Best White Lotus Poems
It's never anything big, just a nagging defeat
Of wanting to be exclusive in your ambit,
For in your eyes, I see an opportune disguise
Living as a friend of genuine vibes gone awry.
It was the zealous-moon you adored with glee
When romantic vibes you scripted about me,
Fussing about moon-spot of slight imperfection
Looking at my face, hinting coy comparison.
When I lauded our pond's white lotus flowers
You admired silence of the ripples in water
Singing praises of existence so ephemeral,
Never denying you compared it to our love.
Being impulsive, you stole a rose from garden
Handing it to me like borrowed ardent charm.
As I held it in gratitude for its delicate beauty
It pierced my heart with its anguished thorns.
You take me places, pleasantly well-meaning
But when I get there, I'm left feeling alone
For you traverse a lone-orbit on your own
Leaving me to tangle by your rotational force.
When you ask me, if love still burns our flame,
I simply want to say, love has changed its name
For time has falsified what we once meant,
No more can I bear brokenhearted sunsets.
January 29, 2018
First place: One in five contest by Joseph May
Placed 2nd: Strand select 11 by Brian Strand
It was nearly two years ago, that I left the PS site
Bidding my friends fond 'farewell,' I took flight
If the door is ajar, I think I'll enter once more
Hoping things are better than they were before
My muse was confused, but wanted to return
So here we are ~ Your amity we hope to earn
We've written of fireflies and fragrant perfume
among flowering gardens in the height of bloom
Perhaps we'll pen with a new spark of creativity
for we've not lost the love for the art of poetry
It's a bond we share; a little nature, some romance,
If you like our music, kick off your shoes and dance
We've skipped over brooks and sat upon lawns
waiting for the sun to wake at the hour of dawn
Tucked topaz gems in petals of Spring's daffodils
hung diamonds on snow flakes in Winter chills
and pearls were strung across white lotus flowers
In honor of nature, we've been penning for hours
I am not Robert Frost, but the road back I'm taking
Nor am I Poe, whose dark poems leave you shaking,
but perhaps you might discover an emerald or two
in a love sonnet I write, or in silly limericks or Haiku
Let's share gifts that come from the heart and mind
of our muses who can be both stubborn and kind
Robert L. Stevenson wrote, "One line or letter bright"
in light that this is where my written verses alight.
He wrote, "glory in our patience," and "skim the pot"
so I'll take his words to heart, giving PS another shot.
I'm sure talented poets have since joined the soup
and I look forward to reading many of you in the group
"Mother,
You are my heartbeat
and I'm your lifeline,
we both are 'one',
as an inseparable hue of purity,
smeared upon the sacrosanct lotus..."
As you cradle
those sleepless stars,
swirling in my
insomniac flurry ink,
lulling me to
honeydew-soaked
slumber and
letting these
unicorn-lights
twinkle within every
pearlescent pulse,
my heart flies
across gentle
wonderlands of
fairy-knitted dreams,
believing in
seraphic miracles.
Although, I may
have been
drenched in
cavernous
bloodstorms and
my heart bleeds
russet hail, but,
you will always
heal my hauntings
with your
calendula-glazed
peridot symphonies,
forever shielding
my saffron
innocence within
your womb
of compassion,
soft like
creamy cotton,
and periwinkle-rosy
flickers of love.
I've been blessed
with the crimson-gold
warmth of a
motherly sunflower,
amidst this
cold autumnal
rain of bitter flakes
and spiced leaves.
You are my
white-lotus-winged
mermaid, a
featherless angel,
and this
watercolor child
will always draw
peony-incensed
gardens, carrying
the fruity fragrance
of maternal croons.
This lifetime
will incessantly
echo with nascent
harp's harmonies,
of a daffodil-
daughter's melody
for her spring-
scented mother,
for, it's the
only rare truth,
that has been
revealed amongst
onyx blades,
scattered across these
vulturous skies.
I never dream to
fathom those
lavender beaches
of snowy sonnets,
without the
cashmere caress
of your sheen
cinnamon shawl,
that gives me relief
from aching
frostbites,
rewarded by
this wistful world,
immersed in apathy.
