and feels more like a family tomb
I feel the reverberation of spirit ‘n soul
that these forsaken places outlast.
But I have watched life ‘n time erase
the bricks ‘n mortar of my past
Written: July 2025
A poem is a little girl
Helping Mommy with the dishes
Or teaching her how to use
A computer app
A little boy at play
In his sandbox
Or the games apps on his i-pad
A poem is
Mommy kissing Dad
It’s the sun rising in the morning
A harvest moon at night
A poem is twinkling stars
Over motor cars
On bustling highways
It’s city lights and
Airplanes and satellites at night
Aurora Borealis unexpected
A poem is rhyme without reason
And deer out of season
It’s puppy dogs at play
And swans in flight
It’s all of the good things in life
And some of the bad
For a little boy it’s the moments
Shared with Dad
A poem is a vast unending river
Roaming quietly through the day
And growing quiet in the dusk
As it gently threads its present
To the past and a poem is
You in the fullness of life
Second sight in some infants, short tenure belies
Unbiased newness unpicks societal manufacture
To passers by, lurking spiritual assets recognisable
Pervading expression classifies their clairvoyance
Such was toddling dandelion darling, Aubergine
Unphased, observant, chillingly serene in nature
Cherubic smirk absorbed traits, antics compiled
Tea coloured irises brewed extracted evidence
Aloof by default, addictive was desire to amuse her
Surfacing sufficient wit to captivate earned pleasure
Complex humour her veracity seeking palate required
Ego's growth ensued causing her copper eyes to flare
Taut uncooked dough forehead bound words in focus
Incidental text in her proximity statue faced savoured
Without parental prompting, pillared wisdom widened
Constant calculation of her purposed component
Memorable eerie moment in Aubergine activity
I surreptitiously witnessed striking behaviour
"Don't tell Mummy, I was once burnt alive in fire."
She confided in her soft toy 'school' semi circle
Watching her calm revelation, mildly humilated
by my unfamiliarity with her zany brain's structure
Her sophistication held me dauntingly hypnotised
Haunted by her thirty month old pre life mystery
Written 18th June
( I just noticed today's date sounds a bit like 'Aubergine')
a word name I thought suited a little tot called Lexi
at a Day Care Centre I worked at a few years ago.
After putting this poem up, I realise
Aubergine sounds like Joan of Arc (Jeanne D'arc)
swapped syllables.
Didn't plan the poem to mention fire.
I had only the concept of outstanding baby girl when sat to write.
Not by itself is life complicated,
Let me not push world to ways of my head.
If I try and forgive but can’t forget,
Worse than a spell in hell my life may get.
What makes things look dark clouds is memory,
So, let me drain off all its history,
And everything in life’s jigsaw would fit,
Suddenly, lo, life’s so simple and sweet!
Good that I cannot my past lives recall,
One life’s memories take enough of toll.
And yet, few foster can that fortitude
To live alone in desert’s solitude,
Wonder, mind can fit a handy hard-disk
That picks and prunes memories at no risk!
________________________________________
Sonnet in couplets |05.08.2022|
Poet’s note: Reflecting on life, an old couple (old, what else? Youth has just no time to waste on reflections) exchanges views on the ways of world. The husband initiates the discussion and contributes the octave of this sonnet, and wife, the concluding sestet (yes, she always has the last word).
Intoxication with past life – an ache
and something yet unknown
that weakens my once humble bones...
Now structures fold in aspirations.
Am I your dream? Awake or false?
Who's knitted warm and fearless skin,
without a freckle left within?
Without remembrance, without sores
so pale and transparent I lie...
Transform till one of us expires...
Till morning judges if we sinned,
collecting one last thread to spin.
It's something on your tongue that got
the incense rubbed beneath my ears
and conquered mind with lotus roots
made petal imprints on my nails,
it is the thought I've never thought,
and heavy lines of future smeared
from your mischievous ideas.
You are the mistress of the wind,
releasing me from stagnant earth,
but still there is a thread so thin...
The piece of bark to keep the scent.
