Best Reincarnation Poems
Dreams of India
Her music haunts me
in such a knowing way
it makes me weep
and causes my heart to ache.
I become homesick for her
scents, her sounds, her food,
her enchanting dance
which spawns dreams
of her romance.
I know in my heart
I have lived there,
I know, I have loved there.
Her poetry transcends
my spirit to encompass
a wholeness that is
so familiar to me.
I dream of the Ganges ,
and her gentle cleansing flow,
of reflections on its surface
when the moon is hanging low.
Of crickets singing nightly
to serenade me to sleep.
I dream of colors of the saris,
the beauty that they keep...
Of garlands placed with care,
a gajra in a maiden's hair
and the hues of floral leis.
I hold a reverence for Hindu
Devata and Devi.
I aspire to learn the sacredness
of varmala in the seeds of
past lifetimes I have shared.
A passion grows for those
whose love glows through their
auras to welcome strangers.
I'd love to share a cup of chai
to chat with friends in open air.
I long to return home, though
I have never been there.
1-2-19
*a gajra: flowers which females use as a decoration
for their hair.
*Varmala: is a tradition from ancient times where a beautiful garland of flowers symbolizes a proposal of marriage. In the tradition of Swayamvar. A female would choose her life partner from a group of suitors by placing a flower garland around the neck of her chosen man. Once the girl had made her choice, a marriage ceremony would be held gright away.
~Poem of the Day January 4, 2019~
~1st Place~
A BRIAN STRAND 1092
Brian Strand: Judged 2022 March 20
~9th Place Premiere Contest~
Your Best Free Verse That You Wrote Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
'I Got a Darn NA Again' Contest
Sponsor Luloo
Free Verse Style Only Poetry Contest~N/A~
“The death lasts an average of 49 days, starting from the day the deceased realized his death”. Bardo Thodol (The Tibetan Book of the Dead)
I beg you, death, pour me the final sip
of your elixir of the dreamless sleep.
Oh, strongest wine of darkness in the glass
I’ve dipped my lips just seven weeks ago,
which bitter sweetness promised to bestow
upon me an oblivion. Alas,
the everlasting boozer comes around.
He’s mortal as of now, he is bound
to see another one anemic dawn
of consciousness among the smoking ruins
of non-existence. Curse you all, the brewings
and the distilleries of death! The morn
of a new life is painful. The hangover,
the nausea, the ache - that's all what's left
of my sweet void. Oh, the internal heft
of being!.. The phlox, the marigold, the clover
on my fresh grave are still in bloom but I
am born again to suffer and to die.
REINCARNATION THINKING?
Life is like a coloring book
with few or many pages
filled with complex
outlined images.
We are given a box of crayons
and are asked to color in the
background and spaces of the images
Sub-titles are allowed.
When the coloring book is finished
we are given a new one to complete.
C.A.K. 12-6-2012
REINCARNATION THINKING 2 -SOUL SEARCHING
Was I once before or never
Don’t know how or even whether
I was a firefly, a bird of prey
a centipede, a fish fillet?
A baseball fan to keep the score
a mockingbird, a carnivore?
A blossom in the midst of spring
a sign of what the day might bring.
A germ grown in a Petri dish
a chicken bone an unmade wish
All things and species could I be,
even remnants of a tree.
Of all of these, I leave this post,
I am for now what I am most.
CAK 7-23-2012
MORE QUESTIONS ON RE-INCARNATION
As 'core' beliefs thicken so,
does it leave us room to grow?
As aging souls say we must,
complete the cycle which was thrust
upon our bucolic living place
turned upside down in whorling space
searching for a redemptive life.
But for you, dearest one, do you not remember
before you arrived, you took this bucking horse of soul,
tamed it, labeled it and proclaimed it.
To become what you needed in order
that your ride be contained and controlled.
It's name is 'balance' and it keeps you level in the saddle
so you don't fall off.
10-3-2012
REINCARNATION THINKING 3 -
If, we are on a soul journey,
then what must that soul become?
A better soul? A wiser soul?
A sad soul? A learned soul?
Until one reaches the end of time,
There are so many lives to live out
to fully experience all aspects of this world.
Animals, plants - more souls searching?
One can speculate, but from my perspective
none of it makes sense.
CAK 4-03-2012
REINCARNATION ENDING
Was the Phoenix reincarnated?
Or was its embers reignited?