I forevermore
wish to be that
last 'princess petal',
that remains
eternally etched
to the selfless
nurturing of your
pinkish throne.
At the end of the thought
was sadness.
When temple lies broken
a little white lotus comes up
on the tranquil lake.
A cute word enters the lone voice,
stands down, collapses, retreats into silence.
A chaste tree becomes a sage
and tenderness of the ash turns into an elegy.
The moon-face has frost on the eyes.
Tears blaze the lips.
Unbounded grief holds the space between
sobs, a bodiless spark.
Moons ago when sleep was a fragrant
gift, the song never touched the earth.
That dream sways like a Chinese lantern
without enthusiasm.
SATISH VERMA
What’s It Like?
First:
A strand of hair finer than silk in the Emperor’s robe blows across her face the very end catching in the corner of her mouth. She fills my field of vision her eyes looking full at me, there, a question therein: What’s it like?
Then:
Tiny wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. Yes, that dark spot in the iris, windswept black eyebrows thick and meaningful. Freckles (what an odd word).
Some superlatives:
She’s the orange and fire red of Oklahoma sunsets, Snake River waterfall mist, Palouse rolling richness, maple leaves drifting on the Guadalupe, warm butterscotch on vanilla ice cream clouds sweeping up the valley rain is sure to fall or is it tears? No matter.
Of another order:
The closet’s darkness she is blood on the hunter’s hands, desert dirt devil and twisted mesquite and rose thorns, hand tremors a finger on the trigger, harsh words spoken in anger; she can be cruel.
But then:
The whirligig dance at lake’s edge, white lotus above black water, the cicada wing I saw just this morning, her face so close to mine I can feel her skin’s moisture. I see most clearly that fine strand of hair.
And still the question: What’s it like?
Pine needles falling, I should think, koi blowing bubbles, a mother calling a hand on my shoulder the slightest touch whispers turn around see me. I won’t tell you lies; it hurts, that ache that arc that pain her fair hair’s autumn auburn blended sweetly with black water and her white dress, memories at the tip of mind, the spangled, star-struck twist and turn, dodge and dance of cold constellations.
That’s what it’s like.
At Paro of Bhutan I found the clouds
Gathering over the snow white peaks
Over the summit the deep blue shroud
Kept looking on in dazed disbelief
If one takes up my fountain pen
Or snatches my favourite umbrella
Restless naturally are all the grains
Confusion arrives in the sweet tabla
White clouds start fondling the peaks
Drawings of beautiful chaos emerge
Surge of colourfully deep drum beat
Dance in the white peaks go berserk
Rises from the foothills the peace palm
Lifted in the air from a milky white lotus
In the eyes smiling the poems of psalm
Enjoy in peace, ---says a voice sonorous
I quieted my pen and put down the notebook
In bliss kept fixated my blue pacific look
_______________________________________
Tabla : A small drum or pair of drums of India turned to different pitches and played with the hands : In Dictionary.com
May 2, 2016
White lotus floats by ~
silver starlight shimmers down ~
blue cool river flows.
Death, existence, come and go,
Like a tidal undertow…
Waves that toss us, winds that blow,
Raging storms and biting snow,
Hunger, anger, joy, and woe,
Hellish heat with burning glow…
Saints and sages ‘in the know’
Quibble bookish quid pro quo.
Artful seekers high and low
Chase illusions to and fro,
Board their boats and row, row, row,
Partially-illumined, though…
Ever-present, apropos,
Where true wisdom waters flow,
Those mind-opened practice, show
That enlightenment will grow
From the lotus seeds they sow
(Equally for friend or foe)
Of Nam-myoho-renge-kyo.
Mortals here on planet Earth,
Do we see a being’s worth?
Know the gateway to be free?
Realize where lies the key?
Ancient Buddhist scrolls unfurled,
Let us sense our inner world,
Walk around within, explore,
Enter through the Dharma door…
Lost will find what’s gone amiss,
In despair, in want, or bliss…
Humankind at precipice,
Life itself abides in this
Single all-embracing phrase!
Sounds profound, astound, amaze…
Who recites it sings its praise,
Dark of nights and bright of days…
Utterness Dharma
Wholly revealed!
Sentient karma
Lastingly healed!
And we plod on… fast or slow,
With the work in progress, so
As to render what was heard,
Each and every golden word
Of the Oral Teachings by
Nichiren… that is, we try—
Plus some Buddha Writings, more
Handed down from ages yore,
Many from the olden store
Still as timely as before—
Thus to offer, help bestow
This Nam-myoho-renge-kyo…
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * *
[For Martin Bradley and Gerhard Lenz]
Nam Myoho Renge Kyo means to devote our lives to and found them on (Nam[u]) the Utterness of the Dharma [entirety of existence, enlightenment and unenlightenment] (Myoho) permeated by the underlying white lotus flower-like mechanism of the interdependence of cause, concomitancy and effect (Renge) in its whereabouts of the ten [psychological] realms of dharmas (Kyo).
[ See... .dharmagateway.org/harley_poems. ~ Poetry with a Buddhist Theme ~ by Harley White ]
BIRDS AND FLOWERS
If you love birds don’t cage them.
What free creature
Would choose a fetter? Though
The warmth and food are guaranteed,
And risk from storm and hawk,
An Atlantic gale feels better.
If you love flowers don’t pick them.
What flower would choose
To have its roots ripped away
For all the brown sugar and teabags in China?
Flowers and shoots in a cut-glass vase -
In a cut-glass coffin - are dying.
Pretty dried blooms carefully embalmed - are dead
If you love life, death has no glory.
What pharaoh would not trade
His pyramid, myriad years in the building,
For forty seconds worth of fresh air
Blowing over the Nile with the scent of
White lotus on the breeze
And the fluty song of the golden oriole?
I fall a raindrop from stratus to stratum
birthed from clouds pregnant with thunder
a lion’s roar —a pride in the sky— fierce!
armed with lightning’s rip and slit
the scythe of claw and tooth finds its prey
knifing sunset’s skin desecrating cranberry rays
it’s red demise fills my see-through-eyes
Sun’s canvas shredded
I fall through tattered pages of watercolor-layers
accumulating dust and blood of the slayed day
I arrive not a predator but a peace-maker
my raiment fleece of lamb not mane of beast
I come to rest
a drop of rain who clings to a windowpane
… translucence transforms me
inside a room I see myself with my possession-pain
a swaddle-bundle I rock to soothe
pain held against my breast like a newborn
crying to be fed
nurtured with lemon-squeezed tears
and sticky sick-sweet milk of revenge
my fingertips trace my descent down the glass
I pray not to let the dark moon be my doom
I know myself like turmoil-seas know the shore
let the salt-sea’s seethe meet still grains of sand
abrasions cleanse one of crime and grime
I know myself like the night knows the morn
let the night be a knight
and capture rapture with light-swords of dawn
I know myself
the games I played with leather fringe and lace
his Marlboro face the Moët taste
the magnet attraction pulled my limbs apart
I am a tear liberated from the storm
free to fall free to fall oh I had to fall so far to be free
fall from heights where lust-wishes glisten
slip the stardust handcuffs
fall from nimbus find the limbus of self and soul
find a way to rise above black seams
and wanton scenes of my scream-dreams
translucence transforms me
I let go of the windowpane
and die to myself casting off pleasure of pain and sin
I fall to silent-sister soil inhaled to be exhaled
on dizzy wind-whimsy-warmth of first light
I fall a new drop of dew wet with sky light
as I bear Love's cross like a white lotus bears its muddy birth
There are rights and wrongs, or so it seems,
in the most outlandish fancy flights.
When we’re asleep even in our dreams
there’s an awareness of wrongs and rights.
Yet are they the same for all of us?
Perhaps in our deepest inward core
far off from frivolity and fuss
there’s a source profound that knows there’s more…
To thyself be true, ‘tis said, but what
is self– a semblance that dwells within
behind a door that is often shut
amidst the incessant daily din?
