In the next birth
IF I ACQUIRED the menacing form of an
alligator in the next birth,
I would want you to cling tightly to my persona as my serrated green
skin.
If I was born in the ominous form of the jungle tiger in the
next birth,
I would you to be incorporated in my body as my domineeringly
authoritative growl.
If I was born as a densely foliated tree in the next birth,
I would want you to be the perennial leaves that emanated from
my silhouette.
If I was born as an opalescent fish in the next birth,
I would want you to be saline water in which I could sustain life
and swim.
If I was born as the twin horned sacrosanct cow in the next birth,
I would inevitably desire you as the milk I would diffuse from
my flaccid teats.
If I was born as a slithering reptile in the next birth,
I would want you to be the lethal venom I possessed in my triangular
fangs.
If I was born as an obnoxious donkey in the next birth,
I would want you to be my hooves which swished indiscriminately
at innocuous trespassers.
If I was born as perpetually blind in the next birth,
I would indispensably want you to be my eyes to guide me
towards dazzling light.
If I was born as being disdainfully maim; bereft of feet in the next
birth,
I would incorrigibly want you to be my legs to ecstatically leap
in times of jubilation.
If I was born as a rustic spider with a battalion of arms in the
next birth,
I would want you to be mesmerizing threads of the silken web
which I inhabited night and day.
If I was born as an inconspicuous mosquito in the next birth,
I would want you to be the sting existing in my bifurcated tentacles.
If I was born as a agglomerate of sinister clouds in the next birth,
I would want you to be pelting sheets of rain tumbling down on the
scorched ground.
If I was born as a traditional dancer in the next birth,
I would desire you to be the jingling chains riveted to my anklets.
If I was born as a voluptuous chameleon in the next birth,
I would want you to be the band of colors that I changed according
to my habitat.
If I was born as a scintillating oyster in the next birth,
I would want you as the jugglery of immaculate pearls
impregnated in my belly.
If I was born as a solitary camel in the blistering heat of desert,
I would inevitably desire you as barrels of pellucid water to
placate my thirst.
If I was born as drummer performing at concerts in the next birth,
I would want you as the drum which would be essential for the
sound to propagate.
If I was born as the most opulent on the globe in the next birth,
I would intractably want you as the notes of currency; which
I possessed in exorbitant capacity.
If I was born as infinite blades of emerald grass in the next birth,
I would want you to be the fertile land mass of soil to provide
me tumultuous loads of nutrition.
If I was born as the frivolous monkey in the next birth,
I would want you to be my claws; facilitating me to clasp tree
branches in a vice like grip.
If I was born as an ambivalent filmmaker in the next birth,
I would want you to be every film that I directed in my reigning
tenure.
If I was born as a tantalizing rose in the next birth,
I would want you to be my everlasting fragrance.
If I was born as a mundane ceiling fan in the next birth,
I would want you to be my riveted blades; circulating exuberant
draughts of air.
If I was born as a boisterous honey bee in the next birth,
I would want you to be the sweet nectar I produced from my
catacombed body.
If I was born as an inconspicuous nail hung to the wall; in my
next birth,
I would want you to be the peels of rust I acquired on my body.
If I was born as the fibrous fruit of apple in the next birth,
I would want you to be the cluster of seeds impregnated in my belly.
If I was born as an indigenous woman in the next birth,
I would overwhelmingly desire you as the contemporary man
from the city.
And if by the stroke of chivalrous fortune; I was born as a man
again in the next birth,
I would want you to be the same girl; whom I loved immensely today; existing on this earth.
(c) (r) copyright-2004, by nikhil parekh. all rights reserved.
poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Related quotes
Womb to womb to tomb
I am born unto this womb
To be born again unto another womb
Before I take birth once again unto another womb
Then as mark of respect
A tomb shall man place on that womb
To remind the world
That this day a man
Was, born unto this womb.
