"incarnations" poems
The river forks at big stone eddy
rending currents meandering course,
its silence speaks not with forked tongue
as kismet's swirling eddies abide
as if time immemorial;
a river naturally cleaved
in two separate distinct directions
befallen destiny without a choice
Spinning round and round in big stone eddy,
time just drifting by in the throes
of doubt — high water rising
beyond the bounds of earth
taking drowning souls up to the sky
Choking on a mouthful of unanswered questions,
suffocating on the parting words left unsaid;
distilling life into poetry hew from being —
trickling out like the spilled out sky —
taken down to the empty riverbed
leave lay' til it's all washed away,
in the music of the pourin' down rain
Freedom embodies metaphysical incarnations
riding the prevailing currents it can't control
Gravity-gathered down to the shoreline,
manifest reclamation after the deluge,
from somewhere far above the high-water mark
Swallowed by all the darkness woe betides,
thinking you carry such a weight to hold...
It seems all got a handful of sand to toss
up into the wind to seed the clouds
The totality of eclipsing silence grows
that rent the stillness of a dream
of peace on an eroding shoreline
In an Eddy of Expectations & Disappointment
dark waters will ebb and flow,
imponderable as drowning hope,
leaving it all out there to dry after the rain
believing in your heart —
the best is yet to come
Jesse Stillwater ... November 2018
Nov 24, 2018
Nov 24, 2018 at 12:09 PM UTC
Samantha Fox
Was a panther
In a previous life
As well as an ox.
Not to mention
The wife of a
17th century cobbler
On the outskirts
Of Gillingham.
Which is unusual
As those who remember
Past incarnations
Are usually the wives
Of Heads of Nations
Or helped build pyramids.
Actually said Samantha
I forgot to mention
I was also the transistor
In Euclid's protractor.
Can you get anachronisticer?
Oh reincarnation
The rebirthing
Mother of invention.
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 3:12 PM UTC
It is said in Mahabharata that Krishna,
Who was an incarnation of Vishnu,
Was the Charioteer of Arjun,
The most expert archer.
And Arjun was among the Pandavas,
Pandavas're the legendary winners,
Of the epic Mahabharata War,
That killed uncountable men.
We observe several such incarnations,
In the Kalyuga's modern era as well,
Guiding those who seek guidance,
Showing path to those who need.
I was before joining Hello Poetry,
So lost - so confused - so troubled,
My thoughts so jammed my brain,
But now I find myself calm - so cool.
Here on Hello Poetry,
We have our own Charioteer,
Guiding our own poetry Chariot,
He is an expert, his name is York, Eliot.
Mar 29, 2013
Mar 29, 2013 at 1:00 AM UTC
A rain cloud, I was
in one of my incarnations,
heavy and pregnant with water,
it was proud,
billowing, adorned with
lightening's golden thread,
it poured in torrents,
with roars of thunder,
then sped through the fields,
that became fertile,
farmers with their ploughs
and bullocks came out,
the fields were bright green
with dancing rice saplings
Some other time
I was an ecstatic bulbul,
mango blooms told me amorous tales,
I voiced each in snorous ghazals,
The rice fields were ripe,
musky scent was ******
Women came in waves
and harvested the rice,
their songs were on romance,
ardent love and parting
hearing the bulbul
they perfected their singing.
A long time ago
I was a goat's kid,
I sprang around and danced
in the harvested field,
the cloud wanted to pet me
but she was so far,
bulbl sung a special tune
for me for a while
Looking at the green grass
on the other side of the fence
I would think wistfully,
what life would bring.
Jan 18, 2013
Jan 18, 2013 at 10:28 AM UTC
building purist æsthetic
proselytizing solar-powered heliolatry
commemorating historic concert
sensing dark forces
fokken lekker antwoord
pumping sensory overload
featuring high-tech dee-jay
admiring gelato micro-truck
laxing laying lazing
"doing something nasty"
continuing quality content
entering another cathedral
journeying without borders
"exactly one year
since visiting vatican"
appreciating full-time gigasphere
awaiting pyongyang performance
depicting unlikely crowdsurfer
foreseeing exponential improvements
furthering esoteric agenda
sensing profound incompatibility
data-mining people's infidelities
anticipating futuristic caffeine
perfecting invisible propaganda
researching mind-control techniques
polishing psycho-social weaponry
sensing social embargo
flourishing frantic fanfare
admiring longitudinal monument
parodying marketing slogans
cycling through österreich
eyeing dystopian disneyland
streaming crosswords extended-play
herding glass kittens
deleting idiosyncratic fragment
loremipsum-ing laconic loudmouth
receiving ultramodern telegram
eigo-ga wakarimasu ka?