We gaze at the stars but lack insight
into inner realms that shape our fate
through mindless passions that we ignite,
then realize too little too late.
What wisdom can save us from ourselves?
Could guidelines showing which path to take
lie in ancient books on dusty shelves?
Our future destiny is at stake.
Drowning in darkness, blind to the way
of where our true devotion belongs,
we drift unseeing through night and day
clinging to relative rights and wrongs.
Lost in the dream of our mortal plight,
we’re fast asleep in delusion’s spell,
innate, along with enlightened light.
Will humans awaken? – time will tell…
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * *
The inspiration for the poem is from the writings of Nichiren Daishonin, in particular, the writing called, “A Collation of the Layers of the Various Teachings of all the Buddhas of the Past, Present and Future as to Which Specific Doctrines are to be Discarded or Established”…
http://www.dharmagateway.org/chapter4.htm
http://www.dharmagateway.org/
http://www.dharmagateway.org/why_we_recite.htm
Nam Myoho Renge Kyo means to devote our lives to and found them on (Nam[u]) the Utterness of the Dharma (Myoho) [entirety of existence, enlightenment and unenlightenment] permeated by the underlying white lotus flower-like mechanism of the interdependence of cause, concomitancy and effect (Renge) in its whereabouts of the ten [psychological] realms of dharmas (Kyo).
Full moon reflects in the unstained white Lotus that floats in the quiet pond.
1-29-2016
DEATH HAS NO GLORY
For those who love life, death has no glory.
What pharaoh would not trade
His pyramid, myriad years in the building,
For forty seconds worth of fresh air
Blowing over the Nile with the scent of
White lotus on the breeze
And the fluty song of the golden oriole?
.............................................................
Other poems of mine, similar to this, are available at
https://www.fictionmagazines.com/magazines/five/
Fall in love again
why did you look back and smile?....
not my fault at all.
Bring back your sixteen
I will be nineteen at ease,
have fun and frolic,
let's have that air balloon ride
in the sky of teenage love.
Just give me your hands my love,
in your white lotus like palms
I will paint my poetry...
poetry of love.
© kashinath karmakar(22nd May, 2011)
=============================
Placement: 7th; (June 2011)
By:kashinath karmakar
Contest:Fun and Frolic (3 Forms)
Sponsor:Linda-Marie The Sweetheart
The resonance invitation does my intention deliver…
Discover your prince; your best friend, your knight…
Say yes to your dream; your wish, your desire…
Flow with the nudge coming from within…
Allow your greatest love experience to begin…
You are the Goddess, priestess barer of life…
Wholly complete this universal wife…
Gazing through your eye window caressing your soul…
Gifting unto you my cosmic song of enchantment…
Raa Maa Daa Saa Saa Say So Hung…
Raa Maa Daa Saa Saa Say So Hung
With certainty, confidence, certitude and concivtion…
Free from limitation, inhibition or angst inclination…
My love is resolved, courageous with Assurant solution…
Present moments of our togetherness beaming blissfully the radiance of light…
Knowing this feeling of united union repose; fused are the two flames, behold their might…
You are the Goddess, priestess barer of life…
Wholly complete this universal wife…
Gazing through your eye window caressing your soul…
Gifting unto you my cosmic song of enchantment…
Raa Maa Daa Saa Saa Say So Hung…
Raa Maa Daa Saa Saa Say So Hung…
From across the universe have I journeyed, guided directly to you from your hearts essence...
When life blesses me with your presence, I am consumed within the timeless vortex of the original emotion…
Piercing my being you’re spiraling has bloomed in me the white lotus
Illuminated; floating above the realm of fear… I am prepared to experience your affection…
Walking alongside your path the devoted life companion…
My simple request; merely holding your hand with passion…
You are the Goddess, priestess barer of life…
Wholly complete this universal wife…
Gazing through your eye window caressing your soul…
Gifting unto you my cosmic song of enchantment…
Raa Maa Daa Saa Saa Say So Hung…
Raa Maa Daa Saa Saa Say So Hung…