Long Pilgrimage Poems
Long Pilgrimage Poems. Below are the most popular long Pilgrimage by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pilgrimage poems by poem length and keyword.
O search not for a rare applause,
Beware, life is a thankless stage—
It's vain, a loud uproar to cause
On this voyage of pilgrimage,
A puppet you are, caught in cage.
Vain to think you’re a great actor,
You know the plot, nor script nor end,
Watch out, Fate’s a poor director,
As clown, no great role shall ye land,
As puppet, pulled by unknown hand.
________________________________
Musings | 05.09.2015| Quintain
Poet’s note: We might think we are great actors, while in truth we are no more than clowns in the eyes of a spoilsport called Fate, Fortune, or Destiny. Man is then no more than a clown who hopes to hear applause on life’s stage that proves a vague hope, a mirage. For, life offers no programme; the director of the stage-play gives no script; the destiny provides no prompt. And still, he must perform in hope for an applause that seldom materializes.
There's a path that winds its way, through shadows dark and deep,
A journey of solitude, where none can creep.
No companion can walk alongside, no hand to hold or guide,
A solitary voyage, where body and soul must divide.
Unlike life's vibrant roads, where laughter echoes free,
Where friends and loved ones stroll, in joyous company.
This journey's different, a lone pilgrimage, devoid of sound,
Where footsteps fade into silence, and hearts are left unbound.
The most poignant sorrow, is the disconnection's pain,
No words can bridge the gap, no visits can remain.
When one departs, they're gone, without a tomorrow's light,
Leaving memories to whisper, in the darkness of endless night.
In this lonely passage, we're left to face our fears,
With only shadows as companions, and tears that dry through the years.
No laughter echoes back, no smiles to warm the way,
Just the weight of final goodbyes, in the fading light of day.
Yet, in this solitude, we're forced to confront our soul,
To find the strength within, to make our hearts whole.
For though the journey's lonely, it's also a chance to grow,
To find the peace that lies within, and let our spirits glow.
Author Dana Redricks
September 20, 2023
In the realm of dreams, where ambitions ignite,
I choose to live, to bask in life's sacred light. With fervor, I yearn to spread my wings and fly, to soar beyond horizons, reaching for the sky.
Destined to succeed, to embrace the best of me,
I strive for greatness, transforming into what I can be. For within the confines of society's narrow mold,
I find solace in breaking free, becoming bold.
I refuse to be a mere reflection of another's gaze,
to mimic masks of semblance in life's fervent maze. Unique and unrestrained, I pledge to be,
A version of myself that no one else can see.
Above the clouds, on ethereal paths, I'll tread,
Far away from the tears, fears, and pain we dread.
Seeking a land where freedom blossoms and thrives, on wings unfurled, I yearn to reach where liberty survives.
To a journey uncharted, where no soul has strayed,
Eager to taste, feel, and perceive, I am not afraid.
A pilgrimage to the Lady who guards our dreams,
To witness her magnificence, as her presence gleams.
Majestic and proud, she stands tall and strong, a beacon of hope, a voice for the silenced throng. In her embrace, I'll find the courage to be, all that I desire, all that I aspire to see.
So, I choose to live, to spread my wings so wide,
To seek the skies where dreams can no longer hide.
And if ever I find myself lost in the unknown, I'll remember my purpose, and I'll find my way home.
I marvel how touch touches deepest chord,
That rest of senses scarce can ever match,
Time heals old wounds, touch stays on for long stored,
And leaves a sign, a lasting mark to etch,
I marvel how touch deep feelings does fetch.
Take the feel of mother's hand on forehead,
A garland of hug never going cold,
The feelings linger as if lifelong made —
Say of a first-born in father's arm-fold,
I marvel how touch retains its rare gold.
A touch is no feel of a naked skin,
Nor yet is it beastly in her raw rage,
It springs from emotions welling within,
The spirit as if on a pilgrimage,
I marvel how touch reaches no old age.
Touch is no friend to a feel-not inert,
As no melody bestirs a mute soul,
Touch touches heart, a feather can cause hurt,
Mere hand on a shoulder can hit the goal,
I marvel how touch plays its given role.
A grave error, a grown-ups' touch if gross,
A touch of flesh soothes or be great sin—
Intent alone holds up a Sacred Cross,
One knows if touch is malignant and mean,
Yet, marvel how touch stays forever green.
It’s nigh but same— a man embracing wife,
Or in fond love, his daughter or sister,
Intention be the edge as if of knife,
Head causes a hornet’s nest to bestir,
And marvel how touch should so much matter.
Should I feel down and out in life ahead,
I need floral fragrance nor rich blossom,
Nor have I use for a thousand words said,
Give me a tender hug, a warm bosom,
To marvel how touch may deep set chords strum.
If no more than a bare touch can suffice,
Wary I am of an invading face,
A touch can be warm, colder else than ice,
Unwanted foothold in my private space,
I marvel how touch can command such grace.
Rain clouds in hot summer and bright rainbows,
A soulful melody, smile of a child,
Butterflies on flowers in vast meadows,
They touch my inner soul ever so mild,
Yet marvel how touch can be so defiled.
________________________________________
Quintain (Musings) |02.09.2007| touch
Don't worry about tomorrow, its shroud of uncertainty,
For life's tapestry is woven, with threads of ebony and glee.
Today's tempests may rage, and trials may beset,
But dawn's light brings respite, and a new day's promise met.
Your plans, like autumn leaves, may scatter in the breeze,
Yet, in the silence, faith whispers, "All will be revealed with ease."
Those mountains, high and steep, that seem to block your way,
Will crumble, and valleys form, as you journey through life's fray.
Life was never meant to be, a problem-free domain,
But a pilgrimage, where struggles refine, and hearts are made plain.
So, breathe the present's air, and trust the unknown's sway,
For in the ebb and flow, you'll find a brighter day.
For every ending marks, a new beginning's birth,
And setbacks often lead, to a more resilient worth.
So, hold on to hope, and let faith be your guide,
And know that tomorrow's dawn, will bring a different tide.
I am content to walk alone,
but to walk in company with others
adds vigor and passion to the journey.
Rumi
Good Taoists,
although I am not sure I actually know any,
refine their inclusively subordinate clauses,
and sentences,
and contracts,
and lives
Define eternally and mutually satisfactory gratitude,
anthrosupremely alone
LeftBrain dominantly apart
We camouflage EarthTribe's cooperative ecological praxis
producing win/win healthy outcomes
consistent with multicultural peak experience research
within human natural systems
Analogically synthesizing sacred principles of Earth's nature,
Her natural flow and spirited functions
Her decay and lifeless dysfunction;
like post-millennial PermaCulturalists.
But, Western Monotheistic Cultures
prefer more compassionate vigor in our strut
through this divinely manifest live-system
we inherited from Indigenous Elders past,
comparatively short-sighted
about EarthMother's healthy global future.
All newborns are experiential researchers of balance,
symmetry,
flow and rhythm,
form and beauty,
capacity and lack thereof,
time's sufficiency and spatial synergy,
and lack thereof.
Human children also evolve as recreative muses
of color, shape, paradigms, stories,
rhythms of patterned confluence,
and denigrated dissonance.
We can,
Taoist or not,
child or not,
use dissonance to show us our way
toward appositional confluence.
We are each compelled to survive,
and sometimes togathering thrive,
in this Tao way,
within double-boundaries of systemic spacetime trauma
and therapeutic imagination,
rooted in regenetic memory.
Imaginations grow intuitively fueled,
empathic powered,
passioned,
vigorous,
with polysystemic comprehension of Prime Relationship
P-Yang=NP-YinYin,
binomial win/win thermodynamic balance,
as +1 = -(-0)
co-binary eco-empathic.
Cooperative economic polycultural balance,
exploring inclusive oppositional subsidiarity
to optimize EarthDay's slow-growth atmosphere
as one EarthTribe Community,
both compassionate,
and, hopefully, still content
with being less lonely
hiding behind all our LeftBrain dominant
verbal camouflage.
In the temple of silence, where the past awaits to be rewritten,
I wrap my longing in the mantle of night, searching for the lost ring of destiny,
That sacred symbol, forged in the shadow of agate forests,
Its color, a gateway to the depths where green meets the night.
I dared to part with it, to offer it as a gift to a pilgrim of fortune,
But in the quiet of the drawer, it lost the echo of the hand that shaped it.
With a heavy heart, I asked for it back, wore it as a talisman
Close to my heart, yet foreign as a dream of the past,
Untouched by the magic of vows under the starlit sky.
Where does it rest now? Hidden in a crypt of memories
Beneath the layers of days, in a place where no hand can touch it.
I scour my small world, not to find it, but to free myself
From the burden of longing, heavier than the chamber of oblivion where hopes melt away.
This ring, a symbol of our devoted love,
Became the relic of a pilgrimage of my soul,
Seeking rest in a mystery deeper than endless seas.
