Cyclic Destiny
birth
life
death
a cyclic destiny
that flows through
your veins
your blood
your soul
birth
life death
a cyclic destiny
that never ends
poem by Zia Jaycee May Trent
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Related quotes
destiny
It was my destiny to die,
and no matter how much you try,
it is everyones destiny to die,
no matter old or young,
death will break the needle on which you're life is strung,
death cares not that you're in love,
death will push you death will shove,
till you're life is on the edge,
then death the sealer of you're destiny,
will steal you're soul,
and let you be,
for it truly is our destiny,
no matter how hard it is to see,
to live to die to simply be.
poem by Annabell Callest
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Love Written In Passion Blood
love is written in warm passion blood
life is written in lust stirring flow blood
union is written in rich soul merging blood
blood in all union gift birth children born
blood bled in surge birth new life
blood corrupted death end finale life
blood love warm pure pumps renewal
blood flesh pierced sword's blade
blood climatic performance act ends
blood in taste of virgin experience death
contradiction the birth of life the birth of death
music cosmic soars at moment of conception
a moment seals love passion or life rape ripped
life poem writ contains such complexity such depth
lucky are lines life focus love given in glad glee read
glad for startling insight thoughts reflections merry
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Death and Birth
Death leads to birth rather than birth, to death.
Birth is close to death and not vice versa.
Every birth is at the result of a death.
Death to birth, not birth to death, is the path.
The death of clay is the birth of a pot;
The death of the pot is the birth of clay.
Ice melts to water and water forms ice.
In each conversion, occur death and birth.
The death of a night is the birth of a day;
The death of a day is the birth of a night.
New Year means the death of the old year too.
In each transition, takes place death and birth.
The death of a seed is the birth of a plant;
The death of gametes is the birth of an embryo.
Salts die to form cells; cells die to form salts.
In each growth, form death and birth of matter.
The so called death and birth is nothing but
Deaths and births of forms made of matter.
The matter itself does not die to be born
But is converted to different forms.
Elements disappear to form plants.
Plants as food add to the animals’ flesh.
Plants and animals on death liberate
As elements, serving through worms and germs.
When a child is born, there’s no birth of life.
The embryo transforms into a child.
When a man dies, there is no death of life.
The body disintegrates to salts.
Matter, energy and life have no death
They have got one birth since when they’ve been.
They interact and come different stages
In which the pattern is death and birth.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Fighting Death
Death follows birth; does birth follow birth?
Birth to death, journeys have ups and down.
What is the status between death and birth?
Why must you fight death if no-rebirth is bliss?
(15.03.2011)
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Why Death
tell me why you fear death,
you call it the end.
an enternal void of no escape,
a pit of pain and sorrow.
quit showing such ignorance an fear,
cowarding in a corner as you cry,
'please leave me be death.'
how it sickens me.
everything has a beginning and an end,
life begins with birth,
and ends with death.
so tell me why death is allowed to be enternal,
when birth is so short.
poem by Sebastian Awa
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Same Destiny!
In life's journey
Death is the destiny for all
As birth begins all!
poem by Ramesh T A
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It's Death Again
It's Death again - He's always there -
Watching, waiting - e'er the stare!
Every time I look behind
Or reach to pull the window blind,
I catch a glimpse of grubby hood -
A little clue to where he stood;
The glint of light that caught the scythe.
Perhaps if I could pay a tithe…
But O! no use, he'll never go.
The adamant phantom; don't you know
He will but wait until it's time
For me to hear His fateful chime? -
The toll that claims my destiny,
To Hail: 'You're next, it has to be…'
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
The Reign of Death
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Sad Wings Of Destiny
Mournful, yet grand is the destiny of man. Believing he can look destiny in the eye, without so much as flinching. And only after having swallowed the seeds of fate, did he find, they grew into hate. Making what was once water to the faithful, turn to nothing more, than blood, before the eyes of an unbeliever. Of all that man has been, or in his vanity, may come to believe, destiny, after having granted his wishes, also gave him more than he perceived. For only by the work of his own two hands, could such suffering be achieved. Leading him to fight against his destiny, even though, he had no hope of victory. Like pantomimes of white, on a background of black, his destiny, appears as a silken thread, lost in an endless labyrinth of time. Never knowing, only death transforms life into a destiny, for only death has no need for time. Having denied love, he sealed his fate. Unable to find the meaning and never seeing the truth of life, that it may only be found with another, but not alone. Fear, merely encouraged his ignominy and transported him to the nether world, where he will at last, take his final flight, on the sad wings of destiny
poem by Eric Paeplow
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Birth and death
.
Death is certain for birth.
Is birth certain for death?
Post-birth is pre-death.
It is like go around and return.
Post-death is pre-birth.
It is like stay and remain.
Birth and death is better
Than no birth at all
23.09.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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No individual soul
Which- the soul or body-
Is the cause of one
To be holy or lowly?
Which- the soul or the body-
Is the cause for the king
To down and the traitor to crown?
Which- the soul or the body-
Is the seat of genes
That transmits features?
Soul and body are co-born
Ever since when life was born.
At no stage, be birth, embryo,
Zygote or gametes that fuse,
Was the life born for the soul
To enter the body at birth,
And part at death.
Death is no more than
A death of a twig of the tree.
28.12.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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In Death, My Final Part
A tower grim; a glowering darkness,
And only brown of red the other hue
– I saw it in the distant eyes –
And yes, He knew, but focussed only
On the mortal soul of mine –
After all, He had a role to play,
And wine: my shivering blood to quaff!
