"renunciation" poems
745
Renunciation—is a piercing Virtue—
The letting go
A Presence—for an Expectation—
Not now—
The putting out of Eyes—
Just Sunrise—
Lest Day—
Day’s Great Progenitor—
Outvie
Renunciation—is the Choosing
Against itself—
Itself to justify
Unto itself—
When larger function—
Make that appear—
Smaller—that Covered Vision—Here—
19.5k
An adrift mind when your gaze meets mine
Yes I see it,
Those stealthy glances when the wind caresses
Yes I see it,
There is something in you waiting to come out
Yes I see it,
The contemplation between back to chest or chest to chest
Yes I see it,
The constant struggle with ****** renunciation
Yes I see it,
Desire unsatisfied devours the desirer
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 11:10 PM UTC
O Buddha, the gold vein of thy sermon of mercy ran through gloom-gorged, rocky hearts, and illumined their darkness.
Thou loftiest soarer of renunciation's skies, beneath thy God-lifted eyes, the kingdom of sense-comfort, the rivers of gross greed, the vast and lust-scorched deserts of desire, the tall trees of temporal ambition, the cactus plants of prickly world-worries—all melt into invisible smallness.
Buddha, the arc-light of thy sympathy sought to melt the hardness of cruel hearts. Once thou didst save a lamb by offering thyself in its stead.
Thy solemn thoughts still silently roam through the ether of minds, searching for ecstasy-tuned hearts. Seated beneath the banyan bodhi tree, thou didst make a solemn tryst with the Spirit:
"Beneath the banyan bough,
On the sacred seat I take this vow:
Let derma, bones, and fleeting flesh dissolve;
Until the mysteries of life I solve,
And receive the all-coveted Priceless Lore,
From this place I shall stir, never, nevermore."
Thou symbol of sympathy, incarnation of mercy, give us thy determination, that we may seek truth as doggedly as thou didst. Bless us, that we may be awakened, like thee, to seek remedy for the sorrow-throbs of others as we seek it for ourselves.
From: Whispers from Eternity
A Book of Answered Prayers
1949 Edition
4.8k
Though tried his level best, to pry open
the tough oyster with such might,he gets
just a glimpse of the smile of the pearl
so rare within. which clearly indicates
it's liking; love for light than darkness
But the oyster, so adamant, refused to part,
it jealously holds the pearl enclosed,within,
along with the bitter taste left in his mouth,
he learns a precious lesson, in the way worst possible.
A great one, from the oyster's closed book of life,
on possession and renunciation at right time,
managing frustration and letting go graciously.
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 10:29 AM UTC
Chloe's hair, no doubt, was brighter;
Lydia's mouth more sweetly sad;
Hebe's arms were rather whiter;
Languorous-lidded Helen had
Eyes more blue than e'er the sky was;
Lalage's was subtler stuff;
Still, you used to think that I was
Fair enough.
Now you're casting yearning glances
At the pale Penelope;
Cutting in on Claudia's dances;
Taking Iris out to tea.
Iole you find warm-hearted;
Zoe's cheek is far from rough--
Don't you think it's time we parted? . . .
Fair enough!
3.2k
sitting here in the cusp
of a greedy world
where each seeks something
only for own good,
i would rather have
a bouquet of goodies for
me and my folks
particularly as the new year begins,
i look back at the cosmic awareness
of knowledge seeking
ancient brahmins,
and get amazed at
the altruist spirit and
sense of renunciation, they
made a common daily practice,
that rang loud in chants
during elaborate rituals
of fire sacrifice
in ancient times.
one by one, putting an enormous collection of
offerings ; butter,variety
of sacred wood, flowers,herbs and grains
in to flames, with the accompaniment of
chants of benediction and good thoughts,
in unison, each one asserted in chaste Sanskrit:
"This is not for me"
"idem na mama"
with each offering.
the Gods could have any reason,
not to accept those offerings,
given away with purest of intensions,
that changed the ionic configuration
of the atmosphere, more beneficial to humans
by changing air, land and water, pure
and full of life force.
Jan 1, 2012
Jan 1, 2012 at 1:03 PM UTC
She still is the greenest tree in absence,
in my land of obliterated dreams,
the golden fruit my heart desired,
still hangs there, a phantom limb,
my mind hibernates,under the shade of
the banyan tree of renunciation,
still my battle is fierce,Buddha path
or tempting fruit of unquiet desires.
ബോധി വൃക്ഷത്തിലെ കാമഫലം
എൻറെ മായ്ച്ചുകളഞ്ഞ സ്വപനങ്ങളുടെ ഭുമിയിൽ
അഭാവത്തിലും പച്ചച്ച മരമാണവൾ
എന്റെ ഹൃദയം മോഹിച്ച സുവർണഫലം
ഒരു 'ഭൂതാവയവം'പോലെ അതിൽ
ഇപ്പോഴും തൂങ്ങിക്കിടക്കുന്നു !
നിരാസത്തിന്റെ ആൽമരത്തണലിൽ
എന്റെ മനസ് ഹേമന്തനിദ്രയിൽ.
ഇ പ്പോഴും എന്റെ പോര് തുടരുന്നു ;
ബുദ്ധ പാദം പിന്തുടരുകയോ ,
അശാന്ത മോഹങ്ങളെ തേടിച്ചെന്നു പുണരുകയോ?
(MALAYALAM translation)
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 9:30 PM UTC
my mind is not mine I cannot see
I’m held within a cage of lost liberty
my days are not my own
them seem to be controlled
by people far too wealthy I'm told
my nights are filled with dreams
that warn of time fleeting
of heart ripped and torn
a body that longs to dance airborne
and move to express itself
with no one to approve or ignore
I look with admiration
at dolphins presentation
of joyous jumps and gleeful communication
and see their lives free of limitation
as a talisman of my renunciation
with closed eyes I lie still
and look behind to see all that fills
alone and all one
my chains are broken
and on the cliff edge
I jump
to be awoken
Sep 17, 2016
Sep 17, 2016 at 7:05 AM UTC
527
To put this World down, like a Bundle—
And walk steady, away,
Requires Energy—possibly Agony—
’Tis the Scarlet way
Trodden with straight renunciation
By the Son of God—
Later, his faint Confederates
Justify the Road—
Flavors of that old Crucifixion—
Filaments of Bloom, Pontius Pilate sowed—
Strong Clusters, from Barabbas’ Tomb—
Sacrament, Saints partook before us—
Patent, every drop,
With the Brand of the Gentile Drinker
Who indorsed the Cup—
1.2k
I paid homage to Beauty’s altar
Not conscious that is only skating-rink or…
“Downhill ecstasy.”
And still ignorant: how is possible,
Than good God leaving us at pray of Beauty,
Which paralyze those, who sacrifice own fate.
And I fell astonishment and grief
That life is a line of renunciation
Steady expose on suffering our tender senses.
Finally, punish that way: showing others suffering
Whereas ours are just sentimental tears…
Where is the Beauty
Which affect and same time sublimate ones?
Where is the place for
What fills our self
And leave deep inside emptiness …
Who’s going to judge this?
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 12:47 AM UTC
"Look at me sweet light, come make my inner eyes yours
light me up, I am the universe, spanning light years across
galaxies of desire and the renunciation at altissimo, the peak
disentangle the strands, liberate, to my abode let me go back
How long I've been sitting in meditative wait, for your caresses
for that divine touch that'd trigger ecstasy in multiples"
My journey is recorded in shades
of light and darkness, it's essence
returns to the flow eternal, dissolves.
I am the remembrance of nights
colored by sad, pale, soft moon light
that keeps watch to million secrets
preserved in double helix, passed over as
codes that keep on telling stories from
time immemorial,still kept safe within,
which is my zen 'kon' to contemplate
and erupt in enlightenment, my right.
I am melancholy light, driven away
when sea blue drinks sun at last, liquefied,
every tree top then one'd find covered
with fire flies that play an orchestra,
in an ascending wave, touching
the acme,then comes down rolling and dies.
We lived in a land of unimagined beauty
only a bit of it our conscious mind receives
that anointed us all it has, rain and wind
fog, ice and sleet,the warmth of summer,
remember the way winter made us tenderly
shiver together, as if we are explorers of a
world,we created and dissolve as we return.
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 2:52 PM UTC
Partied by a daylight not worth receiving
The lighted archways of judgment
Beam down on your skeletal appearance
Urging a break away from some monumental collapse
A ragged dolls face
Stitched on the body of a human waste receptacle
Your bruises and burn scares
The missteps of your creation
Out of the depths of blackened fornication
Moonlight tones of a memory
An insemination that never happened
Carnal desires blunted at hello
Stitched at the seams
I know those are just beads in your eyes
Blankness recedes from the shore lines
Unveiling to yourself the residue of our indiscretions together
Briefly awarded the rank of general
Now collapsed into what we would not refer to as a person of distinction
Not a person of substance or quality
How would this concoction respond?
This ball of human anti-matter
This forgiven body of curses and regret shoveled
Slowly into some one else’s normal circumstance
Faced with complacency of this evil renunciation
To live another’s life
Pure banality
Pure monotony
Maybe I was bread for this
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 11:34 AM UTC
Moon callings spirited animals
wolves dancing
Dunhuang lute guitar -
playing to the soul of
a western screech owl
feasting on prey - long tailed shrew.
Gaspé mountains sheltered selves
under moonlight the coven amass
crisp autumn leaves, frost bitten toes
North standing
Novembers Mourning Moon.
Worshipping Isis -
Goddess of magic
the white tailed deer appears
shedding antlers amidst
this monthly Esbat rite.
At the alter a moon candle glowing
water bowl reflecting sisters souls,
white crystals & silver ribbons -
graced lunar symbols
to cede full renunciation.
*Gather gather as all women should,
the next Supreme is not beyond a dream.
The Witches Council meets beneath moonlight.
Tonight I light this candle,
& lift a water bowl to the night sky.
I call upon you all.
I call upon you all.
I call upon you all -
to accept the changing of your souls,
akin to the changes of the tide.
We cleanse our souls in unity.
Tonight, tonight, witches of Salem,
declare yourself...
Declare yourself!
The Supreme Witch - declare yourself.*
They fall to the cold slabs
ground, gravel, leaves, soil
silence falls.
One remains - the embodiment of all gifts
the One remains for eternal life against all ills.
The Supreme is named.
All women rise
dawn breaks
and the passing of the moon begins it's journey
passing into the suns glare -
unseen.
© Sia Jane
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 1:30 AM UTC
**Choosing between a witch and a vampire,
should have been a real dilemma, of course,
none among these two did he choose,
but a nun, to explore the path of renunciation**.
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 1:09 PM UTC
Wake up, her magnetism is perpendicular
Concentrate, renunciation isn’t an option
She coveted her beauty to be paramount
It may not lie adjacent, or acute, closed nor open
Yay, Nay, or,
A night, a century, dissolves from her
Shedding a seventh layer
Shedding the eighth
The understanding of such linear artistry proves to be facile
An acquittal, forthcoming
New art, new liberty
The acquittals continue to waltz
Like multiple grooves shaped by the sand
Into apples and cherries
Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 10:46 PM UTC
Power and military acumen to the mighty king
were the true weapons of conquest in his possession,
til the time marauding made him squirm with pleasure
went on his trail of terror, destruction and subjugation.
Many wars won;no bloodbath to this iron willed one
ever seemed different from any other, victory was routine
then came a rare moment of pause, a sudden bend
in the path of a roaring river,initiating change.
"It's time to put down this blood splattered crown
envy of others, but weighing me heavily down"
Frenzied, in no time he removed the thorny crown
and every bit that embellished him from head to toe
in naked glory he stood before the mirror, but why
couldn't he look for a long moment in his own eyes?
"All I see is an architecture of muscles, nerves and blood
on a skeletal frame, no different it is from any other
just lingering further, all one can see is dead matter waiting
to dissipate in to elements, when the time rings bell"
(words of his Guru, long long forgotten, came alive)
"The bird is bound to this cage,with elements for a time
in a flash, it would pass,where then is the bird's true abode?"
All the wars won, achieved only the creation of cycles of pain
countries taken over by brute force,women taken as trophy,
loads of gold, diamonds and riches; just footnotes of an epitaph
"To search and find what really matters, that transcends time"
was the famous last words, before the conqueror's renunciation.
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 12:27 PM UTC
Tonight is the night of renunciation,
O weary heart, shed that person
In tears and sobs—
For moon is weary carrying the grief of world
Wane her a little forgetting your woe tonight,
Tonight is the night of renunciation.
O perturbed heart, untie the hinged boat from
anchor and sail away from hopeless dreams—
For stars are burdened with undue hopes of men,
falling and fading from sky, reduce their weight
Bidding farewell to those memories tonight,
Tonight is the night of renunciation.
O innocent heart, love is despot, so end these grieving
for a person’s absence—
For the air is sick and sad sailing house to house
Lower her sadness abating your loss tonight,
Tonight is the night of renunciation.
O withered heart, saunter in the lawn this approaching dawn
Born anew, listen the chatter and flutter of birds,
For the sighs of lovers have turned their song melancholic,
Sing loud, O heart, return their gayness
For they’re not meant to suffer for our melancholy tonight.
