Long Mantra Poems
Long Mantra Poems. Below are the most popular long Mantra by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mantra poems by poem length and keyword.
I’ve been married for some twenty years
And sometimes I make my wife cry.
Now I have a mantra when I bring her to tears;
“I’m wrong; I’m scum; I deserve to die.”
It doesn’t matter if I am right or wrong;
I don’t even need to know why.
When it goes too far, I sing my song;
“I’m wrong; I’m scum; I deserve to die.”
It’s not that I don’t argue or plead my case;
It’s not that I’m a wimpy guy,
But when she starts to wear that hurt face;
“I’m wrong; I’m scum; I deserve to die.”
It’s my way of ending a useless fight,
To achieve that, there’s nothing I won’t try.
Never go to bed being angry at night;
“I’m wrong; I’m scum; I deserve to die”.
So, if you want some advice from a happily married man,
The next time you make your lover cry
Look her in the eye and say, while holding her hand,
“I’m wrong; I’m scum; I deserve to die.”
Line of inquiry:
“to veil light we cloaked it in bliss
then intellect and lower mind
fused together as magnetism
in form where truth we seek to find”
Moral conscience flowing in the channel of time
drives the cognitive righteous urges to vent
in the surge of desires loaded with self-grime
through the dimness of wrapped enlightenment.
In the vacuity of the inner space
the pulse of time vibrates with the vanity of ego,
matching the rhythm of the conceited cadence
with the elusive intonation of eternity.
I invent the free-will tenets shaping the ego
in the realm of fantasized self-deception.
I traverse the slimy ground of cardinal muddle
searching for the light of intellect illumining the soul,
I travel unshackled out of the abyss of despair
on the inward journey through the epiphany layers,
perceive in the soul the flush of heavenly beacon,
lighting the corridor to the divine abode.
There I disrobe the ego shaped by complex equation
of existence to understand the meaning of life
in the scale of soul’s quotient of spiritual wisdom
when the portal opens to the sanctum of profound bliss.
On the seraphic shore of the transcendent soul,
the supreme designer makes the inner circuitry
of the innate magnetism of divine beauty,
mingles the concentrates of candid consciousness.
I am then the immutable hymn of the sanctified soul,
echo the harmonic awareness of truth.
The devout mantra intoned in the temple of my heart,
resonates with the spiritual symphony of sacred spirit.
Notes:
1. This simple poem works like a mantra.
2. Each stanza has 3 words in 3 lines.
3. Each stanza can be used to catapult your
feelings, and jumpstart your feeling-thinking
mind bridge.
4. All you need to do is to select a stanza that
appeals to you.
5. Just read the 3 words for 3 times, aloud to
yourself.
6. Then close your eyes and say the words out
loud, slowly and deliberately -- for 3 times.
7. Once again, read the 3 words for 3 times, aloud to
yourself.
8. Your mind will conjure visions or ideas that will
help you unleash your own insights.
9. You can use these stanzas as a writing prompt
to channel your own creative impulses in a
spontaneous way.
10. Relax. Have fun. Let your inner guidance speak.
Your poetic impulse will emerge without needing
to think or strain so hard.
11. Try it and see amazing results. The idea is
feel the images and ideas that come to you. All
you need to do is to write what you feel. Enjoy!)
-------------------------------------------------------
Pulse
Impulse
Contrast
Flow
Glow
Show
Nudge
Touch
Much
Give
Live
Breathe
Look
Book
Nook
See
Free
Be
Lost
Cause
Toss
Line
Fine
Sign
Coast
Boast
Toast
Live
Love
Laugh
Space
Place
Face
Time
Chime
Rhyme
Tell
Spell
Dwell
Truth
Proof
Groove
Taste
Haste
Waste
Ploy
Toy
Joy
Learn
Earn
Yearn
Aspire
Inspire
Conspire
Conceive
Believe
Achieve
More
Pore
Explore
Mind
Find
Grind
Piece
Ease
Peace
Fear
Tear
Dear
Birth
Worth
Mirth
Sense
Tense
Hence
Mine
Line
Fine
Ready
Easy
Crazy
Zest
Test
Best
Real
Zeal
Feel
Mind
Kind
Find
Leon Enriquez
25 Apr 2014
Singapore
silence..........d .....shhhhhhh,
a violence ,on the truth and its seekers.
lips sealed,ears cut and eyes shut.
