Self Poems | Examples of Self Poetry

“One being freed from the grip of Ahamkara attains his unmanifest state like the spotless moon becoming full after eclipse.” ~ quote from the Adhyatma Upanishad thoughts seem to arise without volition but mindful eye traces heart as the source wherefrom vibrations emoted in morse seek from mind as symbols, their rendition desires of heart cause intent’s emission but is...

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“The magic of a gem lies not in its beauty, but in the spark it brings to the eye.” Unknown ************************************************************** ...

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Heart is the Self The Self is truth Truth is Self is living light God’s light lights all lights God is the absolute Self...

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I feel safe and whole here Devoid of fear Alone listening to the rain Devoid of worry or pain Cocooned by green paddocks and trees Devoid of thoughts of death or disease No humans for miles around Devoid of white noise sound Completely at one with mother nature Devoid of chaos, destruction, haters I feel happy here as my soul is at rest Devoid of negativity...

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God, the Absolute is unknown to mind, yet since He alone is, the all there is, in staid silence, leaving concepts behind, feel the joy in our heart, as His bliss fizz. God is the all, so He must be within, so with thoughts rested, let’s shift to the heart, prayerfully merging, melding therein, led by love, sensing bliss ignition start. We see...

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The end of days is a term Dark enough To make men squirm And real enough In a way To make one consider His final day… Without regrets…who’s to say And doing so I must look back On what I wrought And what I wrecked What I built And what I broke What I gave And what I took Then the book that tallies sums Finds me wanting And then some For...

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She sat in front of her vanity mirror Her reflection felt unfamiliar The girl in it didn't look how she pictured She felt like a visitor In a body that should be familiar Yet somehow she felt like a prisoner Not knowing how to feel about the person in the mirror who reflected her She wasn't...

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After 63 years of smiling You might say I’m a professional I don’t know when I smiled for the first time After all I was a baby for a while My parents didn’t take many photos of me I was the second child so I guess the novelty had worn off. Sometimes a full toothed grin Followed by uncontrollable laughter Isn’t...

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No distance left between my soul and what I ran from all my years— a voice that thundered soft and whole, yet pierced me deeper than my fears. Not wrath, but mercy took its aim, not fire, but light unmasked my shame; no bullet came, and yet I fell— undone before the silent flame. The mirror shattered into grace, each shard reflecting who I...

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“Self observes waking, dreaming and deep sleep ~ In stillness taking a consciousness leap” ~ quote by poet Relying on instincts in the dream state, there remains neither logic nor free will, as we accept therein, our ordained fate, with no knowledge of our inherent skill. Perhaps the waking state...

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stupor the reason why we sink trance signals bondage to ego liberated souls do not blink since truth of Self they clearly know that we’re living light we have seen but heart lotus is yet to bloom through the mists we see our soul’s sheen rapture within then starts to zoom...

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Deluded wants?, by Daisy kabiu Was it stupid to want something you never had? Something that can't be touched. Possessing it was impossible. Finding it in all its glory Raw, unfiltered, and all-consuming, impossible. Something that can only be given. Sweet and soft. Shared, but not owned. You crave it, thirst for it. But Do you really want it? You see what it does to...

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Tempests of fear and desire tamed ~ Ego dropped, light of Self is claimed...

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When space and time vanish, what then remains, save the light of awareness self-aware and in that pristine state, there are no chains, for we shine as Self, delusion stripped bare, with no agenda we wish to declare. As one without a second, we’re the all, pulsating with delight, in a bliss squall....

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She might have painted the sea— or a golden field of wheat beneath a hazy summer sky— but he took her brushes, left the bristles splayed, the paints dried out, and the turpentine cloudy. And though she said nothing, her easel disappeared one day like a wispy cloud no one missed. After that, she painted nothing but dinner. They had imagined themselves sharing a studio but he needed all...

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