If only I could Him betray –
To break the seal of destiny;
Escape the lone cacophony
That emanates from wailing minds!
Damn the fate of His – it awes and blinds!
But oh! the mighty hammer strikes a toll;
The slow approach of Him upon the knoll
Commences exudation of a dying heart.
Endorsing all, I honed my final part.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
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The final part
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Love
Love is sweeter
than the sword’s blade.
Love is warmer
than chill interstellar space.
Love is more pure
than the taste of virgin bride.
Love is the birth of life
at moment of conception.
Blood is the birth of life
Blood is the birth of death.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Death And Birth
Death and birth should dwell not near together:
Wealth keeps house not, even for shame, with dearth:
Fate doth ill to link in one brief tether
Death and birth.
Harsh the yoke that binds them, strange the girth
Seems that girds them each with each: yet whether
Death be best, who knows, or life on earth?
Ill the rose-red and the sable feather
Blend in one crown's plume, as grief with mirth:
Ill met still are warm and wintry weather,
Death and birth.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Slit the wrist and let it flow.
Hate and pain, feelin’ it in my veins.
Hate and pain etched in my mind.
Love and hate are all the same,
Life and death are all our problems, but you treat them as there mine.
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Life and death are all the same in my mind.
Life and death are all the same,
Play with fire and get burned.
Accusations flying my way, will they ever stop?
Slit the wrist and let it flow.
Slit the wrist and let it flow.
Life and death are all the same.
Life and death, when will it end?
Anger and frustration all boiling to the top.
Vengeance and Violence seems to be the only way.
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Life and death, it’s all the same.
Life and death, is it my turn yet?
Death is living again.
Death is bliss I will never discover.
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Life and death, it’s all the same.
Life and death, a new fire is born.
Death is an eternal fire being blown out.
Death is being free from the shackles of life.
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Life and death, it’s all the same.
Life and death, it’s our destiny.
Death is the only escape.
Death is the forth stomach of a cow.
By Ariel Morris.
poem by Ariel Morris
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Of Birth And Death
Of birth and death,
life is but a cross-fade.
A tinge of meaning,
painted to the trembles of my tendrils
as the soul of each encaptured emotion.
The aumkara of the first voice of the universe,
fumes up in my crevices.
With the smoke of ashes,
the wisdom of soul
smothers my ambience.
In the receding mist
of the unscribbled unclarity,
as I open my eyes-,
flown with the wind,
I find me gone…
I take birth,
in each bubble of fatality.
And I die in the sublimation,
of each vibration of music…
of every birth and death,
life is but a cross-fade.
poem by Sarvesh Kulkarni
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Shroud of Destiny
Destiny
A foretelling
Your purpose in life
Stray away
Must not
Follow your dreams
Disregarded
Only one path
Destiny provides
At birth
Failure this
Concept is
Truth be told
Many paths
Lay in front
Hiding in the
Shroud of destiny
One purpose
One goal
One path
In life
No decisions
For you only the stars
Decide
poem by Tommy D'Attore
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Travel My Soul
You can look into my eyes and travel
It to the depths of my soul
A beauty which will never grow old.
I will not only tell you I love you
I will show you I love you.
Follow the pulsating blood through my veins
Taking you to my soul.
Once in my soul you will see, that the love
We have for each other, was meant to be.
You’ll see the fireworks exploding in my heart
As you would a shooting star across the sky.
For this love would never die.
My love courses through my veins
Like the rivers that course thru the lands.
The beauties are enjoyed by everyone
Wanting to touch it and travel its never ending course.
But you are the captain of this ship
And you can go to any destiny your heart desires.
Travel my veins to my head, just so that you can see
My thoughts, emotions, my memories.
As the stars are to the sky, the moon to the earth
The sun to the land, giving new life birth.
You are the days, the nights, the food to my soul
And you are the one, that I long to hold.
If you tire of the travel and would like to
Give my heart a test.
I will be there, to put your heart to rest.
poem by Louis Rams
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Tis Destiny
Though many may see it in a different way
'Tis destiny in our lives that does have the say
Our life journey our journey to destiny
To fame and to riches and to poverty.
'Tis a fact that the greatest are mortals and facts never lie
And from the day we are born to the day that we die
Destiny on our lives a huge part does play
'Tis destiny decided that I pen this today.
Many who believe in life choices will tell you that your life journey you decide
Those who ignore that you need to have luck on your side
They see your station in life as of your making not of circumstance
And they scoff at any mention of destiny or chance.
The town's wealthiest person in his fiftieth year was buried today
'Twas cancer he died of in a slow painful way
This was not of his choice of that most would agree
A slow painful death part of his life's destiny.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Imaginary is birth and death.
Dust turns into plant,
Plant turns into animal,
And animal, dust.
Thus matter is cyclic,
No end, no beginning.
Where’s death or birth?
15.03.2000, Palakkad
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Disingenuousness
Here lies another box for nature,
Carbon ready;
Black to eyes down here,
Where death is at its job.
Up there you’ll hear a rhythmic sob
Or two from living yet-to-dies –
A humming lacrimoso –
It all but cleans the eyes:
Forget it –
The dismal show of grief –
Life is only chemistry –
Our stay is only brief.
It’s we who hype it up!
Diaphragms jerk again;
The jet monotone of hearses
Feeds the disingenuousness
Of undertakers –
They seem to stare at something up ahead –
For them, it’s in the blood,
To taxi off the dead.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
The March of Death
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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