Long Buddha Poems

Long Buddha Poems. Below are the most popular long Buddha by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Buddha poems by poem length and keyword.


Combination Poem. My Part. I Havent Added Shanis Yet

Sometimes love just isn’t enough
Art is our way home to finding ourselves
We were blindfolded ballerinas. Swaying to the rhythm of our hearts breaking.  We tippy
toed  across a tight rope, looking for some sort of answer from dangerous lovers, like hope. 
She the tigress and I the poetess brought together by similar circumstance
Oxycontin madness
With men who constantly chased after their addiction.
Placing importance over their next fix over our happiness.
We were resilient, goddesses of patience
Two ships, headed towards the rocky shore, we ignored the guidance of the lighthouse.  We
used our hearts as and emotions to navigate blindly Feeling through the darkness. 
Your mind will always be illuminating, when it is the darkest.
Wearied travellers.... 
Of Love.... and Life. Let the wind carry you through the pain like a kite.
Grab onto your easels like a lifeline. Your paintbrush will be your escape, with each
brush stroke. Simple little joy,  a hug when you need it for your ego 
Art is the essence of self love......so love yourrrrrrrrr self.
Let your soul take a walk,
 Your mind will be your deliverance to freedom,   unlocking the key  to your eternal kingdom. 
Press the paint between your palms, become one with the medium. 
Our poetry is the closet thing to Touching god.
Allah, Buddha, Jesus Christ,  Ishvara, Yahweh, and all the Hindu dieties 
I worship thee  on my KNEES for enlightening me, granting the gift of this serenity
We are the Irises that still flourish after the avalanche

Diamond thick skin Heroines
we write...........................
To set off a bouquet of explosively delicious fireworks, in the creation of our thoughts
Exploding magnificent technicolours into the deep recesses of our minds
Completely liberated from our insecurities
We press our pens together like swords , all for one and one for all
An everlasting oath to protect what we lost
Our artistic Souls
© Laura Hew  Create an image from this poem.
Form:


Forest Dreams



Forest dreams as tender as a whisper 
soft spoken wishes in the penumbra of night 
Divinely assembled beneath a scried heaven 
we live, we breathe, we follow...

The evening plants begin to respire 
and the trees close up for the evening retreat.   
We sit and meditate while the dusk settles in,   
the candles burn surrounding us with light ! 
Woodland scents permeate the humid air 
 black orchid with notes of black truffle, 
patchouli, and vanilla, rum-soaked in black. 
 
We are never lost when we find ourselves 
centered as a Buddha in the thick of light
Tibetan flutes and magical newts by the lake 
each breath we take is an intake of peace 
we are semi-aquatic beings in the wildlife 

Forest  reveries as vivid as lucid dreams of old 
we stay green and pend, until we turn to gold.

The Elephant In the Room Guns

In watching 
the news coverage
Of the rising crime wave

There is one thing missing
Everyone skirts around it
No one wants to deal with it

No one wants to talk about it 
No one wants to do anything else 
The elephant in the room 

GUNS 
GUNS	
 	GUNS 
GUNS 
MORE GUNS 
GUNS FOR EVERYONE
NO LIMITS
NO LICENSE
GO GET A GUN
	
The result
More deaths 

Guns kill people
That is what they 
Are designed to do

That is the Buddha-nature
Of guns after all

So easy to pull the trigger
Blow someone away
Dead people tell no tales

 MUST 
GET 
MY 
GUN 

The elephant in the room
Smiles
The NRA smiles
Their work is done.
© Jake Aller  Create an image from this poem.

More Guns For Everyone

The NRA has decided
?That the best solution to global problem?
Of rampant violence and crime everywhere
Is for the rest of the world?
To become like the U.S.
?Where anyone can buy a gun

?As an armed society 
is a polite society’
And so the President
 is about to announce?
A global campaign 
against gun control restrictions?

As these restrictions
 are an undue burden?
On the rights 
of the US arms manufactures

To sell their guns 
everywhere in the world?
As everyone wants 
what we have to sell?
The best weapons in the world


Instead of trying to limit the damage?
That unrestricted gun sales
?Have done to the U.S.
Our President, 
our great leader?
Wants to sell more guns?
Everywhere in the world

And there are eager buyers
Lining up around the world
?Eager to buy the best guns
?The world has ever seen


We want to export?
The gun madness?
That has infected our society?
Leaving behind 
so many dead bodies

The dead were not consulted?
For they remain dead?
They do not vote?
They have no voice

For the guns silenced
them for good
?just as the guns intended

?Just doing 
their gun thing after all
it is the buddha nature
of guns to kill people

Humanity has evolved?
From stones to arrows?
to biological  chemical weapons, 
guns, missiles and nuclear bombs

And the U.S.
?While proclaiming itself?
A champion of Human Rights

Remains nothing but a country
?Of greedy, powerful corporate gun runners?
Merchants of mass  death

note: this may be too political and in your face but I don't care. I have had enough of this nonsense. We must stop the carnage in our streets! That’s my two cents worth and I am sticking to my guns pun very much intended.
© Jake Aller  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Smudged Ink

