Contest-- Snow fantasy or Christmas Nostalgia
By-- Constance (La France)
" The white of snow is far than it appears"
By-- Poet
A ornament the land itself has worn,
First snow descends and settles on the ground;
It marks the present bright as Christmas morn,
A blanket soft where yesterday is drowned,
And stirs old longing waiting to be found.
The whispered prayers and laughter gently rise,
With tales of Santa drifting through the night;
A promise kept in every child’s surprise
The snowman’s scarf tucked warm against the white,
As snowfall brings each wandering heart home bright.
Our true nature is love and light and bliss
but to know this, ego must be exhumed,
that full in emptiness, nothing amiss,
beholding our heart lotus fully bloomed,
we rest in the void, with bliss mists perfumed.
On waking from sleep, ‘I-thought’ arises
and being its nature, mind apprises,
so in our waking state, investigate
the source of ‘I-thought’, till mind capsizes,
that light of truth dawns, in stillness sedate.
Awareness self-aware, free from ego,
is our pristine state when we get to know
that who we are in truth is living light,
free from delusion, aura pure like snow,
divine consciousness drenched in bliss delight.
Bliss holds attention in meditation,
being simply total thought cessation,
which is the means for us to become free,
feeling one at last with God’s creation,
as vibrant presence roaming earth carefree.
Living a fourteenth century life in twenty first
waves of electro-magnetic circles
unstuck stuck resistance to unruly burst
fierce as a tiger ready to hurtle
mind making excuses in rehearsal
Scarcity a dominant stubborn thought
Freedom’s silent scream inside remains naught
Faith strong calls no craving or aversion
Honesty and Courage together taught
manipulation flies, a dispersion
To realise light of Self is our aim,
to which end by shedding every belief,
we recognise the truth that has no name,
upon which ego falls off like a leaf,
granting our presence much needed relief.
Nothing need be done save coming undone,
discarding thought spirals by our mind spun,
whence as the Self, shining as living light,
as dreamer and dreamed, we see all as one,
in silence thus having garnered clear sight.
I hate those politicians, they just lie
Promises of earth to any takers
Every time the ballot box is nigh
They'll sell their souls, fast as recordbreakers
By six months they've been exposed as fakers
Fast forward forty years fate does recall
My speech prepared, a wry fly on the wall
Flattered by the lure of praise and title
My rosette pinned, I'm shaking hands with all
Gritted teeth, I lie through my recital
The ego always needs something to do,
weaving a path through space, measured by time,
existing as long as thought forms renew,
at all times seeking new mountains to climb
and thus oblivious to bliss beat’s chime.
Once we drop the body, then what remains,
save unfulfilled desires as our soul’s stains,
which then becomes the cause of our rebirth,
so why not break free now from ego’s chains,
joyous, nonchalant and bubbling with mirth?
From dark-brown bare bones, blood-red garnets swing.
Green jade leaves spread their ballet-dancing shades.
In storms, these garnets, to twigs, tightly cling.
Knit with tender stems, these look like cockades.
Their prism hues shatter like topaz blades.
I see, in plums, calmness and tranquil growth.
How they valiantly face wild nature's wrath!
These little fruits hold divine elegance.
Never one could see in plums any sloth.
Each plum is a celestial resonance.
Decisive push on the small of my back,
intensity knocked the wind out of me.
Shoved so indecently hitting that track,
too much stillness to take innocently.
Mapping the unseen motion constantly,
all at once the eye became an echo.
I instinctively knew how to swallow
some honey with a hint of hurricane.
That whisper of heat I’ll amplify slow,
a disastrous but deadly-soft refrain.
Assign not God a name, symbol or form
but rather recognise Him in the heart,
feeling His magnetism, loving and warm,
that in silence as God search we so start,
we will see Him on adding love to cart.
God, as the eye of our eye, is the source,
Who we merge with, without applying force,
when we drop all vicarious knowing,
remaining still, God guiding our life’s course,
our mood and mode blissful, gently flowing.
Having discarded all imagined knowing,
with eyes for no other, seeking God alone,
witnessing soma nectar within flowing,
poised in silence, as our consciousness we hone,
exhuming ego we come into our own.
Ego depends on thought and thought on desire,
so when there remain no objects to acquire,
formless presence tip toes into heart unshod,
which is how with the universe we conspire,
to behold in direct sight, the face of God.
light of Self beheld, our vision clearer
dwelling in peace, no agenda remains
and as the presence of God draws nearer
divine magnetism cleanses our soul’s stains
freeing us at last from ego borne chains
even though we’re transformed as a bliss mist
habit patterns may perhaps yet exist
which is alright and let God be the judge
whose will we trust, having ceased to resist
responding gently to His slightest nudge
Mind crystallises our intent as thought
and then we ask, to whom do these thoughts come,
that in silence thus becoming self-taught,
our focus is fixed on the cosmic hum,
heart delighting as bliss beats within strum.
The thought of bondage pertains to ego
but once the truth of Self we get to know,
questions cease since we become the answer,
grateful for boons of grace God does endow,
aura aflame like a cosmic dancer.
As the eternal one, shining alone,
we call existence, consciousness and bliss,
is realised when we choose to atone,
felt by all forms as Divine Mother’s kiss,
reflecting God’s light in the dark abyss,
concealing by magic, lustre innate,
from earth entities, bound to fickle fate.
Hiding in each heart, God Himself does dwell,
recognised clearly when mind is sedate,
desireless and freed from the ego’s spell.
In human to human interaction,
when our heart’s expectation is betrayed,
as the feeling of deep hurt gains traction,
our consciousness contracts, we feel dismayed
and the glow in our heart begins to fade,
so to heal ourselves we need to forgive,
overcoming ego’s thoughts combative,
invoking grace, raising our vibration,
that the past erased, in joy we may live,
feeling again love’s reverberation.
The light of Self is in five sheaths concealed,
the grossest being this form made of dust,
then is the life force breath by breath revealed
and kundalini’s potent power thrust,
beyond which is lower mind we mistrust,
then intuition, aligned with God’s mind,
subtlest being bliss imbibed by hearts kind,
so when we speak of form it is all this,
where in our heart’s core, light of Self’s divined,
beyond space-time, in the void’s dark abyss.
Specific Types of Dizain Poems
Read wonderful dizain poetry on the following sub-topics:
christmas, friends, funny, kids, love, music, nature, school, sports
and more.
Definition | What is Dizain in Poetry?