Long Samsara Poems
Long Samsara Poems. Below are the most popular long Samsara by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Samsara poems by poem length and keyword.
Buddhists don’t talk of original sin
The way Christians do,
But they both talk about the same thing;
That in the beginning there was light
And the Word, and the missing of the mark.
For Buddhists this “sin” is basic ignorance,
The ignoring of who and what we are.
For Buddhists experience is divided
Into two basic categories;
Enlightened, or Nirvana, and
Deluded, or Samsara.
Nirvana is peace.
Samsara is suffering.
The experience of each are thus polar opposites,
But the simple original sin,
The fundamental deviance,
Is that Samsara arose from the desire
To improve Nirvana, our original nature.
So Samsara is Nirvana plus desire,
The desire to personalize it,
Put our mark of identity on what was
Already always perfect.
To extend the cross cultural metaphor
You could say we wanted to give it
The mark of the beast.
And that’s how we lost the light.
(8/16/26)
Under the sun and moon, flawed men linger in the cold
Who in the mist of darkness, cut and rip apart trees eons old
While stepping on grass and insects for wood to be sold
Deaf to the pleas the light within makes to them while men seek for gold
To make for themselves gods to care as well as impugn
Blind to the Father of Greatness who stands above the sun and moon
Carving the wood with knives with the edges razor thin
Into aggressive lions, venomous serpents, armed men of sin
Maidens with iron-grey painted on their senseless skin
Leaving spikes to pierce through the lights of purity trapped within
And with skill, they craft horned bulls painted with bronze for flair
Leaving the spirits to burn in despair, with smoke to fill the air
And to sell them like slaves that customers have to pay
Though these gods are the apparent wisdom and light, or so they pray
Hanging them with silver chains by their necks as display
Trading them as property despite calling them the gods each day
Painted in blood red to make them easier to trade
With tears unseen flowing to the blue sky for tranquillizing aid
Bowing down to the wailing statue to be devote
With the worshippers filling the room with prayerful chants with each throat
Maybe praying for their deceased children’s river boat
While blindly bowing, with raining tears, to their children’s wooden coat
A statue sitting down with a serene face and veil
With souls in that chaotic Samsara, in that cyclical flail
Giving fruits of all colours that are pleasing to see
For the trapped souls to smell their brethren rotting as a death-filled sea
Pouring fish blood unto the wooden corpse of a tree
To show loyalty to the wooden carcass with their prayerful glee
Half the wood they burn for food which is perishable
Half the wood they worship as a god who is imperishable
Craftsmen make wooden crosses of a man crucified
To honour the one Christ whom the world of winter’s darkness denied
While nailing the Suffering Jesus with hands applied
Further crucifying the Cross of Light within the wood that died
May the light be free from the lion-headed craftsman
May the light, through the sun and moon, become the one and only Perfect Man
By the Grace of Amitabha,
You shall transcend the Samsara,
This mantra is your Sila,
Your Samadhi, and your Prajna,
The shield that demons fear,
The call that all yearn to hear,
The sword that slices the Gordian knot
Of lustful desire and crushing fraught.
Thus, with one heart in Him seek,
Seek rebirth in Ultimate Bliss,
And save yourself from the abyss
Of the dismal infernal Naraka
By resolving for with resolute faith
The profound Dharma of Amitabha,
His Forty Eight Vows and Grace!
Dither not and seek in haste,
Leap high above cruel Dukkha,
Beyond evil karma and King Yama,
And become a Bodhisattva
Standing atop the lofty Lotus Dais
Beside Amita Tathagata,
Beside merciful Avalokitesvara,
And by the wise Mahathamaprata,
And at that time your mind will know
That you have always been Amitabha,
And your birthright is to enjoy,
Now and forever, the eternal delight
Of the Land of Sole and Lasting Light.
Poem released into Public Domain
All roads lead to the same place
What’s different is the path they take
But no matter where you go
There is always at least a hint of perfection
A perfection that is great
Because it is always and already perfect
Even in the depths of Hell
The light of awareness casts its shadows
While at the peak of Heaven
That light is all there is
Between these two the scenes of Samsara
Churn in cycles of day and night
And yet always there is the light of awareness
Perfect, pristine, spontaneous and uncontrived
Whether we know it or not in our ignorance
Whether we see it or not in our blindness
A sphere of light that knows no dark
That we perceive in every thing we see.
(1/5/25)
("I of the Beholder", 2014, original pen and ink)
The World Is Changing
Quick as thought
The world is changing
Right before our eyes
Everywhere
People waking up
To what needs to change
What can be done
Because finally
We have the means
To do
Or at least try.
Quick as thought
People waking up
To the need to correct
Age-old injustices
To the disadvantaged
And disempowered
In a society sick from success
And excess
That cares not for the other
From the poor and unborn
To the planet itself.
And just as quick
Piggybacking on the first
Growing social awareness
Comes the spiritual awakening
It is all in vain
Literally, our hubris to think
We can change anything
Others or the world
That it even needs changing
To become a better
More perfect union
Just because our guilty conscience
Tell us we should
And our abundant wealth and knowledge
Tempts us with how
Doesn’t mean we know
What’s best even if we could
And so we freeze – at the starting gate
Or blindly rush on – unsure in which direction
Each the same
In our foolishness.
And thus our consciousness
Rises another notch
On the evolutionary scale
In a hierarchy of needs
From the group pack and herd
To the personal self and individual
Onward and upward into the transpersonal
With its realms beyond physical
In the space of the spiritual
Immediate without limit
Changeless ever-present.
And so we go, each and all,
Zero the Hero
The journey of a star from dust to dust
Ignition into radiance
Extinction into darkness
With a moment or two of self-awareness
Along the way
A moment or two before and after science
When time stops still
We step off the wheel surprised at last
To find we simply are.
(10/23/23)
I'm your competition in showing affections.
You found your queen, of love's chess game.
Our singing voices will heal our afflictions.
You and I are often seeing how we are same.
I'm your companion with you in every nation.
You found your western "Indian" princess.
Our poems prove it is not mere infatuation.
You and I made for each other, to impress.
I'm your colleague in this school of life.
You found a fellow peer without comparison.
Our wisdom from lives keeps us from strife.
You and I shall co-author for all that's been.
I'm your consort through Samsara with you.
You found me again, because I promised
Our love shall be eternally eminent and true.
You and I are demigods finally so blessed.
In the vigor of day no cloud, in night's creep thought so loud
the body of your birth shock animated,
where nothing lies or dies
and the only law that can catch you is hesitance
in the heart where your naivety resides
intuition's arithmetic equals defiance
you know that there is lightning in your lamp
a studious savage barks to begin
the State will sear your surname onto the collar and clamp
you only have the right to fight to live, to take the win,
is the heart of a hero infallible
can you become a juggernaut of justice
to no longer rage against the inevitable
the diploma soul tattooed, let love be your witness,
the skeletons and songs of samsara eternal -
I want to thank Poet, Craig Cornish, for introducing
the academic format of Heroic Crown Sonnet to me,
and I am proud to say...I did it my way...
also, I reversed the ryhme scheme for the 15th sonnet,
and the 15th sonnet was not composed prior to
the preceeding 14 poems being written in this composition...Justin A. Bordner
Not For Contest...J.A.B.
the invisible threshold
i shall not hide
i shall not die
in fervors demeanors
mis-contraception
dedicate that grammar
under sheets i halt breads
nervous
nervous is samsara
the apprehension of sorrow
end sowing of silks
cursiffs
i am also finnish
regalitry and conformity
i thee web
backstrokes towards mercy
another strings pluck
without and gaunt
she labeled and i shrunk
guilded rembrandts
dethroned liberation
my carpentry
and my stones
cementing fences
learning tones
all as duty
and none as before
once again known breach
sand shall never relent
the shore is not bright
#civilrightslaws
("Bristlecone", 2016, original pen and ink)
Samsara
Beneath the titillation of Samsara
the veneer of morality waits.
Or is it the opposite?
Beneath the veneer of morality
the titillation of Samsara awaits.
Either way, it’s the same thing,
the whole damn mess
being one giant game of seduction.
But that sucking sound
at the heart of seduction….
pulling us in
to a void
that's impossible to avoid
the force at the core
that makes the ten thousand
whirling contents irrelevant
Ah, that!
“Darkness within darkness
The gate to all mystery”
the old sage mentioned…
(9/19/23)
THREE
I have the best wife, for the Love of Pete!
My Little Potato ever Blesses me!
She helps me heal with everything I eat,
She leads me ‘cross the wide, Samsara Sea!
She whirls me, like a top, darkness spins off!
She’s patient with my weaknesses, and drops
The subject, once she’s done telling me off,
Abundance, Beauty, Joy, Peace, are the crops
She grows in Heavenly Gardens, rosy bowers…
There, hides a dagger, the fatal coup-de-grace*
…She fights with Principalities and Powers!
Word-forged the dagger is, a ruby cross
Adorns its hilt, see, it is of Words made
To obtain it, Laurie with her dear life paid…
*the coup-de-grace was not only a merciful blow with a dagger, designed to swiftly and painlessly end the life of a suffering knight, who could not be saved, this name was also used for the dagger, itself, which was designed for such a purpose