Lies and deceit roars so loud,
cuts so deep into the heart,
bleeding honesty/virtue to slow death.
So tall ,straight and alone it stands,with its
ugly face,being smeared and pelted
with stones,
there is a beauty in it,only if you could see.
Blood drips drop by drop,by the tick of
the clock,of who?
One who sticks to morality.
Passes carefully through the crevices of
the walls of falsehood,so not to be
crushed under them.
emboldened it with forces so strong,that the
injustice becomes right and the virtuous
becomes a burden,
always a hanging dagger,to slice
in half.
Morality and ethics are for thee
not for me,all about mere preaches
and no actions.
Pretence is the beautiful face
until the veil is lifted,
Corner the truth and kill it who
ever shall say or seek or stand by it,
is the new mantra of sorcerers
of and by the new world.
Embrace a deceit ,will kiss you to success,
slyly taking away your soul.,
showers you with money and praise,
so you shall never see the light
and fight for it.
Who is the perpetrator and whose the victim?
Are we silent or are we silence..........d?
Written on:16/4/2022
The vast array of colored lights illuminated the jovial faces of the youthful teens
As Ms. Durmstrang antiquely waltzed with Mr. Chestwood.
I sat alone as I watched my velvet red date swiftly fly through the crowd,
being swept off her feet from every well-dressed, cordial gentlemen.
The cushioned chair was soft, though.
It provided me with all the comfort and support I needed.
I didn’t care that she left,
I didn’t care that my feeble heart was shattered once again.
So I left.
“She can find her own ride home,” was a mantra of mine on the way to the car.
I sat for awhile.
I don’t know why, but I did.
A strong aroma of roses plagued my nose,
Swelling up from my blood-red boutonniere.
The blood-red boutonniere Valerie deceived me with.
“Why am I crying? I never cry.”
I drove home before my emotions could consume me further,
listening to melodic tunes to calm my inner most concerns.
When I arrived home it was nearly midnight,
and right above me were thousands of stars mocking me with their vibrant glow.
All the stars, nestled in the ambient twilight, sitting, staring.
“Shut up!” I screamed as insanity pumped vigorously through
my veins.
The brown hue of my eyes were flooded with fiery rancor.
I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t take the pressure.
I couldn’t take the cold-heartedness.
I couldn’t take the aching.
I couldn’t take being mocked.
I couldn’t take being, being
Used.
Used for my father’s money,
Used as a punching bag,
Used for my empathetic ways,
Used for my unwavering ability to never say no.
I sat in the dew covered grass, illumed by the pale moonlight,
and as I gazed into the endless eyes of the sky, I became empowered.
Perhaps with my own fear, or eccentric thoughts, but I felt electric.
“No!” I screamed.
“I said no! I will not go to prom with you!
No, I hate football!
No, you cannot punch me!
No, I don’t drink!
No, dad, you cannot hit me!
No, mom, you cannot get wasted tonight!
No, God, you cannot keep me here any longer!
No. No.”
I did it you know.
I stayed true to my word.
I did it.
Rusted Steel,
I said no to life.
Heart racing, his mind struggles
This is now, not then.
Whispers of childhood
Haunt his every step.
This is now, not then.
Flashes of memory roll through his mind
As a gurney oft rolled him through these halls
Or halls just like these, he reminds himself
That was then, not now.
His chest tightened, he strains for each step
Awash in vintage anxiety
He focuses his thousand yard stare.
This is now.
That was then.
The sharp scent of rubbing alcohol
Nurses and surgeons in their scrubs induce
Childhood fear.
He acknowledges the fear
But keeps his eyes ahead.
God this is hard.
His head is swimming now
Nought but his sight
Keeps his balance.
The world is spinning
He can taste the aseptic air.
That was then, this is now.
And the fear remains.
Choking him, stabbing at him
Begging him to run, scream, cry…
Do something.
Again he mutters,
That was then, not now.
General Surgery… check in.
He walks in…
To the recovery room.
A wrong turn, and his knees nearly buckle before he catches himself.
His voice… no…
His father's voice
Sprouts from his throat
Asking directions.
He finds the reception office
Gives his information
Weight. Height. Blood pressure.
(That was then, this is now.)