guzzling duck-fat fries
encouraging panic selling
(juxtaposing past incarnations)
getting black-and-white privilege
renewing boutique account
relishing cinema poutine
re-entering hibernation mode
opening old windows
continuing zoo motif
absquatulating excessive excesses
nullifying originality claims
proliferating protean persona
disappearing sidewalk alphabet
shrugging opprobrious moments
enjoying vertical alignment
re-entering cyberpunk paradise
approaching island sun
soaring beyond monoliths
trivializing extraneous argy-bargy
decreasing character limits
dumping generic accounts
uglifying commit message
escaping into idiosyncracy
moonshining great lake
exuding idiosyncratic propaganda
living nineties' dreams
making occidental cuisine
envisioning idiocratic president
expropriating your time
ascending homely helix
singing fat lady
Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 12:12 PM UTC
Frozen moments,
embraced,
visions of
luminous things,
unpretentious
pearls dancing;
embers of memory linger,
elegy of the lachrymose,
this horizoning self
lying low in saturnine
tranquility
and repose – paternity lost
to the provisional.
The cross of lassitude,
forming
scars of loss;
estrangement,
preface to
ineluctable autonomy.
Earthen treasure - immortal
footprints, the migration
of fair maidens across my
effusive heart.
Venus trio in bloom,
aesthetic allusion,
ephemeral incarnations
of beauty - perishable fruit,
transcending the plebeian.
Aerial substance-
the hermeneutic,
betraying desire’s
ambrosial tyranny;
The permuted passage -
savor the sojourn, submit
to the fated peregrination.
Purple orchids blossom,
immortal creatures,
culminating
in perfection
from the sheath
respectively,
each plume,
singular,
the continuum of
splendor, mediate
the inviolable.
Eternity compounding,
time and essence suffuse
the already and not yet
into an
orbiting mosaic.
The susurrant devotions
of a satellite father,
summon the quest -
both, and,
absence and proximity,
conduits of
distress and peace
ironically,
solace and
terror
traverse the
same path.
Plunge though,
deep, the depth of pain;
deeper, sweeter
the taste of pleasure.
Engender and witness,
window into
preeminence,
surface azure,
the sacred -
inimitable gravity of
grandeur,
ma petite,
you - are
lived poetry
seen and heard;
cosmic order,
a mediating heuristic -
to love is to see,
in the dismal,
gift of distance.
child of delight,
evermore, Don’t I hold you?
Beauty and strangeness,
music found
in linear,
secret places
beyond the tangent,
purview of limitation,
arousing imagination -
infinititude as near
as it is far.
Long loneliness -
dissonance that
resolves;
perceiving,
the tertiary refrain -
as exquisite verse,
and matchless liqueur,
sublime gratuity
derived
through
doors of surrender.
Daughter,
in adoration and wonder,
I hold you.
Jan 19, 2012
Jan 19, 2012 at 5:25 PM UTC
cross-over
behind the back
simple wrist flip
34 footer drops
and I sit in awe --
having witnessed
Showtime
Magic, Kareem, Worthy
Vs.
The Parquet floor
and Larry Bird….,
the bad boys,
and the Jordan era
(both incarnations),
big Timmy in San Antonio,
and Hakeem in Houston,
Shaq and Kobe,
Kobe and Gasol,
the reign of a new king
shinning like the sun in Miami...
they all sit back
like me
mouth open
feeling a state of awe
muthafukkin Stephe Curry
……hope homeboy stays healthy,
I like bearing witness to NBA godliness –
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 6:10 PM UTC
flesh smirks cautiously
silent beehives squelching elk
leaps glumly, mules snarl
bluebird builds, rigid
foundlings disappear lamely
incarnations peck
raw conjurers acts
devious shady agile
rosemary boasts, stare
starflower hovers
depression gives birth snidely
harps romping mustang
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 5:22 PM UTC
The Soul, my eternal interloper
Disciple of numerous incarnations
And admirer of the disembodied spirit
Cast from me, my dear
What are you good for?
For I truly do not understand your counsel
My Albatross in life
Shadowy in death
I wait for a glimpse of your light
How do I draw the curtains to
Enlightenment
How many more manifestations?
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 7:06 AM UTC
this long red tunic
hides her battle scars well.
centuries of fighting incarnations of cunning lucifer
her eyes sea blue,
her lips blood red,
the crescent moon on her forehead
witness to her numerous accolades.
in the continuing saga of good vs evil,
her next battle begins.....
this warrior goddess of exquisite beauty
pauses to smile,
just for you and me.
with this gifted diamond earring
now worn
as her cosmic amulet,
her ultimate victory is near certain!
© 2021
Oct 9, 2021
Oct 9, 2021 at 8:45 AM UTC
How much do we have to take before we can go without, how long before the draught? death by entertainment, it seemed so glamorous how could one go without?
I knew better to begin with, now its time to have faith in my oneness. opening a new chapter to a story that has no end, doing away with infinite incarnations perpetuated by masochistic sin. Death to the creator, the created, the masturbated, incubated, presipitated falsehoods of pajentry. Death to all the silly megabytes of pompous epiphany. Death to the beast that thrived off of insecurity. Death to all that which is no longer me.
Unsimulated, unappropraited energy that is free to be anything but alerts on a screen. False flags of fullfillment waving endlessly with self pity. Perfectly punctuated cries for help and lol's that reeked of nothing but "I hate myself."
Cut the net, it's a trap for something fluid with that which doesn't connect. Don't bother looking here for love, it is already in all that doesn't limit itself.
Jul 10, 2013
Jul 10, 2013 at 5:56 AM UTC
In the garden in Corniche
In the playground bound by a metal fence,
While the Arab teenage kicks the ball,
The feet of the Sudanese, sitting on the stone bench nearby
Start prickling;
Cries out that
For one who knows how to score goals,
The hunger to kick a ball
Is the ultimate one!
Me? I shall remain nameless!
The fisherman
Whose whole body tingles
As he espies a shiver of gigantic sharks
Even while swimming for life,
Having lost his boat and fishing net in the deluge,
The nun, whose ******* start secreting
As she watches a bawling baby,
Standing amidst toddlers of the nursery
The swimmer,
Who crawls through the desert
On camel-back
I do not ask for anything else
Just the ball and the opposition
Let a thousand, or tens of thousands come,
Let the goal-mouth
Be miles distant,
I do not ask for anything else
Once, while carrying a load of cement
On the tenth floor,
For a moment,
A moment,
The sun tempted, as a huge ball.
The scar of the beating received
While dribbling the sun on the sky meadow
Remains on the back..
There are ***** anyone can play with.
No, all surges ahead
Do not end in goals.
There are no games that do not have ‘foul’ -
Even in dreams.
There are no Arab children
In the playground now.
Jut the ball, ball, ball alone.
It scurries hither and thither
By itself,
Races outside,
Speeds towards the goal-mouth,
Sometimes ducks out of sight.
Very privately,
And even more secretly,
Ball smiled at me.
A shudder of incarnations
In my toes.
As soon as the ball and feet
Left the playground,
Two legs
Started dancing,
Betwixt twilight and night.
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 12:57 AM UTC
The sensation,
sensuous.
Incarnations ,
*remember
us?*
Carved on cave walls &
sung on birds beak
in gliding flight
from past
slingshot
through to the future,
falling into a deeper than seen river ,
of now
serpentine bodies ,
flex
tense,
flex our god/ess
muscles to learn & teach
of the
forgotten
apple of knowledge.
Carnal sin is
redemption.
The real question is..
Who were the Snakes?
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 10:53 PM UTC
...If I love you...
Feathers all fallen grey
I slowly learn to Fly
Again
This is how I am
This is who I am
My spirit clearly senses
Harboring delicate thoughts
Some things I often thought myself unable anymore
I burnt all the white sage
To purify the Energy
Let it go now Let it go away
All these somber silhouettes like dead crows
Around my head
Inside my heart
May they fly higher nevermind how it tears my soul apart
I will live on
They say if I love You
I love myself
Thus I learn to cherish my own Multiverses
Nevermind the misunderstanding
I know why it is so hard to love myself
This is how I came to the world
Maybe also parts of my previous incarnations
I have been taught again and again
About the precious release of Loving Kindness
When you kiss the depths of Forgiveness
You keep falling down the mountains
To the same grounds and dreary gardens
Because it's here
There is something to learn
There is something to burn
White sage
chanting chanting chanting
Shamanism healing
White Light coming from deeper inside me
Unlock my Spirit Now
If I love myself
I love You.
(inspired by Rumi's words)
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 4:07 PM UTC
Eternity
It turns me so gently
In a moment
I felt the crash of waves
breaking on shores of our past.
An ageless zephyr speaking silence,
imparting truths ever clearer than the last.
In a moment
I witnessed a presence of self
that was static and, yet, yielding to the motion.
Feelings flowed and I dared to experience,
wading through a river called emotion.
In a moment
I knew that I knew nothing
of certainty and its incarnations.
Though if in my doubt is fate assured,
let my anxious heart melt into patience.
