Long Mindfulness Poems
Long Mindfulness Poems. Below are the most popular long Mindfulness by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mindfulness poems by poem length and keyword.
“since thoughts speak in past tenses,
drop mind, rely on senses,
embracing and releasing,
pain pangs and pleasure pleasing” ~ Unseeking Seeker
The sun
w a n e s into the saline swell,
and the ether
undresses corseted ruminations,
while heart follows formless flames
illuminated with flares of
frankincense forgiveness
as mind replays recurring regrets
like vinyls~
spinning forlorn runes
laced with fallacious fragments,
clouding the intricate cycle of lunar~
intuitions with illusive riddles,
drifting into the eventide of agony…
So I drink and I dine
from the hyacinth hands of
the golden chalices
brimming with turmeric tranquility,
listening ~ in sync ~
with the soul of sanguine stillness
ricocheting with rustling repose,
erasing cracked crevices
heavy with ache
from soft smears of monarch-bliss strokes,
spilling picturesque pigments of peace
from Mona Lisa musings
to veil visions of vanity,
to mask mirrors of melancholy,
to soften scarlet streaks of sorrow…
Tonight I close the portals
of perplexed perceptions,
unlocking the crown chakra
like forgotten forests
glowing with faith and fireflies,
allowing stars to glaze
my inner psyche
with dusts of glistening gratitude,
fine-tuning the symphony of Kundalini
to musical mists of mindfulness,
cloaked in
crystalline clovers of clarity~
like an awakened fairy
flipping leaves of lotus love,
pausing the pulse of pain
beneath an empyrean embellished
with spiritual elixirs,
detached from darkness,
clinging neither to
the seraphic scriptures
nor the egoistic galaxies,
sprinkling superficial sparkles
of material mantras.
As enlightened ink r e m a i n s
reliving ~ sewn into the
seams of sacredness
like endless rivers rippling with
opalescent quiescence…
O divine almighty,
I vow to sow herbs of harmony,
engrossed in the timeless phase
of rose-wine twilight~
untangling twisted tulips
intertwined with
weathered willows.
As I seek nothing but lucid light,
soaked in petrichor musings,
resting in zealous zenith,
for I am a rhymeless disciple
accepting the reality
that kissed the silk of silhouette
amidst rain and warmth~
the celestial peaks of change.
I taste flavors of kismet,
swallowing spices of lament,
comfortably composed
in the mystical essence
of soundless rhythm…
Riding a roller coaster
Propelled by life’s velocity
Governed by instincts and thought
Driven by an urge to emerge victorious
Sentience deadened to conscience
Flitting thus from desire to desire
We built an imaginary script
Of narrow ego identity
Some conquests won
We saw not unshed tears
Of mute weaker souls wasted
Owing to our callous, feral savagery
Likewise, we encountered defeat
Whereupon we steadied heart
Resolving to rise once again
Imagining ego as the doer
Our face in the mirror
Reflected pride and conceit
Beggars too began looking away
Recognising our cold, hard countenance
So it chanced to pass that by grace
One day we chose to look within
Shocked to see soul shrivelled
Lonely in our bleeding heart
We stopped the flow of time
Frozen for what seemed eternity
Crying out silently into the vast void
Wishing to be healed and feel complete
A divine voice instantly responded
Asking if our resolve was strong
To walk the talk as affirmed
In thought, word and deed
The path simple and direct
Liken it to a hop-on hop-off bus
We hop off the ego bus and choose love
Shifting consciousness from head to heart
Voice of conscience grew stronger
We dwelt not on material gain
Shifting into mindfulness
A stillness continuum
Yet love that is imbibed
Takes time for assimilation
But what matters time any more
To the one who has since vaporised
In timeless time ensconced in bliss
Empowered by a magnetic pulse
Which we may give any name
Kundalini or The Holy Spirit
Baptised in the stream
Twice born, we yet lived on
Our soul within, one with oneness
Seeing now earth life as but a lucid dream
Wherein we are being breathed by God
As He does for all sentient life forms
To fulfil our soul’s smallest wish
Now aligned with love alone
Now we do honestly confess
We know not what scriptures say
All we affirm from our life experience
Is that once we align with God’s love impulse
For each step we take, He leaps forward
Gathering us in His warm embrace
Lighting the lamp of love within
Darkness then is no more
20-January-2022
Repent and Believe Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
Poem inspired by the contest prompt: 1 John 1:9 KJV - If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.