Loin cloth draped around his anorexic body the Buddha

Searched for the Middle Way between Nothing and All

Counted his blessings and figs as his thoughts focussed

In meditation for humility compassion and lasting peace

The tree of life’s branches lightened his shadows of doubt

Enticed the suffering of suffering to lead from above


Aristotle escaped from Plato’s cave into the sunshine

Golden Mean on his mind he foraged for balance of virtue

Moderated knowledge with feelings of exploring for wisdom

A tiny window of opportunity between secrecy and honesty

Reckless and cowardice tempting from both incomplete ends

Good humour and absurdity longing for tranquility’s resolution


Carl Gustav Jung took up the reigns drawn by polar opposites

Between living and death in archetypal subconscious conscience

Monumental conflict depicted as complements not contradictions

A seeming paradox of incongruent and existential proportions

Like the jester in Tarot’s antimony of beginning and infinite end

The persona became more than a mere mask or Janus faced challenge


The poet’s stream of consciousness meanwhile flows as ink in his pen

Scratches at the surface quite tense in his hand pointing the quill

Towards investigation and unexceptional essence of lost meaning

Guided by the inner Self and nemesis of turmoil and equilibrium


19th January 2020
Form: Persona


Premium Member Take Me To Nirvana

Siddhartha, a young prince, with earthly life unsatisfied,
Left the palatial joys seeking enlightenment, worldwide.
Meditating in wild woods for long, he got his mind trained;
From Bodhi tree he walked toward the world, wisdom gained...! 

Life is full of pains, he said, caused by ignorant desires,
Detachment to mundane things would ignite divine fires. 
Right view, intention, effort, speech, action and livelihood,
With concentration on conscience each must live as they should...!

Extinguishing the birth-death course of human existence,
Buddha adopted Nirvana, whose path of consistence,
Intermingled in pathways of Hinduism and Jainism,
Made his faith of life, which, later came to be the Buddhism...!

Nirvana is peace; absolute happiness; endless joy; 
No birth, death or judgment for one, after this, to annoy;
It's like the fire extinguished getting mixed with the air,
Or like rivers released the motherly sea's waters share...! 

Experiencing eternal bliss I'll stay; take me there.
The obstacle arising on my-way, I'll gladly bear. 
Beyond hatred, ignorance and illusion may I go,
That reaching the goal of life, my fulfillment will aglow...!


08 September 2022
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member The Middle Path of Buddha

.

          Down
     To his bare
  Bones. He was
A walking skeleton
Weeks before
  He became 
    BUDDHA 
       GYANI 
                       Under a tree 
                         He rested his 
                           frail body like
                            A ghost spirit

                   A queen use  to worship that tree
                She would light  a lamp to the spirit
              She wanted a son.  She was Sujata

       A frail man under that very tree
    Skeletal, was noticed by  her maid
  Ladies thought it was the  spirit God 
 Sujata with her maid went  upto him
She must have lit a lamp   as a ritual
She also offered some   cooked food
                                      A rice pudding 
                             cooked in milk- Kheer
                         Food it was
                    Along with that
                  Sujata murmured
                 Her immortal words  -
                “Stretch not the strings
                   Of the Veena that they  may snap;
                       If they are kept loose;
                           You can not play your  song”.
The penultimate stop   on the path of Buddha
It was an event that made  the man A Gyani
Love, foundation of Buddha’s ‘ Middle Path’

       All of his life and even in his passing 
  Buddha never separated from Sujata 
.
Form: Concrete

Premium Member Sin

Going strictly by the scriptures 
We are told we have sinned long ago
Thus, fallen status is this feeble caricature

Maya indeed veils the truth but our heart is aglow
Head and heart aligned, we are free from strife
Once attachments recede, life flow is mellow

Sermons of preachers cut us like a knife
Designed to burden us with superstitious guilt
For our sin, Jesus gave up his life, Buddha his wife

It seems impossible that this is the house God has built
Anchoring our attention in spasms of contraction
Delusion that we have sinned making us wilt

Our innate nature is joyous bliss elation 
The only sin we see is with love misalignment 
Owing to indulgence in illusion causing stagnation

Let us unshackle consciousness from feral sediment
Reclaiming by free will our childlike innocence 
Flowing then through life in contentment 

God is truth! God is love! He asks for no penance
We are free! We are as He! Being of self-luminescence 

27-April-2021
sin

Premium Member Nelumbo Nucifera

he was sick of the racing stripes on his automobiles

a modern-day Buddha in his garage full of himself

and vintage cars of classical acclaim and chrome

had become nauseous at the mere site of his Lotus

decided to live like the monk who sold his Ferrari


ascetic instead he would attempt to move mountains

traded his bicycle for begging bowl and orange robe

roamed the streets like a vagrant off his or her trolley

eventually sold his puncture kit for a can full of petrol

and considered his enlightenment by self-immolation


the service station attendant had other plans however

a beautiful woman with olive tanned skin and a bindi

‘you don’t have to emulate Siddhartha to find the path of

the third way between all or nothing greed and starvation’

she whispered and gave him a lotus flower from her heart
 


29th December 2020

Nelumbo nucifera is the botanical name of the lotus

Imagin All the Poeple

Another generation of himself
unzipped his soul like a banana,
stepping instantly
into another dimension of
the same dream.

Never died - never born,
it was an implanted imaginary life,
knowing this, was of course
as useless as a map of the sky.

The only thing not imaginary
was the emanation of God
looking from human eyes.

For a brief moment he thought:
"If I am alive, I must have been dead
or else how could I know I am
alive now?

Nothing had really changed,
he was still 75 years from the grave,
also, a lifetime nearer to
the next womb.

It came upon him
that his liking for chocolate ice-cream
had abruptly become
an insatiable desire
for strawberry vanilla.

Upon a stone plinth
an inanimate frog
flickered,
as once more
it changed into a stone
Buddha.

"Nirvana is that close!"
Hollered a ruby-cheeked Cherub
speeding past
on its tricycle.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace