Long Renouncing Poems
Long Renouncing Poems. Below are the most popular long Renouncing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Renouncing poems by poem length and keyword.
As you walk through the corridors of life, its highways and by-lanes, the
back-alleys and well-beaten trails, through lush jungles or the arid scorching wilderness you pickup tidbits or sometimes gems of wisdom at the unlikely places, from the unlikely people, sometimes very much alive and present, sometimes from long dead and forgotten.
you learn from parents
and more so from peers and seers,
life teaches better.
One thing I learned from Jesus Christ is that you have to carry your own cross knowing full well that you may be crucified on this very cross – sometimes you have no choice, sometimes you have to do it for the good of the people.
Prophet Muhammad taught me that when a revelation dawns on you, embrace it zealously. If you have enough people believing in your perception, you have begun a new creed.
Moses taught me that you don’t have to tread the well-trodden path. You can cut across the wilderness and still reach the Promised Land.
Buddha taught me that a state of enlightenment can only be attained by renouncing physical and material yearnings.
Mahatma Gandhi made me see the futility of war and aggression. You can bring down a mighty empire just be a wooden staff in your hand and wearing nothing but a loin cloth.
Mother Teresa made me realize that you can live your life unselfishly, working and caring for others and still make your life a success and fulfilling.
not of the heavens
nor of any astral plane,
faith is of the heart.
Nowhere is taught the skills to live a life. You are not born with an instruction manual. No one can fix it for you if you screw it up. And you cannot return it and get an instore credit. You cannot put it on lay-away. You cannot exchange it for another if you don’t like the one you got. You just got to make it work good for you by yourself.
But these bits of wisdom comes much later—at the tether’s end of one’s life,
when we have already put too many miles on and the seats are all worn-out and the dashboard all faded and dusty. When the brakes start screeching and squealing. When the engine starts making funny noises and the radiator begins to leak…
a life-long process
salvation lies in one's self…
seek none but thyself.
“The path is simple: shift from head to heart ~
Stretch tranquil silence, adding love to cart”
~ quote by poet
Heart contractions bog us down,
when in fear torrents we drown
unless we just stretch and yawn,
awaiting onset of dawn.
To be as such, is a choice,
heeding whispers of soul’s voice,
renouncing desire and fear,
having faith that God is near.
Transient life is but a dream,
where myriad thought forms stream
wherein if we stretch the pause,
we see our soul, free from flaws.
Enabled by touch divine,
head and heart with love align,
whence within space-time thus stretched,
God’s grace in our heart is etched.
Let’s stretch mind-body balloon,
that in joy, nodes within swoon,
with bliss beats within on rise,
breath by breath, to our surprise.
Simply surrendering will,
voids within our form soon fill
and we transform as God’s light,
our aura pure and soft white.
Under the mantle of night, dark and woven with cryptic gleams,
A dreaming artist finds his calling, a secret and eternal protest,
The words that escape his lips tear through the thick veil of conformity,
Defying all that is official, public, and nationalist,
For every murmur of his is a scandalous cry of pure truth.
In the diaphanous light of the moon, his soul becomes a spectral beacon,
Illuminating the uncharted paths of those who defy common norms,
Each gesture of his, a sacrifice the world deems insane,
For in following his inner light, the artist inevitably chooses... poverty.
He sacrifices all status for a crystalline dream that gleams enigmatically,
Renouncing all worldly comforts to embrace divine truths,
In the depths of his heart, an unseen flame burns, guiding him toward mystery,
Even though his path is paved with renunciations and profound loneliness.
In every canvas and musical note, in every melodic and melancholic verse,
The soul of an artist flows, a living, vibrant protest,
In the silence of the night, his calling becomes a sacred incantation,
A promise to live beyond the limits of materiality, in a world steeped in magic.
And perhaps, one day, he might even renounce his art, for a higher dream,
In the final accords and agonizing colors, he will defy the passage of time itself,
He will embrace nothingness and infinity, for his true calling is to be a beacon,
A guiding light, an invitation towards the hidden sublime of the universe.
Under the scattered brilliance of stars and the pale moon, his soul dances,
In a waltz of renunciations and revelations, a living and mysterious poetry,
For in every sigh, in every murmur of the artist, an eternal epic is written,
A protest against conformity, a call to the pure magic of hidden truth.
Man
is the
Victim of
his own senseless
Troubles and problems.
As circumstances arises
sin nature’s surprises vent
Jesus and God our protecting
Us, and in the end of times we will rise
Up
Up, Up
and away
from all the hurts
that’s so easy free.
Keeps us from His glory
watching over me always.
Besets us double crosses us
Renouncing shame uplifting glory.
The rabbit has fallen out of hole.
Mankind has chosen wrong so.
No where left to go but up?
So pack up bags show up.
Cross the tees dot eyes.
No more blinders
cheap shots cries.
Holdings
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
11/25/17
Lost in the melancholic embrace of twilight,
I found myself anew, a soul drifting on the winds of fate,
Created to belong to that solitary spirit
For whom my heart would beat, rhythmic and thirsty.
Since the dawn of time, I have reveled
In this state of being a slave to Love!
Love demands patience, patience, renouncing my throne,
And baring my soul before a vast sea of uncomprehending souls.
I, the whirlwind, a storm in my fervent chaos,
And Love, the riverbed, calm and soothing,
Allowing my existence to flow, to simply be.
Being Love’s thrall, I am granted
The power to imbue dark souls
With the melodies of love, perfectly harmonized,
To give wings to their hearts,
So they too may dream of its enchanting embrace.
A slave to Love, I must be virtuous,
Woven from morals, principles, tears,
Blood and forgiveness, acceptance,
Blind will, and passion so deep, so fragile,
A force akin to nature’s wrath at times,
And at others, a delicately fragrant flower.
I have made Love my master,
As was ordained by celestial decree,
I have accepted this fate, ready to die for it if need be,
Though the lover within me yearns to be held
In warm hands, asked why I hold fast
Even when it means swimming against the current.
A servant of Love am I,
Reveling in this state as long as strength endures,
Dancing to its ethereal melodies,
Meditating on its serene depths,
Writing its secrets in shadowed prose,
Waiting for it, waiting patiently,
As those who drown wait,
For a hand to pull them to safety.
(This atheist imagining, envisioning,
and adopting a religious stance
asper extra-marital prance
sing unsheathing ma lil lance.)
if wand whoosh,
a mollified Genie could wave
abracadabra spellbinding mine fate, aye
would rejoice beholding,
an African Queen to stave
more precious then
fine spun gold (for Josephine) to buy
time against tortured Golgotha kepi
mein kempf wracking fate, thence pave
ving a stairway to heaven
after this ivory pawn doth die
cleansing, exorcising, and flushing
infidelity kindling lover misbehave
yore (ah Jove) many
full lush blue moons ago,
when verboten fruit
yours truly didst deaf fie
temptation no amount
renouncing sin spent kneeling, this knave
scrutinizing engravure etched with blessed
"Jesus, bare naked Amazon Mary
and Joseph" motif guy
interweaved by pointed
finger of Goddess Sheba almighty
beckoned deft fiat halting joist
lowered nondescript plain rigid casket
swallowed by grave
temporally ushered whirled wide
webbed rebirth where I
received life anew breathless composure
dousing errant fellow
guilt honestly iterated, jackanapes
kneaded licentious maligned narcissistic
opprobrious philandering questing re: deprave
transgressions, whereat this gentile Jew did lie
unclothed satisfying prurient crave
ving vitiating marital covenant, now my
soul asylum anointed, via sedulous, glorious,
and fabulous Nubian enchantress deign nigh
ying celibacy decreeing
expurgating sexual crave
ving, hence thy status as Zen eternal
Eunuch (corny punster)
as acceptable punishment bequeathed
by said deliquescent, iridescent,
and opalescent dreamt up
"FAKE" pitch black Negroid hallucination
from over active imagination
me didst truly ply.
Man perfect was Gods creation
Everything was hunky-dory
Need to feel feral sensation
Birthed his broken person story
Fallen from grace, in matter coarse
Man perfect was Gods creation
Renouncing love, employing force
Chose the path of agitation
Delusion amidst illusion
Took birth here again and again
Man perfect was Gods creation
Yet now his soul, reveals dark stains
God so kind, threw man a lifeline
His conscience, urging cessation
Free when head, heart and love align
Man perfect was Gods creation
26-June-2021
A broken person Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Faraz Ajmal
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A nice cool breeze blew,
across the lush green landscape.
Under the blistering heat of the sun,
laying beneath a great big willow tree.
A wicked snake slowly slithered my way,
as it approached it began to tell a story.
About a future with unimaginable gifts,
filled with limitless power and wealth.
The snake said it would all be mine,
only after renouncing my faith.
By eating the forbidden fruit,
I sell my soul to the devil.
God's warm embrace,
lost for eternity.
5/25/2017
Love the true God,
and let him fight your many
battles for you when you're weary;
love Him and seek His favor...
He is the truest friend
to run to in times of fear!
Ever wonder why most people don't find
a complete and genuine happiness,
if all their energy is wasted on vain things?
And if they ever find it in their lifetime...
it will be unfelt and shallow;
be like the simple friars
who dedicate their lives to the Lord,
and pray earnestly for all sinners!
Love the true God
with a will so bold...
love the One who's forgiving and patient,
but don't mock Him
with your unkept promises;
let Him teach you His kind ways...
trust Him and be assured that
He will spare you from the approaching storm!
The confusion that religion has created,
has driven Mankind to irrationality:
they declare war for their great god,
kill their brothers with hatred inside;
amidst fire,smoke,cries and blood,
be the judge of this human madness:
don't partake in their insanity...
look to Him with calm and gladness!
Love the true God,
be a glorious warrior
without swaying your sword...
to clash with the enemy
standing and waiting afar;
prove you unshakable integrity
by renouncing your belligerency!
I was born with dreams, not my own, but woven like a spider's web into my blood,
by ancestors who left this world without fulfilling their desires,
they pass down ambition like an heirloom of old silverware, polished with memories,
caressed by the dust of decades, yet too precious to be left to fade away.
Each night, I feel them breathing at the nape of my neck, whispering like an ancient wind:
"Do not waste what we could not become, do not let the dreams fade into oblivion".
But I wonder, what happens if I want nothing of this at all?
What happens if true freedom means letting dreams lie untended,
renouncing the burden of inherited ambitions, carving my own path through the labyrinth,
where the shadows of the past cannot touch my light, living a life unchained,
becoming a shooting star in the sky of my own freedom, a constellation of choices?
Perhaps, in the silence of the nights, I will find the answer in the echo of my unheard desires,
in the quiet between heartbeats that dream of something else, of a universe of possibilities,
where the courage to be nothing but myself becomes the true magic of existence.