"as an entity in the dream we conjured
we know not we are both the dreamer and dreamed
how then may we wake up when we are in trance
in bondage to illusions we ourselves stream" ~ Unseeking Seeker
D r e a m s
when draped by the dreamed,
connected to the inner consciousness,
is a manifestation~
of etched m a g i c,
composing songs of the soul,
tied to the heartbeat of the Universe,
letting awareness be the curator,
no longer a victim of fate,
but rising as the artist that paints~
peace and harmony,
from pristine pigments,
through blissful brushstrokes,
to recreate a landscape of love,
oblivious to the illusions
that veil our visions with vanity,
confining us to caves
of perplexed perspectives,
with hazy hieroglyphics engraved
in superficial gold
from Cleopatra’s jewels.
And I trace lifelines amidst moon-rays,
grasping the luminous light,
laced with enlightened beams,
waking up from lucid lies.
My thoughts have long floated amongst
brushing off salt-soaked blues
that soaked my skin in oceanic mists~
surreal sea-urchins
that whisper manipulative mantras,
anchoring me to an abyss
that floats with nothing but darkness…
I see through the marine mirage,
the truth that no longer
is trapped in euphoric melodies,
luring me to dance and dwell in delusions,
as if I am a victim of my own thoughts.
So I close my eyes,
let my mind wander through electric fields,
designed to resurrect
the sleeping stars adrift
in my veins, lost in material longing,
blind to the seraphic glows
floating through the air~
Tonight, I taste flavors of freedom,
to attain eternal nirvana,
unchained from hypnotic reveries
that dared not unravel
colors of clarity,
and spices of zest and zeal,
engrossed in mindfulness
that emanates candle-lit flames of truth,
illuminating twilight skies
with dreams drawn
from fingertips of f a i t h,
seeking spiritual clues
to conquer cosmic castles,
detached from the deceptive dreams
we’ve spun with greed and apathy…
For we are;
the dreamer and the dreamed,
the lyricist and the lyrics,
the poet and the poem,
the painter and the palette
the musician and the melody.
We rise and soar
across celestial gardens,
absorbed by the light,
silencing conflicting cadence~
within inner chaos,
forever adorned in sanguine stillness.
Beneath the surface of the perceptive mortal senses
the mind nestles the buds of dreams it desires to see bloom.
Allured by avid aspirations into insipid ignorance,
it suffers wandering in the wilderness of discontent.
Under the convoluted layers of the mangled mind
languishes the servile soul at the impervious inner depth,
until enlightenment dawns with the light of the eternal truth,
building with dedicated spirit the holy linkage with the absolute.
Travelling on the enlightened pathway of devout life,
an inward journey to the sacred sanctum of spirituality,
takes the soul to the ultimate destination of liberation,
where realization perceives the meaning of emotions.
The swirling currents of the vagrant mind
find the current course of intuitive introspection
through the layers of consciousness,
dissipate in the shade beneath the divine lamp
that illumines the swathe of the dark acuity.
The soul then shines in the heavenly glow,
reflecting the patina of the perception lotus,
as the self-searching comprehensive odyssey ends
at the sanctified altar of supreme mindfulness.
Distanced from the thought-swamped past
the merger configures awareness in the realm of now.
In the onyx night, the drizzle of argentine stardust,
symbolizing the sequins of sensual epithet
of the vibrant existential melodic essence,
adorns the pearl-laced waves of the rolling psychic sea,
that spreads seamlessly to the baroque emotive shore
though the bay of bliss of the musical mind,
echoing the tune of the soulful symphony.
The rain-washed sparkling sky of the new day,
enwrapped in the chromatic trellis of the rising sun,
spreads the spectrum of corporeal perception,
fabricated by the fascinating sense of the vibrato of life,
weaved as the tapestry of transient feelings
with the lattice of self-drawn imagery of kaleidoscopic now.
The congenial current of contemporary time,
defused in the miasma of the marooned mind,
turns the indented poignant impulses
into lyrical crescendo of consciousness concerto.
On its sonorous serenading wings,
the awakened awareness flies in the sky of sensual sonata
to the harmonic realm of euphoria,
realizes the nicety of the unequivocal notion
that life is a song to be sung in now continuum.
Tired one day of work and its toil, I went home to recover, or recharge my batteries as my friends would say. As I gathered my thoughts after doing my usual after chores, I sat and listened to music, as I often do. It seems to work for me as a Mindfulness technique. As I listened, I wondered what it would be like to have a conversation with my soul. We all hear, read about it and it's importance, to our being in the here and hereafter, yet we k now nothing of its real entity, consistence, base and its contributions to our present makeup as a human here and now. Who breaks the ice? With what? A joke, a memory? A right or wrong done to someone? Can we even have a dialogue that's meaningful, potential? I would want to know what my soul thinks of me? All the things I've done to myself and to others. How does that track to my end? Is there a defining criteria to one's soulful viability/outcome to its human end? How are, or are they, the positives/negatives/neutrals weighed? Accountability for ones actions, blatant or sublime, inert or etheral, candid or insipid? There can be no invisibility of measurable actions or a common denial of blame, stupidity, inaction, ignorance incongruent to a human's capacity to be universal with one another in all scopes of living/dying regardless of anything we hold as a norm. I would like the soul to tell me what it thinks of me, who I am, have become, lived, given hope,helped without reward, missed, been selfish, denied, hurt, a full record of my deeds, and then some. Why I feel the way I do in any given second of my life and what it means? Will I ever know any of the answers we strive to know which we think will make us better in the long run? Can I recapture, make restitution for past wrongs? Fix current/past ills of my being? "What do I want", you ask. If I am Wise to all, I can be Forgiving to all, If I am Empathetic to all, I can be Compassionate to all. If all I do, say and be is with truth and meaning, then I am a real being of the soul with an omnipresent intent, from all that I am within to all those that I meet without. We are then combined into one vast inclusive entity here, now and forever. "Present realities, Finite dreams, annoint Universal hopes, keeping them alive and well in any human scope of eternity". The soul rests--for now.
I believe that poetry is and of is was were have has been of as one pretenses a
poetic practical pompous, pro (p) ransomedramatical postenses
pretending to prose promise a
predictive premise primatory practicum politicallty
polishing practcoriam process of primary
preliminary postures pragmatic promulgates
telling the ta ta tumultuous tillo tales of tawdry
banal blog lists calling me to quali-quantify the reso-resolutes
resounding in resilient quo quotients that bear a
breach bridgeborn badge billed
barometer bearing broad billboard
catatonic catashrospies creating caustic crill
coffinistic coiffures canonizing
socio unsettling leo linguistic lies in a somewhat
lovevoid livid liquiditoria regal
ransom based regalia resonating
rawbone residual retinal real time
tombosoties transitioning with
toying transient trio tide tooth
crass cavity craino creep mandibulo master mildew
mold molecular mamsy-pamsy sillopsuedo master of
ever me present I , me , mine, maestro
sitting back and looking at the world as a place to be
not to be, hope to be, wish to be, be to be, in the
proper primer of humino yesnomenclatureculture of that which is u
me us our belief sem radical of our prim-ordeal sociodiscontentselfevident
irrelevant mean fullness, to countercure our quick/quack quotient
umbrella upbringing to say do write feel text tank athink
all that is emo exit everpresent to keep the fecal faces free of
founding father status inquo man although time is time in place.
Mindfulness is a mute place ill unattended by sociocrap everlasting.
