Long Mysticism Poems
Long Mysticism Poems. Below are the most popular long Mysticism by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mysticism poems by poem length and keyword.
I've been listening to your eyes
And I heard of them recounting
A past life connected to an afterlife
Filled with love and passion
As they drown and succumb to the beauty
Of mysticism as it sparkles with the mystery of existence
I've been listening to your eyes
And in their poetic serenades
I felt your longing to merge with my fate
As you thirst for the divine as intensely
As I do and you can see, surrounding me,
A garden which never gets hit by lightning!
I've been listening to your eyes
And I've started to wonder
At how I could have been deaf all this time?
Was I following the instructions from the skies?
Or was I merely deluded, thinking that I am in an
Evergreen valley while it was just a photo stuck on a wall?
I've been listening to your eyes as
They glimmer with unspoken words which yearn to be said
I can see in them a million moons lighting up my dark confinement
I can see in them a hidden sanctuary which has not been explored yet
I can see in them, the contented smile of the Gods as they feel comforted
And this comfort gets transmitted to my heart
As it flows from your eyes into the lines of my secret diary!
socialism communism fascism despotism
buddhism catholicism hinduism zoroastrianism
territorialism colonialism imperialism expansionism
positivism relativism behaviorism existentialism
adventurism escapism negativism nihilism
puritanism fanaticism extremism terrorism
sexism chauvinism ultra-nationalism jingoism
hedonism epicureanism ~ stoicism asceticism
patriotism heroism altruism idealism
activism idealism individualism exceptionalism
atheism deism monotheism paganism
optimism pessimism cynicism romanticism
atheism secularism humanism utopianism
hypnotism mysticism exorcism surrealism
~ and what if there were a schism in each and every 'ism!'
Why should
or would
or could authority of competing violent colonizing pasts
outweigh responsibility for our cooperative co-arising futures?
People with disabling histories
seem to be more honest,
transparent,
to speak thirsty truth
to disintegrities of egocentric abilities
practiced to disempower others,
stalking chronic vulnerability to WinLose ZeroSum enculturation.
Sometimes candid integrity,
honesty,
if not dismissed as pie in sky mysticism,
ignored as a not fully developed fool's errand,
denies BusinessAsUsual WinLose ecopolitical camouflage,
Mendacity hidden behind stalking
competing white lies don't publicly or privately matter
as much as white male privileged
Western historical enculturation capacities
control
colonizing toward SuperElite
stalking LeftBrain-languaged
deductive/reductive supremacy
Stalking privileges over heart-mind RightBrain disabilities
retaining newborn faith
about our shared abilities
to love all Sacred EarthTribe
With a love preferring non-violent revolutions
working around
and through
and against further patriarchal dominant evolutions,
devolutions stalking remaining undervalued pockets,
populations
nature/spirit populace
resilient residents
of health/wealth co-resonant integrity,
humane/divine trans-physical
omnipresent ability
to love future/past fully
Committed to climate health/wealth,
inside egos and outside ecological poly-theologies
Truth within BeautyGrace
Why should
or would
or could authority of competing violent competing missionary pasts
outweigh responsibility for our cooperative co-arising
secular/sacred
physical/metaphysical
outside/inside
healthy/wealthy
eco/ego-
futures?
The raven is not without talent
their intelligence is highly developed
With beauty in blue-black plumage
or green-black sheen
It flies with skill
on steep and high mountain slopes
for everybody to admire
The raven symbolizes magic and mysticism
Black birds have always been
regarded as companions of witches,
evil and death
- with understanding eyes
the game of chess has long since ended
Cottage by whistling river beautiful, cozy and warm
Wreathed by Mother Earth in her seasons’ natural charm
Drenched in rain or covered in blanket of snow
Disappeared in fog or shimmering in morning glow
Bursting with bubbly stream’s harmonious melodies
Worshiped in mysticism of surrounding shrubs and trees
Through Damp curvy roads of mountains and valleys,
Woodlands of evergreen firs and pines
Through veils of fog drawn by shivering rains,
Misty clouds lingering on mountain range
While enjoying views of icy snow patches
And sprinkles of waterfalls’ dancing droplets
While admiring loveliness of graceful pebbly river
Through traffic flow of several big and small vehicles
Come to cottage spiraling through serpentine pathway
Bowing to tall, robust guarding firs on the way
Captivated by elegance of snow covered land
Hypnotized by incessantly flowing brook’s symphonic band
By forgetting all five senses, be one with nature
Like tranquil rocks in river…
Why do you sleep,
Asked to me
The gurgling river waters?
