Long Beingness Poems
Long Beingness Poems. Below are the most popular long Beingness by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Beingness poems by poem length and keyword.
Lithesome steps lead me to an ancient
temple
Perched across a bay, weeds and
hyacinths curl between my feet,
Where mist refills bowl of cotton clouds
As rustling breeze ascends on skyline's ladder.
In stillness, I lounge on the pew to whisper unsaid psalmic devotions
for a world which aches for calmer
retreat--
That I reach a peak where the mind
becomes absent--
Then I hear them , a medley of peals
Lifting me higher in regulated tempo from gong
rhythms,
A music swelling in warm temperance Until warm kiln of light and radiant
fireflies stir my kundalini.
On this treasured moment, a sentient
energy
Cleanses my beingness from past sins -- mortal and venial-
That I listen to the clang of my inner child's soft echoes entering my veins:
Somewhere in blank spaces, bells swing of
innocent laughter...a treble,
a clap
bringing me to the kindness of youth,
And my body stays quiet, welcoming this rite of
passage on days when the spirit calls for an
interlude's break...a meditative
connection with
the self--
without the need to speak.
Mark
The earth turns its face from you
as if ashamed. You
who tilled the soil, now marked
by what the soil received.
Your brother's blood—
how it murmurs, how it screams.
Deafness would be a mercy.
Wanderer
At Babel, you watch them build
their tongues a discordance of hope.
You know better.
The tower falls. Always, things fall.
In Athens, questions hang in the air
like ripe fruit. You reach for one
find your hand empty.
Constantinople burns.
You've seen this fire before
in your own heart, in Abel's eyes.
Love
Her laughter—sunlight on water.
For a moment, you forget remembering
the weight of your name.
Time, that relentless thief,
steals her breath, leaving you
with pockets full of silence,
her absence echoing in your eternal night.
Witness
Verdun. Mud and blood
indistinguishable. You've carried this earth before,
will carry it again. In Selma, voices rise.
You join the chorus, unseen.
Your story spoiled, yet written
in every cry for justice,
a testament to your own unending quest for peace.
Grace
The sea spilling secrets
waves crashing against the shores of your soul.
In a quiet cell, you contemplate forgiveness—
that impossible shore.
Your heart is a vessel of unspoken prayers.
Each wave a reminder: the divine
as elusive as your peace.
Mortality
She sees you—truly sees.
Beyond the mark, the myth,
to the man who carries centuries in his bones.
You learn to love in moments, not millennia.
Each breath a gift, each touch a benediction
her presence a bridge to your humanity.
Return
The earth no longer rejects you.
You lay down, finally
into the arms of the brother
you've carried all this time.
Abel smiles. You close your eyes.
The silence, at last, is sweet.
Sixty plus, and counting,
Still running from my life:
Child, athlete, writer, warrior,
Master Teacher, mother, wife.
Still pondering the age-old question,
"Who am I?"
Am I what I do? What I have? Where I work?
Or, are these just my alibis?
Who looks out longingly
from my tired, tear washed eyes?
Am I what I own? Where I've been? Who I've loved?
Or, are these just my alibis?
Does my body define me?
Am I only flesh and blood?
Or, am I composed of each fleeting moment,
Comprised of sweetness, truth and love?
Once, long ago, in a precognitive dream,
I heard God's resonating voice whispering to me,
"You are Eternal, Immortal, and nothing can hurt you."
So, am I cosmic lights and spirit? Am I the path I seek?
Once, long ago, out of body,
I reveled in a sheath of cosmic light,
Knowing the truth of my own Oneness
And the ecstasy of dimensions in transcending flight.
"I Am that I AM." said the Most High God.
Can it really be so starkly simple,
To speak our truth and declare our Beingness,
And all of Life our sacred temple?
I am all possibility, one with my Source.
Powerful, omniscient: an unwavering creative Force.
By my focus and intention, I look deeply into Sri Yantra.
and I become who I choose to be.
By simply deciding to, I call forth the essence of me.
Chula Fleming© 5/22/2015
Long Thin Blade of Weariness...
gloom of daze parries the long thin blade of weariness
metaphors adjust frequency matched patterns of
interwoven connectivity through mirrored meaning...
sameness, a variation of conformity, eventuates in
perennial lack for something notable to
be rendered as an attendant distraction...
corsets laced tightly although furtively hidden...
armatures support long in the tooth masses of
wobbly flesh and bones devouring kindred signs of desire...
levied endowments of netting bespoken quietly
as their whispered confluence of thoughts,
still wet from their birth, makes for an interesting
Sunday brunch as served by some, received by others
halve to have not - who says who scrapes the salt
from the mines of harvested beingness?
who doth say anything at all?
2024
I AM as I AM, free & formless in a domain timeless
In, as & one with & within the sea of Oneness
Dissolved and yet in as ordained, distinct
Pure love awareness in a boundaryless precinct
In, within and in yet as by Oneness ordained
The beingness of love seeking outpouring, now contained
Choicelessly choosing to view Its reflection
In the mirror of duality without any distortion
As so chosen, so began, love benign-ability
Polarity in singularity
Creating sensory movement in duality
Spherical vision confined to timeline linearity
The love absolute
Choicelessly resolute
Now within a living body of perfection
Matter manifest as divine vibration
The pure love outpouring
Within body of lower vibration anchoring
Prismatic refraction of ephemerality bemusing
Anchors of grossness to the vehicle of form alluring
Love then, looking at its reflection
Within in-form consciousness, seeing a contortion
Observes that the transient life of the vehicle of imagination
Within duality, is oblivious of its own divinic origin
Linear time then slowly turns
Hypnotically, inexorably churns
The wheel of illusion
Trapping consciousness in mayic delusion
Love being love, yet outpours its nectar
Dispersing magnetically across all vectors
But duality being the zone so choicelessly chosen
The same free will of consciousness keeps its ascension frozen
Yet love being one and consciousness being porous
In timeless time nodes within form, all being love, sing in chorus
Engage in a rhythmic dance synchronous in timeless being-ness
As of resonation to the vibration of the That Oneness
In, within, in-form & formless stillness
Later That Evening
by Odin Roark
Later that evening
We saw sounds of lightning’s wings
Touches of symphonic batons
The fragrance of paint awaiting canvas
The images of inner peace
The taste of weightlessness
So many sensations
Unavailable during the day
You remember?
So easy
It was
The we of me
Of you
Oneness
Reserved
For collective beingness
We let the flames warm
The day’s frozen fears
Our sun-cloud enlighten doubt
Simplicity personify permanence
As we gave away
The need for nothingness
You do remember
Don’t you?
Such were our times together
What only one’s muse and charge
Can know
All else is illusion
Remember?
URGE OF MY SOUL:
I always feel some urge inside of myself,
Although I can't describe exactly how it's shelved.
It's supernatural and so great,
And it pushes me to walk with strong faith.
So I trust in the existence of this Sovereign God,
Who birth the universe with an accord.
Yet, my own eyes have never seen Him before,
Nothing stops me from getting God adored,
As my soul keeps singing these words to the creator as an applaud,
"The name Jehovah is so divine,
His Supremacy is totally everlasting.
All His creations prove He is really kind,
And He gives rest to they that are heavy laden.
In fact, He is the sage's utmost desire,
And in His goodness, I'm gracefully hidden.
So why should I idolise mere humans,
Whose ambitions are carnally planned,
Or why should I worship a graven image,
That would profit me nothing but gabbage?
It's only the fool who doubt Jehovah's existence,
But believe in unnecessary stuff beingness..."
be we in duality
or in singularity
essence of aliveness
requires a vibration
renewing itself within itself
or what we call consciousness
the screen of space-time
is the stage set for duality
of what is all that is manifest
as perishable phenomenon
within which we are containerised
in a decaying organic vessel
noumena of singularity is the bardo
no-thingness before the outpouring
self-existent light in ineffable peace
feeling complete in unending renewal
with full freedom but no urge to act
no adversity and therefore no learning
that the embryo of living light be enabled
with Christ consciousness awakened
namely, love, wisdom and power in fullness
entwined with self-existent will and creativity
these five fold aspects or limbs of beingness
may be likened to growth of the true Self
which though is inseparable from God
is as yet but a receptor, not a transmitter
so to learn and grow, living light descends
into this harsh earth realm with memory erased
that the trance like state enables It to bleed
upon attaining a certain level of maturity
the embryo begins to ask, ‘who am I?’
thus exiting both space and time in meditation
while in the waking state it connects with itself
astonished to behold Self resplendent with light
thus in truth nothing is attained when truth is known
all that happens is that false ego is instrumentalised
thoughts rested and employed only when needed
for the rest of the time Self dwells in bliss mists
bliss being the dualistic component of peace
wherein one that became two becomes one again
thus when asked: who am I
we answer: there is no one here