"samsaric" poems
No my pet, I may not be a poet; stung by the existential consternation,
inflicted by giant manta rays, magnificent devils in this sea bed,
*I just try to escape its effects, by exorcising
Samsaric demons with my mantras of love*
Aug 31, 2012
Aug 31, 2012 at 7:21 AM UTC
Where reverent suns are red,
I inhale a golden sun and hold the moon,
Floating in a cosmic centered bath
Dancing in ablaze of space,
Communing with sentient splitting stars
naked I have roamed among
ravenous red fire flowers in bloom,
lips, juicy sweet ardent wet fervours
Earth spinning, my dance be illusion,
To his kisses I forever weaved magenta trees,
Breathing earth’s day of vermillion,
Chasing samsaric robes, torn in
confusion, I grasp egolessness,
How I flickered black and white to and fro
The immortal swordless in his arms,
the awakened watcher in sky robes,
Yearning for star fields,
yet poisoned by the darkest snake,
Whispering, whispering,
his hallow raptures of
“Love”
─ © Arnay Rumens / A Sol Poet Ju. 112014
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 4:47 AM UTC
I have been the Buddha
heavy-lidded, bald
refusing the world
access to me
I have been the Buddha
leaning against the tree
of wisdom and duty
and all-surrounding beauty
I have been the Buddha
rejecting the body of me
rejecting the body of you
nearing the body of all
I have been the Buddha
re-entering where I left
tumbling around in a clothes-dryer
ridding myself of samsaric moisture
I have been the Buddha
bereft of kith and kin and kind
soaking my toes
in the enjoyment of nothing
Bonaventure Saptel
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 11:39 AM UTC
The Evolution of Sophomores
Poor sophomores like polliwogs within
Their small Samsaric Sea do swim about
And seemingly without purpose or point
Startled by shifting shadows or loud noises
But polliwogs in time absorb their tails
Then grow their legs, and hop ashore to eat
Mosquitoes, moths, and flies and dragonflies;
Sophomores acquire their driving licenses
And seemingly without purpose or point
Do drive about their small Samsaric Sea
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 3:32 PM UTC
Others seem happy,
Youth— beauty caged alone,
Torment of mirrors.
Jan 20, 2013
Jan 20, 2013 at 4:17 PM UTC
The purest form of grace I know
Is shown in vows forged long ago;
A bodhi mind aspired to save
All beings caught within the wave
Of grim Samsara's round of birth --
A mighty Vow that shook the earth;
While from the heavens flowers fell,
That fluttered to the deepest hell,
And dharma fragrance even there
Perfumed the dark and hopeless air;
Then devas, men and hungry ghosts --
In every realm these countless hosts --
Saw piercing their Samsaric night
A dazzling and unhindered Light,
And heard these words: 'Would you receive
Rebirth in Bliss? Then just believe
In My resolve and power to save
All beings from Samsara's wave,
And say My Name, My Name alone,
That at the end, when life is done,
I shall appear before your eyes;
(You have My word that your demise
Pertains to but conditioned things);
Your bodhi mind shall rise on wings
To Sukhavati's blissful shore,
And Namo Amitabha ever more!'
May 27, 2019
May 27, 2019 at 2:27 PM UTC