In a moment
I found only this moment
And it turned me, again
Eternally
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 1:16 AM UTC
she gave me white light
it looks like a light sword
making numerous echo in space
I did not ask for what ...I know
no ornamental word would do
futile definitions
flashy ads
waste of breath
15 minutes of clutter
15 minutes of fame
15 minutes of a life
yep Warhol was right
empty containers
to be filled up
to create -fillers
a byproduct of ego
of a selfless time
oh what an an illusion
I live in sometime
not knowing media as the bird's call
true technology is my received gift
with me inside or you
is there a difference?
we are all embodiment
carrier of the code
essence of eternal
not to hurry though
not to resist
resist resists the self just
I cannot trespass the chanting
I shall not think to try
thinking is my only sin
why do we fight?
mo and mu were the same guy
two incarnations in one or three
born at different times
their writers failed just
the difference definer
yes definer and not the creator
'create' remains holy
with a spirit – like words with
spirit-
running memory
activated by sound maybe
the difference definer sets bricks
of flamboyance
en route escape to escape lifetimes
invites the endless cycle of fight
could fray be for peace
and not by cowardice?
fear is my only sin
born from ignorance
of self
as in my- as in your-
not a portmanteau but
an affix by nature
so there is no difference
let fray be for peace
then A joker's viola
let it be a joke for
a joyous while
for a joyous halftime
you don't need do much really
if you can whistle once
under the golden sun
through your belly
somewhere in a cool place
selfless illusion fades
there is nothing else
no book could describe
as such
I have crossed libraries
with my starship
but the source light
not bound to time so yes
for whatever it was
I closed my eyes
slowly learning to dance now
along its wings
it has more to tell then its aesthetics
we cross dimensions while
we perpetually make some
the reflection the waveform
in a little note we harmonize
my fingertips- carrier of a glow
I - the particle of light
we pass
and yes after each turn
there is a you to learn from
or I to be.
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 8:09 PM UTC
As for me, I favor fire
in its various incarnations
its many supple siren bodies
its many sultry, scorching fingers
sensually curling
dancing for me like a woman
stirring perspiration
warming my belly
I inhale its ashy breath
as it explodes in an ******
of light and dark
yellow and black
blood orange and ink
scalding, searing
shaping, sizzling
starving, swirling
hissing like a serpent
cackling as it devours
hungering and growling
reaching, desirous
for anything in its path
ravenously sinking teeth
into paper edges
licking bark of trees
******* the air and sap
like marrow
and leaving behind only dust
insatiable demon
that feeds on flesh
irresistible angel
that warms the soul
how would that I
could match the inferno
of your white-hot gaze!
evolve your overwhelming
unquenchable thirst for life
the ability to destroy
and to forge.
So as for me, I say at last,
I favor fire.
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 6:27 PM UTC
This place is so quickly home
in my cinder block palace
the leaky sink, the naked boy in the bed
across from mine.
I am triumphantly queen of these gravel-roofed blocks
dragged back, bladder bursting
to my little kingdom.
my people wait up in the hallways
they are dazed and blurry eyed
the 4 am incarnations
of what we promised ourselves we’d never be.
curled up in corners
shivering away from reality.
I have conquered nothing
but my parent’s expectations.
Sep 11, 2011
Sep 11, 2011 at 4:13 PM UTC
Rain
As I was sitting in the Dark, Contemplating The Chaos
Of The Eternal Path of Wasted Incarnations
A Thunderstorm Raged Echoing the Internal Turmoil
Lightning’s Blazing the Sky of a Scattered Soul
Rain Was Pouring, Tears Of Cumulated Meaningless Lives
Filling Earth With Life and Floodding The Emerald Eyes
Flowing Down in Rivulets Filling a Waterfall of Pearls
Smashing Down on The Cold Marble of The Heart
Dark Heavy Clouds Accumulating Above
Filling The Remaining Open Channel
Blocking The Dim Moon Rays Left
Only Source of The Remaining Of Life
Thunder Raging, Covering the Howling
Of Despair Running Through the Crimson Rivers
Of The Fluid Of My Damnation
Keeping Life Running in a Soulless Body
Lightning Stripping a Dark Sky
Emanating From the Scars
Of The Gloomy Heart
Glowing In a Purple Shard
I Invoke You, Love Of Many Lives
Life Of Many Loves
As You Can Hear Through
Time, Space and Curses
Call Upon Earth To Regain Strength
Call Upon Fire To Be the Once Known Phoenix
Call Upon Water To Open Dimension Doors
Call Upon Air to Learn to Fly Again
Break your Chains and Set You Free
For Mine’s are To Numerous and Heavy
Set Ablaze the Internal Magick
And Walk the Tinny Step to Set Me Free
As By Seeing Your Angelical Face
By Hearing the Musical Spheres of You Smiles
By Feeling The Warmth Of Your Heart
I will, at last, rest in Peace
Warlock
Nov 28, 2009
Nov 28, 2009 at 5:43 AM UTC
The clouds wander on the placid water plane,
Fallen dark angels, trapped in cold flat surface,
Surreal, above the slow swimming fish in the depth
My urge to wade in and stand knee-deep
Will now smash water's fragile memory
Of sun blazed cold clouds in to smithereens
The fish, unaware of all this
And an intimacy that goes beyond
Many incarnations, would tickle
Me from toe to knee, nibble till it bleeds.