Treasure travel inviting innate needs netherly nodding to the primo positive
practitudes of acoustic ancillary annotated awareness, allowing all annuities
ancient archaic to willfully wind wind waveringly wish away intrinsic id-ideas.
It it is what u want it it to be, say, scroll, live, plural, self to self. Use it, lose it,
share it, beware it, con-cure it, it. Know it it's criminal capitol is wary for before
u know it it, life it before it its u, and will its it and
ego ale all eek out the precious profit of its itdom idiocracy illusionary in its
illogical inness so mad made as not to gravely gravitate ungracious griefs
upon your its it.
scary huh. Karma it, Big Daddy.
“we look for that light eternal
that does not come and go
the screen upon which life plays
cognised in staid stillness slow” ~ Unseeking Seeker
I flow like silken ripples
through mirrored lakes,
a lotus sprouting from
mountain streams,
soaked in the saffron
warmth of summer’s flare,
jeweled in citrine pearls of purity.
Awaiting galaxies of clarity
to unveil an emerald estuary,
streaming in sizzling serenity,
oblivious to the searing strings
of fickle tethers pulling
this delicate psyche
toward an abyss filled
with superficial scraps,
fragmented dreams,
and empty conch shells,
tearing my fragile skin
with splinters and sea glass,
reflecting the inflated ego
of a wanderer adrift
amidst ferocious tides.
O sacred skies,
adorned with starry scars,
I’ve long searched in vain
through a salt-soaked
cave of confusion
for twirling diamonds
and fragrant fireworks
to grant me an eternal
haven of celestial calligraphy
carved in halcyon ink,
unaware of the silver flecks
sparkling deep within my soul.
Must I forever be lost,
like languid leaves
pressed between chapters
of seasonal souvenirs,
or should I rise like
a mythical bird,
engrossed in golden musings,
a tameless seeker
of zestful zephyrs?
I am softened
streaks of twilight,
breathing ethereal dust,
while dancing to
the swirling silhouettes
above cosmic candles,
illuminating the orchid
orchard of consciousness,
as this heart beats to
the blissful rhythm
of an untouched breeze,
curating magnetic alchemy,
to harmonize inner music
in mellifluous mindfulness.
I am the light that
lights all the lights,
the undying glow
within supernova lanterns.
I am the artist
painting my own paradise,
immersed in topaz tunes
of an Elysian empire,
where divine scriptures
of the Almighty
conduct a choir
of continuous compassion.
So let the gates of your gaze
rest in singing silence,
listen to the unspoken reality,
echoing like tranquil rhymes
within a sonnet etched from
mystical moonbeams,
for between these lines~
floats the lunar wings,
manifesting a rosier awakening,
as my faith is the conqueror
of crystalline constellations,
forever basking in the euphoric glory
of tulsi dawn.
I’d like too invite all to be my guest
a dine of mindfulness and rhyme digest
a week of conflict now victory blessed
standing united to silence a pest
Since the last time you heard from me I was banned again
ran my mouth and pen and stand condemned
taking a time out as the site suspended
yet always polite to poets I’ve befriended
In my lifetime of few consistences
a sucker for trouble
not designed for resistance
never stuck in a bubble
don’t run nor crumble
my back’s up I stand tall
I’m one for the rumble
not decided but natural
I’m an alpha with a non fictional reaction
I can’t stray from friction I give it back to ‘em
They flint
I flame
retardants
don’t reign
Even with intense insistence I’m risky
back and forth witty hits get me frisky
I’m Jack Daniels confrontation’s whiskey
and as it ascends force
whistling me wolf
I submit my thoughts
with all above board
but as the war gets me bored
within my core recycled and restored
enemy amo pours out below par
firing missiles I go to far
through lost remorse
this one track horse
gallops the course
with overwhelming force
only to fail care and I fall where I fell before
Standing up squarely
Cus nobody scares me
then punished unfairly
cus I ain’t no fairy
Deemed out of line
as I mouth my mind
blow for blow with swines
or write down rhymes
I’ve got one finger for sign language
knowing 5 fold in flight damage
You’re not the first to run me down
I’m not one to get the boys around
“I know a lot of people” not my threat
get me vexed I come direct
Others rely on their made up crew
not me though mate I come straight for you
One minute you’re coming calling me chump
the next minute running Forest Gump
I’ve never experienced intimidated slumps
the altercation ignition leads me to jump
start the motor ticks, over being a victim
insults thrown deflect don’t sink in
get thrown back with hurt inflicting
stand his ground does Nick Trim
Will call us HMS Victory and him the birds eye on a French deck,
one cannon ball later he’s drenched in a shipwreck
So thanks to the soupers standing with me,
the victory with us not he,
again I say soupers standing with me
are the ones standing victoriously
Many British Thermal Units needed...