Can't you see how beautiful
Is the sky and how fresh are
The surroundings?
Can't you feel how thrilling
Is the breeze that caresses
Your skin in the depth of the night?
Why do you sleep,
Echoed the mountains, the ferns,
The leaves, the flowers,
The valleys, the rocks and even
The entire cosmos?
Why do you sleep
When existing is a grandiose gift,
Given only to a handful?
And I, ever so serene,
Looked at them all with a smile
And said,
What else can I do when the
God that rules over my heart
Dwells somewhere so far away
That He allows me to cross the bridge
That separates me from Him only when I sleep?
What else can I do when it is only when I am
In my dream state
That He whispers to me
More mysticism, which are my shields,
The weapon which not only allows me
To swim in lakes filled with snakes
But which also
Allows me to be merciful to those
Who are less lucky than me!
Pray, tell me,
What else can I do
In a world whose waking state
Is itself lived like a dream?
Why, let me sleep,
Someday, I shall wake up
To a new dawn laden with spiritual
And fundamental duties!
Meer Bai (1498-1546) was a Hindu mystic, musician, poet, and saint. She was born to a royal house, but gave up all privilege to live as a beggar, singing of her true love Krishna along the byways and in the marketplace. I have adapted two of her poems, striving as best I might to capture my sense of her person and persona.
I.
I want you to have all that I can provide:
The beauty of my gaze upon you
The grace of my mouth that praises you
The splendor of my strength in your defense
The glory of the scent of musk that is my body
For do we not speak of divine love?
We do.
II.
Never let it be forgotten, my love,
That I will bring to you
All the madness you require
To unfurl yourself
Across this universe.
These women are too powerful the men said.
They were horrified and shocked by the might of the women.
Let's write faerie tales and make the women the villains.
Let's make fun of their beliefs, and strip them of their power.
The women were in the throes of meditating; they had no worries.
To no one do harm was their motto; they trusted the universe.
The cosmos would bring them what they needed.
They did not spent time worrying about the naysayers.
There was no anger or fear in the hearts of the women.
They were led by their soul paths, no better truth.
Mysticism is alive and well; no magic, only empathic psychic wisdom.
We call these women Wiccans, and they uplift and bring joy.
Love,
If I tell you I have a secret to disclose to you,
Would you lend me your ears,
Your heart, your soul even
And your belief in the power that rules us?
Love,
If I tell you that secret which has been whispered
To me, in the depths of the night
In a dream
When the mysticism that surrounds us
Dance in frenzy, mesmerized by its power,
Would you believe me,
And would you act according to their words?
Love,
It has been gnawing me since a year,
The secret paves the way to have our souls saved
From the murky waters of this swampy land!
It has been on my heart,
In the silence of my gaze,
Behind my uncaring attitude,
Behind my submission to you as well!
Love, mind you,
I love you not merely because of that secret,
I loved you even before the secret was whispered to me
Your voice moved my soothing river bed into a raging flooding one
Your presence awakened my feminine roars
Your stature had me, instinctively, raising up my walls,
As I merely wanted to protect my purity
Which I had offered to the skies
And which they had accepted!
But Love,
They had revealed secrets to me, and now
The Gods wish it that I reveal them to you
As, you remain, in fate's will,
My hero, my God, my lover, my prince, my romeo!
And because, the secret concerns you as well!
Pray, Love,
The story that binds us
Defies human perception,
My shaky voice had always prefered to let itself remain
Encaged in its hidden chest,
As it fears,
Your reactions pertaining to our secret!
14th April 2019
It was another caramel summer day
melting all the furniture
and dripping from every memory.
It was the high noon shadowless roadway
sweltering stillness of burning tar
and glutinous in scorching injury.
There was the sky of permanent porcelain,
a cloudless azure ceiling
of blistering sun.
All retention or anticipation,
the spacetime continuum
vanished, vanquished
by unrelenting summer day.