It calls me, not to find it, but to understand
That love, like the ring, cannot be confined to a form,
But is an eternal journey, a dance with the spirit of the wind.
In this labyrinth of life, where memories intertwine with dreams,
The lost ring is now a guiding star in the sky of my soul,
An invitation to live beyond limits, to love beyond form,
To find in every whisper of the wind, in every dancing leaf,
The magic of love that transforms, that lifts the soul to unseen heights,
Where each moment is a sacred altar of renewal,
And where love, ceaselessly, weaves its eternal song,
In a universe where everything is light, and everything is love.
AFTER THE FLOOD
Mount Ararat holds a testament
of stories told in ancient texts,
and stories shared down generations;
the aftermath of catastrophe.
Place names are the remembering
of gratitude as the Ark was drawn out of the water[1],
and the place of the descending[2]
into the village of the eight[3]~
survivers making pilgrimage[4] to the site of sacrifice[5].
Noah's Ark is resting there upon the mountain,
in archeological insistance,
and science is confirming the reality
of God's Judgment and His mercy.
The Drogue Stones[6] bear the witness to Noah's great adventure,
The Turks placing tourist signposts[7]
so we may walk the footsteps
of Noah and his progeny.
AFTER THE FLOOD
(tanka)
do doves remember
their ancient elder flying
over flood ravage
then returning to the ark
with a twig of new-found hope
[1] Uzengili Town – This was formerly called Mahser, which means: To be drawn out of the water
[2] Mount Judi
[3] Kazan and today is called Goller.
[4] Ziyaret Dagi
[5] Nasar
[6] anchor stones
[7] Noah's Ark National Park, Turkey
Wabi-Sabi 12-21-23
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wabi-Sabi
Empty the mirage of perfection
Whose shadow wears scars
Of perpetual broken rainbows –
Cracked rose petals –
Gilded edges joined by hibernation and spring.
A pilgrimage into amnesia
Timeworn victories fade into badges lost to time
Moonlight swallows the waning heart of morning
Sunlight gobbles up unfinished faces of the moon
Storms inhale fragments of sunbows.
Out of exploding ephemeral stardust broken beauty
As galaxies toss and turn creating quasars
Like waves sculpt eroding sands
In the orbit of perpetual opening ceremonies -
A journey into morphing excellence of golden seams.
And love grows to bloom then scatter rosehips
Into time’s silken wrinkles
Star born magma bows with gratitude
For unexplored shapes crafted on new shores
Where only eternity lasts forever.
In the labyrinth of thoughts, where the soul and mind intertwine like the vine,
A dance of shadows and light, where memories whisper like the wind through leaves,
There lies an abyss, deep and wide, like an unexplored ocean,
A realm where reason and emotion collide like falling stars.
The heart and intellect, in an unending ballet, like two twin spirits,
Each step a testament to the battles of yesterday, the storms within us,
Some lose their minds, yielding to the embrace of the soul, like a butterfly in flight,
Drifting into madness, a sanctuary, a sacred place like a forgotten temple.
Others forsake their soul, clinging to the vast domain of the mind like a castaway to a raft,
Becoming incarnate intellect, in the cold, unyielding reign of logic like an ice fortress,
But in this realm of reason, where feelings are kept at bay like ghosts,
They find themselves lost, in a world of endless gray, like a dream without color.
There are those who lose both, in the struggle to be whole, like a leaf in the wind,
Accepted by the world, but fragmented in their soul, like a broken mirror,
They walk the earth in shadows, neither here nor there, like bodiless shades,
Lost in the interval, in a state of quiet despair, like a lost echo.
And then, the few, who never taste the madness of the heart, like unyielding rocks,
Who live their lives in balance, each part a separate art, like a self-contained painting,
What dreadful existence must they lead, devoid of ecstasy and pain, like a field without flowers,
A life untouched by chaos, in a banal world, like a story without beginning or end.
Oh, to be mad, to feel the depths of every tear, like a rain of stars,
To dance with joy, to tremble with every fear, like a leaf in the wind's breath,
For in the madness of the soul, true freedom lies, like a sky without limits,
A journey through the cosmos, under the infinite heavens, like a dream without end.
Thus, let us cherish the madness, the eternal quest of the mind, like a sacred pilgrimage,
For in this dance of shadows, our souls are truly blessed, like hidden treasures,
Let us lose ourselves and in losing, find our way, like a river finding its sea,
In the beautiful chaos, where both heart and mind stray, like two wandering stars.