As our attention softens, bliss beats rise,
from a centreless fulcrum at our core,
ego recedes, we cease to weigh and size,
as God’s blessings continue to in-pour,
of which our vibrant presence keeps no score.
Dwelling in the heart we slowly evolve,
in surrender, with no problems to solve,
for we have entrusted God with life’s task,
thus we stand still as illusions revolve,
witnessed as in divine light we so bask.
The world is like a city in the sky,
conjured as it were, by the will of God
and immersed therein, each soul seeks to fly,
engaged in lust, giving not love a nod,
suffering needlessly till heart has thawed.
When vibrant emptiness becomes the norm,
we’re impacted not by destiny’s storm,
recognising earth life as but a dream,
with the laws of God choosing to conform,
in blissful rapture atop love’s moonbeam.
Ego-mind an instrument for our use,
that helps us to navigate this terrain
but it is from our heart where bliss does ooze,
so we view ego cravings with disdain,
slowing down thought, that mind we may retrain.
With thoughts rested, wayward ego thins out
and we rest in awareness free from doubt,
humming a verse, one with the universe,
viewing life as a dream going about,
divine aligned with no need to rehearse.
The Moulin Rouge at Night
At night, the Moulin Rouge bursts into life
with orchestrated music and bright lights,
where singers and cancan dancers excite
audiences who applaud them with delight,
and is a splendid place to patronize
for entertainment when in Paris, France,
where, by happenstance, people may unite
seeking merriment or discrete romance.
***
Hiranyagarbha or the cosmic egg,
e first in duality created,
womb of creation, within which we beg
for enlightenment that’s long awaited.
God’s seed is everywhere replicated,
so He is in us and we are in Him,
which we know not since our soul’s eye is dim
but if we are still we can recognise,
the light that lights all lights, as a bliss hymn,
transforming our heart and making us wise.
“This will be my last life”, the monk exclaimed,
“I’ll not be coming back to earth again.”
Such words but speak of tempests not yet tamed,
defeated by life, bound to ego’s chain,
viewing God’s gift of life with marked disdain.
Aversion is in fact worse than desire,
fears best consigned to the funeral pyre,
easily done if we dwell in monk mode,
there being no object which we aspire,
dwelling in peace, tranquil heart our abode.
He who neither knows nor cares to discern,
the underlying truth of existence,
mistaken he’s this form, is doomed to burn,
in fires caused by his ego’s resistance,
yet refusing to take God’s assistance.
For such a person, this earth life is hell,
suffering under wayward ego’s spell,
though at any moment he can be free,
if addiction to desires he does quell,
making his heart pure, blissful and carefree.
“In the fall, I believe again in poetry...”
— Jaakko A. Ahokas
When September comes through heated breezes,
sunflowers watch droll dragonflies duet
to tunes of melodic taunts and teases
of Autumn's promise to pay Summer's debt.
A bright season greets us without regret.
Behind is buried under yesterday
and tomorrow is waiting for its say.
Joyful is this moment in Nature's arms
when time suspends until it finds its way
and ripe Autumn casts its bountiful charms.
“Imagination hones our thoughts to soar
above the ordinary ones that bore.”
_by Poet
Imagination is a special gift
that silently directs how we will live;
directing inner visions which may drift
into creations we can share or give.
These are refined within a mental sieve
into creative feats, most times through art.
For poems, paintings, and good music start
from mind's imagination passed to soul,
and reinforced by feelings in the heart-
from just an inner blur to something whole.
We’re seeded as one, polarised as two,
hatched from the cosmic egg, then truly born,
feeling in heart, each and every bliss hue,
that thus in timeless time ego is shorn,
whence light of Self is the glow we adorn.
Having been, seen and so known who we are,
eternal light, shining like the North Star,
what’s imbibed must be assimilated,
else we’ll continue playing below par,
feeling as yet from God separated.
Unbroken awareness of light of Self,
seeing God in all objects manifest,
no residual desires on our shelf,
in midst of movement, poised always at rest,
vagaries of fate laughed off in light jest,
the liberated soul always feels whole,
as a non-doer in his ordained role,
radiating love and light at all times,
holding firm focus thus, his only goal,
heart’s rapture rising betwixt bliss beat’s chimes.
Maya, the veil we may call illusion,
is differentiated perception,
which believing real is delusion,
sensory inputs causing deception,
conditioned belief and preconception.
As long as we believe we’re body-mind,
cravings of ego grip us in their bind,
freedom from which requires a shift to heart,
love enabled, with all mankind entwined,
eye single, whence our God-search quest can start.
Waking, dreaming, deep sleep and transcendence,
are the four domains which we navigate,
for which placing on God our dependence,
the pure of heart having no need to wait,
we instantly ascend to heaven’s gate.
Each state interpenetrates the other
but if fire of desire does not smother,
then the brave soul sails on, each breath reborn,
carried in the arms of Divine Mother,
transformed as living light that ushers dawn.
The gong Om encompasses existence,
which we may call God’s first emanation,
melding with which there remains no distance,
since all that is, is in this vibration,
encompassing His entire creation.
When we are graced by Divine Mother’s kiss,
in stillness we recognise we’re all this,
meaning whatever is contained in space,
that as an eternal flame, drenched with bliss,
boundaries blur; we see God face to face.
When the light of Self is fully ingrained,
moment by moment in our waking state,
we are from all limitations unchained,
conjuring as we like, our preferred fate,
yet with no agenda we wish to state.
Our wish is God’s command as requested,
with intent instantly manifested,
there being absolutely no delay
as we look on, in cave of heart nested,
making magic we weave seem like mere play.
Looking deeper than boundaries of skin,
we recognise God’s light in every form,
as light eternal, deep in heart within,
as the vital force which keeps bodies warm,
field of love and light, with which we conform.
God then is the source, that lights every light
and this knowing bestows spherical sight,
that thus both immanent and transcendent,
suffused with rapture of bliss beat’s delight,
we see in each form, God luminescent.
Specific Types of Dizain Poems
Read wonderful dizain poetry on the following sub-topics:
christmas, friends, funny, kids, love, music, nature, school, sports
and more.
Definition | What is Dizain in Poetry?