May 14, 2019
May 14, 2019 at 3:52 PM UTC
Look, blow the horn!
Cry, gather together!
Take refuge!
Do not delay!
Lament and wail!
For the fierce anger
Of the Abosom have not
Turned back from you,
Be astonished, oh heavens,
And be horribly afraid,
Set up signposts!
For the broken calabash
Can hold no water
But a ****** blood,
Can anyone behold
Your great plagues?
Oh Africa, my Africa,
The fruitful womb under
Fierce eternal siege,
Do not look up to the West!
And thou shall be saved.
© PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI
Email: [email protected]
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 5:49 AM UTC
Refusing to be
healed.
A wound will stay awake.
Mired in bitter controversy,
the captain said―
the war was not a deliberate act of
atoning for the soul.
That prevents the sun
to come out after a long night.
You walk in the light years,
gaunt and dazed,
in pain of hunger. The words
hang in shame.
A city fails, for
another voice of verse,
in favour of renunciation.
Oct 22, 2016
Oct 22, 2016 at 8:04 PM UTC
I know that our efforts all come to nothing. Analyze life, tear its trappings off, lay it bare with thought, with logic, with philosophy, and its emptiness is revealed as a bottomless pit; its nothingness frankly confesses to nothingness, and Despair comes to perch in the soulI know the end of us all is nothing, I know that at the end of Time, the reward of our toil will be nothing — and again nothing. I know that all our handiwork and all our ideas will be destroyed. I know that not even ash will be left from the fires that consume us. I know that our ideals, even those we achieve, will vanish in the eternal darkness of oblivion and final non-being. There is no hope, none, in my heart. I know, No promise, none, can I make to myself and to others. No recompense can I expect for my labors. No fruit will be born of my thoughts. I know the time — eternal seducer of all men, eternal cause of all effects — offers me nothing but the blank prospect of annihilation. So, my dignity is broken and weak, in recognition of my impending defeat.
The man who is alone, who stands on his own feet, who is stripped bare, who asks for nothing and wants nothing, who has reached the apex of disinterestedness not through blind renunciation but through excess of clear vision, turns to the world which stretches out before him as a burned prairie, as a devastated city — a world in which no churches, asylums, refuges, ideals, are left — and says: «Though you promise me nothing I am still with you, I am still an atom of your energies, my work is part of your work; I am your companion and your mirror as you march on your merciless way. But I owe nothing to any one. I would be responsible to freedom alone.
Feb 15, 2024
Feb 15, 2024 at 8:39 AM UTC
Would you bear the cost
of peace, if there was
no war, no country, no
personal gods?
We are not talking about―
a retropain of recent past.
It was there when we―
started walking, and
discovered a superhuman being.
The crowd swells every day, and
a new religion crops up
every now and then.
There was no fatal crash.
It makes you rich overnight.
The money grows―
from the barrel of the gun.
I refuse to celebrate the victory.
Jan 18, 2017
Jan 18, 2017 at 10:55 PM UTC
There is only Love to Love
because Love has a pure mind
There is no word that recalls its antonym
for Love
because All words equal to Love
There is no duality in Love
Love embraces only
There is no renunciation in Love
No owning
No conditions
No sacrifice
No longing
because
Love knows
Questionless
Wordless
All actions as Love
because Love is
because you are
Jan 10, 2017
Jan 10, 2017 at 7:10 PM UTC
The veil draws ever clearer,
easier to see through,
but still like a mirror
I can see through and also see myself
I wonder if it reflects or just shows the truth
The veil draws ever thicker,
harder to get past,
but still like water
I can not go through
and I can only skim the surface
I wonder if it is a wall or only a window
The veil draws ever larger,
spanning a greater pass,
but still within reach
I can not go around it but I can touch it
I wonder if it guards forever or just until I leave it
The distance between myself and the world could hardly be thicker
I cannot contemplate coordinating careful countermeasures consciously
I could cleverly, cunningly, calculate and collaborate clear contingencies
But my mind makes my misery mighty methodically, minute by minute
And it renders rapid renunciation of ridiculous rhythm and rhyme rather reticent
What remains are repugnant renditions wrapping where real attempt once sat
The veil is upon me
closer than my senses,
I cannot get outside it,
but I can speak through it
I wonder if its helping or hurting
Apr 10, 2013
Apr 10, 2013 at 2:34 AM UTC