I feel such an affinity for the earth
For rivers, mountains and wild things
At times I feel I've been here before,
Before the angst the modern world brings
Was I a maiden, with long black hair
Who lived beside the great waters
Did I follow the buffalo, the people's path
Perhaps I was a warrior's daughter
In my dreams I hear the beat of the drum
And the smell of the campfire comes to me
Yet in the light of day I pause to wonder
If it was just a dream, or perhaps a memory
Drown demons in alcohol
I hear the devil's devilish call
Telling me to come here
With his pointy claws
Thinking back
When and where did I drop the ball
When and where did I fall
How did it go all wrong
How and for how long
Inside the husk of hallow songs
This is where I belong
Sucking sustenance through a straw
Time
Time spent. Time, spend my time. Here, there, dried reality, broken times
Yes, everything was lost, only the walk remained. In the space and time, walk alone
Walk alone
Walk alone
In the time
In the time
Remebering
The past
I just want someone to come back again. Again. This is the past. Back in the past
Recreate it from the past form again from the past time. Someone is in the past. Love
Her name is the Past. Not a woman. The past is what I want. The time of the lost age
It’s never coming back. I know it. But it’s my dream. The past. I want to live it now
Again and again. And again. Why was that time then, and why do I want it again? Why?
I can’t live without the past. Can’t. The past is pulling me back. This is the love of the past
My soul and the past are a union, they live together in the living past time, there is the dark
Dark and light in my life. The clouds are black in the sky, this is the dark life, so close, so far
Living in the dark memory is a sharp life. Now. Live in two time places, oh this is so high
Internal examination of my soul’s works. It is continuous. The question is why? That’s why
Questions from the past. Pasts from the questions. Questions from black clouds of lost life
My lost life. Others lost their lives. Everyone lost their lives. This time is like a dark hurricane
A storm. Is it the end of life? End of the world? No, it is not that, only a wave of the being
Being, being. I just see life. Is that being? Maybe a projection. Looks real. Strong view
Strong view is strong projection. But where is the existence? In the heart. Life comes…
From there. I want to kill my heart. I want to live without a heart. I want to live without
subjectivity. Yes. I want to see the reality. The real dream of life. The time of present time
Needs it kind. A kind. A lens. A lens without heart. Give me life. The objectivity of life
Time, life. Life, time. I want to live in the next. That’s the future. Imagined realism. Of life
Time
Life
Past
Kind
Next
Cruel?
No
Unknown
The life
Dead heart
romancing the throne
royaly
an old arrow finaly hit its mark
forgotten
the soothing whispers
after the threat of things that cannot be undone
my mind says i wll be at peace
the town cryer of shameful ironies
learning to discredit the lies among the truth
Stage was set with tragedy
of life lessons to let go of the scenery of life that was before
if i am alone in this rapture
grave awakenings i refuse to speak of
life willing to go homeless than face the cold relationship alone
wishing it would be your karma
to shape my dreams
not to live without them
like a thief of dreams
some other mistake with a name as deceptive as love
pertaining to the things that will change
your regret of owing me anything
corners your mind into deadlock
how did so many people know so much and so little
worlds burdens with no shoulder
heavy is my head
knowing i cannot change anything without your resentments
I truly don't care anymore
retiring completely from the fight of injustice
of rules and constantly changing laws to endless constant punishment
not even fit for your secrets of god
Roaming in these magnificent halls.
Seeing all the mirrors and paintings.
Alone I stroll, looking at history.
Loving the stories they once told.
Staring at the crystals on the ceilings.
Admiring the lights, a golden scene.
Everything classy and old.
The memories appear in my mind.
Drifting inside the rooms,
it's inviting and enticing.
Dancing in my red gown,
I feel I have lived here before.
Spinning in the ballroom,
enjoying the colors shift around.
The familiar music playing in my head.
I slip back to the time I once had.
I Will Always Remember You
Always, your age and memory will stay here
Age, that, what you mean, the unknown time
Of years. Those years. I can’t see. I didn’t see
Age, years, that you mean. That your age means…
Beautiful young missed age. Hmm. No chance.
Far your way. Remember you, someone. Else
Far. From far. From the erosion of my earthly life
You are in my heart. You are in a crystal frame
In your church. In a dark heart. Remembering love
Beautiful your light
Hmm. Beautiful love
Give me, please
Give me your light
From your side
Frome otherside
Be my guardian angel
Loving you, a guy
Was scoolmate
In the past