To heat these lovely bag of bones
more so than required to generate clones
aging musculoskeletal physique groans
kvetching synonymous nsync with exactly
indistinguishable among where generic
garden variety alter kocker and/or like
mummified Pharaoh moans.
Hence, I will beg, borrow or steal,
as profound philosophical thinker
oh no... no... no, this
non smoking bandit, nor drinker
will explain to police officer,
that me willingly doth plead
guilty as freshly showered stinker
without spectacles yours truly
can only blinker
if nabbed do time inside
state of the art clinker,
where ample heat warms hoodwinker
covering mine rickety musculoskeletal,
while escorted to attend requisite
appointment with headshrinker.
Token Doubting Thomas here
resorts to life of
petty crime without fanfare
for this common man
dirt poor bloke who doth air
(not that anybody
will rat's a$$, nor care
a jot regarding me
squalid financial welfare),
but analogous to Scrooge
grossly dislikes Xmas time of year
not always the case, cuz as lad din
Southeastern Montgomery County
one cute little boy with
short cropped hair,
(a 'curse unbiased
opinion), aye declare
Santa Claus and shopping amidst
madding crowd no living nightmare
like today December eighteenth
tooth how sinned nineteen
bajillion people angrily glare
with livid rage expect
whistleblowing thru air
courtesy bull-let-in aiming crosshair,
whereat vendors pushing merchandise
hooping he/she can scare
up brisk business, hence
caveat emptor i.e. buyer beware
aside from aforementioned
hypothetical scenario - won't ever
occur within glorious land
of bilk and money
America, the home of the free..., where
distribution of wealth very unfair.
Yukon still enjoy of beauty,
this po' witless can bet
dollars to donuts without
spending yourself silly
garnering mountain due of debt
subsequently weeping
(think guitar coming
unstrung at every fret),
thus... ya gotta get get
aware simple pleasures
experience mindfulness, such as
zipping across globe on private jet
hobnobbing with rich and famous,
then swing by utmost secluded un convent
chin null monastery, and meet...
nun other than one cell bated abbott.
Placed Second in :
Sanctuary, Soft, Stir, Surreal Words Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
"Remember, the entrance door to the sanctuary is inside you.” Rumi
Sanctuary
In the depth of my inner self
Lies a small secret sanctuary
Carpeted with a greenish lawn,
Bordered with lilacs and roses,
Sprinkled with saffron marigolds
And berthed with leafy mango trees;
It is a secret sanctuary
Where colourful birds of my dream
Filled with joy, hop from branch to branch
And scan the blue sky as a team,
Singing sizzling songs in a trance
To vie with the whispering winds.
I retire to the sanctuary
To sow the seeds of mindfulness,
Water the shoots and rising buds
That will soon give birth to flowers
To embellish the sanctuary
And perfuse it with their perfume.
I retire to the sanctuary
To meet with zeal my longing muse,
To beseech her inspiring light
That I may carve some divine hymns
And offer them at the Lord`s shrine
As a humble token of mine.
I retire to the sanctuary
To retrieve hymns aligned on shelves,
Brush out the tangled spiders` webs
Endow them with gems of beauty
And breathe freshened air unto them
That they may soar in time and space.