The terror in his bones ignores the mantra.
He listens to the doctors, the nurses,
Unbelieving.
Walking in a day?
Full recovery in 6 weeks.
He's sure they said that forty years ago
To his parents
And the boy's wounds still haven't healed.
i looked over
into the other
twin bed and
heard not
words but
instead
zzz
zzzz
zz
zzzzz
zz
zzz
but there was
deeper more
meaning then
what was
a snore
but was
because before
it was zzz zzzz
zz zzzzz zz
zzz but clearly
now a different
mantra
zzz zz as
zzz zzz
zz zzz
and in
this it
can
only be said to be
randomnessly put
but with an under
lying tone of
an ocean's
rip tide
stripping my bed
sheets and with
the next ebb and
flow though
tickling my
toes slow
ly taking
my pajama
bottoms off
and with
so you
may
currently
think but
with each
tidal wave
in and then
out has my
p js
around
my ankles
no doubt if
not a sentient
being certainly
sensual but
then the byes
became a slurp
ping sound and
my beach sand
made figure got
washed
away
Form:
In the mirror's gaze, a stranger's face,
A shadow of what's been, a haunting pace.
The weight of my chains, they bear down on me,
A constant reminder of who I've been, and what I'll be.
I was a whisper, a scream in the night,
A voice that's lost, a heart that's cold as stone.
I was a fire, that burned with fierce delight,
Now reduced to ashes, a distant, fading light.
My demons they whisper, "You're not enough",
A mantra I've heard, a truth I've lived.
I'm chasing the ghosts, of the person I was,
But the more I run, the further they get.
In the darkness I hide, my true self concealed,
A fragile facade, a heart that's been revealed.
I'm the architect, of my own demise,
A prisoner of pain, a slave to my own lies.
The lines blur, between what's real and fake,
I'm lost in the haze, of my own mistake.
I'm searching for solace, a place to hide,
From the person I've become, and the life I've lived.
Freedom’s dream dies it seems;
With every fake and phony scheme;
To twist language as to mean;
Something for which it was never deemed.
Ideology and demagoguery make one blind;
So as to fall into hatred’s binds.
Facts and opinion become intertwined;
Causing deception in the human mind.
Look at the fruit harvested by the deceived.
Pregnancy viewed as some kind of disease.
A cancer to be cut out as a woman decrees.
Millions of deaths of the merely conceived!
The right of free speech has been redefined;
By big tech and left-wing media minds;
As only the idea’s that agree with mine.
The rest must get their minds realigned.
The major media mantra of today;
Question not what your superiors say;
For that is hateful in every way!!
Sit down, shut up, and simply obey!
Citizens I now challenge you;
Argue my lines, they be untrue.
But know this; that when you do,
You are waving freedom adieu.
In the live network
of intricate unassailable design,
invisible layer on imperceptible layer,
the latticed mind is stratified.
On spiritual strata the devout strands
align with the innate awareness,
sublime sagacious patterns
of pious perception are unified.
Many existential attributes
of sole distinction gain
access to the sanctum
of the secret psychic recess,
transcend through time undefined
the fading limits of mundane joy and pain,
as fluidized sense merges with the sea
of absolute consciousness.
In my journey within
as an introspective explorer,
I discern the enlightened soul
in the sanctuary of sublimation,
suffusing me in the core
with the supreme essence of divinity.
I get liberated from the dungeon
of the corporeal abyss.
The essential constituents
of captivating charisma
interlaces with the fabric
of consummate sincerity,
finds the ordained adornment
of internal mesmeric beauty,
spreads invisible splendorous film
on repulsive external deception,
removes the distressing doubt
that it can’t be irresistible.
On the seraphic shore
of the transcendent soul,
the supreme designer makes
the destined inner circuitry of ecstasy.
The pattern of piety creates
the innate magnetism of divine beauty,
attracts the concentrate of consciousness
out of the mortal elements
to the emancipating ardent aura
of all encompassing ambiance of bliss.
I am then the immutable hymn
of the sanctified soul,
that echoes in the melodic strata
of harmonic awareness of illumined love.
The devout mantra intoned
in the temple of my heart,
resonates with attractive symphony
of the sacred spirit.
The cosmic creator of the resounding silence
transcending time and space,
makes my awakened soul proclaim
the divine decree, I am He.