Perhaps before a lowly worm or soldier bee
or brown turned leaf upon a tree?
A seahorse, a shark, which fish shall I be?
In fisherman's net to be eaten by me?
And when the cycle is complete
and x equals x on our balance sheet.
Can we then rest in a celestial lair
with memories gone and unaware
of trials by all things forgotten?
If choose I must or chosen by me,
I'll remain in the stars and just wait to see.
6-2-2012
The Unveiling
Vision
A realization
Heartfelt revelation
Of survival amid isolation
And with the noblest of intention
To defy mortality and attain regeneration
Not every journey reaches its ultimate destination
Still one sigh respired diffuses throughout all of creation
Tenderly awaken a dormant realm of reincarnation
Distant voices chant hymns in unison
Resuscitating desiccated carnation
Such a magical rejuvenation
Of cosmic proportion
Sanctification
Affirmation
Union
Penned: 03/28/2022
4:12 a.m.
Lake Worth
Florida USA
*if ya wanna add some sillies, hop on the wagon!
After the feast, Tommy was gone
Hen said, "Don't worry, won't be for long."
"He'll reincarnate,
Just sit and wait."
"He's not just SOME - POET, Tommy's a song."
"He's always a gas, loads of fun,
With plenty of wit and good with a pun."
"If you miss him,
Be sure to kiss 'em,
When he comes again to shine like the sun."
By Jan Allison:
When he struts it engorges his snood
Oh my goodness that really sounds rude
It dangles from his beak
You must go take a peek
See Tom is the king of his brood.
By ilene bauer:
He was missed, though, by all of his group
Who felt bad he was out of the loop
So they jotted some rhymes
Thinking 'bout those good times
Now he's brought back to life on the soup!
By Alexis Y:
Tommy the turkey is not gone
He's hibernating and listening to a song
When he comes back
His strut won't be whack
Maybe this time he'll arrive with loud gong
By rogerPAT Adams:
When he struts it's more of a wobble
No matter if ground, grass or cobble
Though it might seem rude
When he's in the mood
I've heard he loves to gobble!
By Jack Ellison:
Tommy can be very rude at times
But down deep, his star really shines
His heart glows bright
Nothing bad I can write
Like his author, he's a master of rhyme"
REINCARNATION
Death chases Life to
Perfection through Death
back again.
He followed the motion and before it left the hand, he was away.
His greatest thrill was fulfilling his purpose, to please.
On returning, he stood patient, waiting for that firm stroke
That caressed his spine; and the feel of the palm on his ribcage;
Two pats coupled with the words: “Good Boy”.
He knew this pleasure was a current that ran both ways.
This game of fetch, as close as he could ever come,
To playing catch with his father.
The way they did,
When he was once a boy.
You can return to earth for two days they said,
but not in that worn out body.
I knew that; and I was glad; it was almost blind,
and had a touch of dementia any way.
You have to go incognito, they told me.
They were stern, and stuck up angels,
Not the kind I was expecting to meet my
first hour in heaven. Assertive even.
Here were my body choices: fourteen year old boy,
red hair, freckles, square chin.
Eighty-nine year old body, old lady, wrinkled,
spotted hands, sweet smile, looked serene.
Or two-year-old female, blonde hair, plump and perfect.
I could not see their eyes, for the eyes do not appear
until you enter the body suit.
Two-year-olds can be dancy-prancy. But that would mean
I would have to have gatekeepers in the form of parents,
probably, and I wanted two days of freedom not naps.
Being eighty- nine did not appeal to me at all.
I have never enjoyed arthritis in my feet or a humpback.
“Fourteen year old boy,” I told them. They nodded,
being smug angels, and my self-chosen-spirit-guides for many lifetimes.
All of my relatives stared at the giggling freckled
red-haired teenage boy at my funeral.
They speculated that he had escaped from the
boys’ group home on the corner.
Every time one of them got up and said something
nice about me, the boy burst out laughing.
They did not escort him out, because weirdly enough,
he had my witch-laugh, and it comforted them.
I combed cool waters of your baby blue
crystalline Jewel as you waded waterfall
waves washing my stellar rainbow rays
arching it melted into the warm womb
of transducing tangoing Earth
Her Violet Flame devoured us both
as nectared dewdrops to fuel the fire
our soma swirling into ecstatic orange
oxytocined crane flowers whispering
wisdoms to a hundred yellow butterflies
fluttering and flirting
They circled a sunken Atlantean apex
atop where you ruled anew with Baconian
brown locks surrounded by sirens serving
savoury silver sardines, oolite oyster shells
sang solos as dolphins dived, oceanic mouthed
In Ancient Egypt you followed my runcinate
rulings or indigo sorrow siglums, sighing
becoming slimmed seeker who served
Thoth well whilst wreathing my wounded
worthiness and fallow fallopian tubes
at pyramidal plumed midnight hour
In our Grecian lifetime you draped alabaster
urns lighting my marble mantelpiece
I watched breath enter your nebulae nostrils
as you crafted provincial proverbs instructing
slaves to whiten your garb with lemons from
our sculpted garden
On lavender Celtic hills we exchanged kilts
not knowing whose waist was whose
barefoot we flaunted sleek sharp sapphire
studded swords dancing necessary wild wars
Who remembered and who forgot
where in ether our nestling niche napped
as games of betrayal, fear or doubt
doubled into involuting circles and spirals
each tried to neck THE VOID as naked
excuse for not excavating heaving Heart
How much escaping, escapades, evolutionary
clocks cloak our cusps or cues or custard
synchronicities
how many summer summit starlings must
seek to sing of sorrow or of wolves, withering
willows, watermelons on this Planet of
coloured curriculums
holding dear our distinctive designs where
lacy lament is but another aperture into Space
I seek not to know !
. . . and with a haughty drink
of Virgil’s water
from the River Lethe
I venture forth knowing nothing
bring on the steps ahead
and what awaits . . .
but the waters have a taste
and some things feel familiar
a few of the steps ahead
look like my footprints
turning to a river
I feel I once chanced upon
and sensing
I am but circles within circles
In the cycle of lives, in the wheel of fate,
We tread our paths, our deeds dictate,
For in Hindu belief, karma reigns supreme,
Guiding our souls like a timeless stream.
Incarnate souls, in myriad forms,
From human realms to animal norms,
Each birth a step, a karmic dance,
A chance to learn, to evolve, to advance.
Perhaps I'll be born a cow in India's embrace,
Where reverence and freedom find their place,
To roam the streets, untouchable, revered,
In service to humanity, no shadow feared.
Or maybe a monkey, agile and free,
In lands where trees whisper secrets to me,
To frolic and play, with food in hand,
A life of joy in nature's grandstand.
Yet amidst these choices, a deeper call,
To devote my karma, to stand tall,
To help my fellow beings in need,
To nurture the earth, to plant the seed.
For in this devotion, in this selfless deed,
Lies the path to Nirvana, the soul's true need,
To transcend the cycle, the incarnate plight,
And merge with the divine, in eternal light.
Would write to none if a day to live, talk to death
Don’t tarry a while, O Death, I am ready to die
All my joys are garnered, all my songs sung
And all my tears are shed, my wishes fulfilled.
Life and death, secrets of God, never be known
If told, one day to behold, this beautiful fold
If I don’t die a sudden death, I have this to say to
My dear ones present when I breathe my last.
Let me sleep and rest, my soul intoxicated with love
My spirit has had its bounty of days and nights.
Light the candles and burn the incense around
Scatter leaves of jasmine and roses over my body.
I have no fear of life hence have no fear of death
I have lived life fully and prepared to die any time.
Death is neither an end nor a deliverance of the self
Death a slumber, a sleep-life, a stage in cosmic cycle.
+++
September 23, 2014
Form: Free Verse
Dr. Ram Mehta
Sixth Place win
Contest: The Poet III by Gautami Phookan
Cherish much
The unseen
Once touched
Once known
All we've grown
Faded at birth
The body sown
To keep spirit dry
Clouds floating by
Due to return
Are you and I
Pieces of forever
We die never
Bodies die each day
We grow only better
We learn our part
Live in your heart
Not your body
One is joy's start
The other only sorry.
Gold leaves flutter on autumn eddies - soil accepts grateful of nourishment
Eamon Duffin
7th in Contest Sponsored by Constance La France ~ A Rambling Poet ~"One Amazing Line"
When we were vultures
Living in mangers
You told me you'd love me
Forever.
The seasons cry into each
other. The sounds warp.
You become a constellation.
A morass of deep meaning,
Filling my lungs,
Untill I can barely breathe.