Water, a memory beyond birth,
My momentary refuge, sin and redemption.
Pain that binds me with life's incessant
Yearning to go back to elements.
It's in blue water, watching her in full bloom,
Swim in exuberant mirth, I spilled my wild seeds.
And once, the ashes of my father's mortal remains
Went gently in to water, to be one with mother earth.
**Water, beginning and the end, my forgiving
Mother, waiting with stretched hands at both ends.**
Jul 23, 2012
Jul 23, 2012 at 9:36 AM UTC
Poet daubed the corporal on the wings of carney
Wanderer dilettante soul lusted au wild routes
Counted each the millimiles covered
Upside , unstrained , Unflaggingly.
Yon the valleys , epitome meadows and Hillsides
Beated around the alcoves amok
Ridges passed the marooned trails
Agape the flinged self flew spirited madrigals
Slowly rooted the tints into wilderness
True entity got superimposed to sylvan instincts
The obsolute shadow rigged the shooner
By dimension lengthier the time but shorter by grace
Grazed through and some toxic airs exhaled then pulled
Blinked all the roof to rugs
Remembrance of concrete boxes and intimate sidekicks
Cheap conflict wins to hit the ring
If body wins wanderlust looses thereby path ends
Simultaneous call by consciousness and objection by eternal shadow
Only the body grazed the maps with pointers
Though insatiably leveed
Kept retention the coursing shadow
Yet remained damp , savaged the sylvan traits
Life was near but the abstainer failed
Wilderness abysm rejected the unfortunate physique
There appeared
Scorched canopies along wilted flora
Container flogged the shadow to a stultifying death
Physique deceived self the core truth
Existence thereafter without knowing the chance with eterna
Several followed the imperishable conflict trail
Roll of honour diminished by fourth dimension
Marked victories of featherbrains over pappus chambers
Only few sticked upto xanthic flowers
Raise up , were the victories thristled down?
Many knocked and still keep on knocking incarnations
Fine array of fossilized saturnine inhibitions
Callous attritions over altruism of succinct shadows
Flip sorties pariance spurts
"The stanchion to revet my sky" voiced the shadow
Aug 2, 2016
Aug 2, 2016 at 2:09 AM UTC
it rains
where scattered white mists
applaud the silhouette
of a sharp and pointed moon
whose coagulant light
dispatches an infinite
population of ghosts
to haunt upon the mind
with tangential interests
are reluctant incarnations
of an intolerable vocabulary
with incoherent signs
these ragged images
free float before the eyes
create a straight line
upon a lime green colored wall
whose ghostly contour of shape
has no reason to be there
then it rains in horizontal free fall
from the ceiling to the floor
where these apparitions collide
in an empty sky of stars
creates a mysterious circumstance
that dictates mischievous epigraphs
where the leaves are black
it is whispered to young men
who reluctantly plant trees
whose shade they know
they will never sit in
it rains in this place
an angry and heavy rain
that sculpts the bones
and blinds the eyes
and the young men lie down
like rusted knives
in an antique drawer
without recognizing
this dredful portent of war
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 10:15 AM UTC
Part 1
The snooze button empowers me to the veto the day
However some Congressional sub-committees on time and financing appear to be overriding my action
Part 2
I have played with clouds
I have seen moons drop past the horizons of distant worlds
I have talked to Solomon, Moses, Jesus, Muhammad, Siddhartha, the Dalai Lama, all of his incarnations, Gandhi, Ben Franklin, Abraham Lincoln and soldiers returning home from countless wars
And I have been disappointed thousands of times because you have awoke me before I was fully enlightened
Part 3
You should have warned me before I said something stupid
Why don't you ever signal me before I over draw my checking account
You could of let out some kind of peep telling me that the dog was about to crap on the floor
You are good for nothing
Part 4
It needs to be over between us
I am in love with pillow
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 12:38 PM UTC