Before another birth I seek
To live another life in another womb
In the seas of life I shall swim
Before I am once again ready
To take birth unto this womb
To be born again unto another womb
Before, I take birth once again to be entombed.
©cyclopseven. All rights reserved 290108.
poem by cyclopseven Ram
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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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Happy b day
Happy birthday Triauna
Today is a great day
The day my girl was born
Monumental occasion
Sound the horn
New born child cute as a button
Dem other babies culdnt say nuffin Literally the truth is all I say
Throughout the years
You made each and every day
Thats just who you are and how you roll Always warm heart never cold
As you open your gifts
Just remember this
Your birth day only comes once a year Every day feel like my birth day because I know you here
The gift you give is priceless
Yet every day the value increases
Second most important born right after Jesus
Brings me back to my thesis
Happy birth day Triauna
poem by Martin McCollugh
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On My Birthday, July 21
I, MY dear, was born to-day--
So all my jolly comrades say:
They bring me music, wreaths, and mirth,
And ask to celebrate my birth:
Little, alas! my comrades know
That I was born to pain and woe;
To thy denial, to thy scorn,
Better I had ne'er been born:
I wish to die, even whilst I say--
'I, my dear, was born to-day.'
I, my dear, was born to-day:
Shall I salute the rising ray,
Well-spring of all my joy and woe?
Clotilda, thou alone dost know.
Shall the wreath surround my hair?
Or shall the music please my ear?
Shall I my comrades' mirth receive,
And bless my birth, and wish to live?
Then let me see great Venus chase
Imperious anger from thy face;
Then let me hear thee smiling say--
'Thou, my dear, wert born to-day.'
poem by Matthew Prior
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Born Knowing
a rare few
are born
knowing
knowing
pre-birth
meeting
memories
of before
birth born
life spent
remembering
knowledge
reality
purpose
pre-birth
life line live
remembering
purpose timing
poem by Terence George Craddock
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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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He Was Born In Ussr
He was born in USSR
At the hospital there
At 5: 30 am
And that was the time that his mother gave birth to him
But I remember that she said that giving birth was very hard
And I can say to that
Thanks God that men don't give birth
Because I don't think they would want to go through with it
Knowing that there is pain in giving birth to a baby
But when he was 13 he moved from USSR to United States
So that he could get a god education
And a good job in his life
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Born To Be Loved By You
Borne again.
Because have you at just being borne again.
At last I feel that Im alive and more.
This is the moment Ive waited for.
Born to be loved by you.born to be loved by you.
Born to walk with you.born to talk with you.
I was born for you.
Born to be with you, only you.
Born to be loved by you.
Born for you, born for you baby.
Born for you, born for you baby.
Born for you, born to be loved by you
(you and only you) born to be with only you.
I look at you and all at once I know that dreams come true.
For there you are the other part of me.
I have found my destiny.
Born to be loved by you.born to be loved by you.
Right or wrong for you.weak or strong for you.
Faithful or untrue
Born chained forever and far beyond.
Born to be loved by you and only you
No one else will do.
Heart and soul,born to be loved
Born to be loved.born to be loved by you.
(you and only you,born to be with only you)
Born for you.born for you baby.
Born for you.born for you baby.
Born for you, born for you baby..
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Born
He did his schooling
When I was not even
Born.
He passed his graduation
When I was just born!
He came to this world
Much before I was born.
Yet when he writes,
Every poesy of his
Smiles with the innocence
Of a new-born!
With every poetry,
He dons a new birth
And exudes the freshness
Of a baby born!
It's true
Mental age
Has nothing to do
With chronological age.
Physically,
He may be
Old and fragile.
But mentally,
He's strong and agile.
Mind in action like
The stormy gale -
Raining poems on us
Like sleet and hail...! !
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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On Pedigree. From Epicharmus
My mother! if thou love me, name no more
My noble birth! Sounding at every breath
My noble birth, thou kill'st me. Thither fly,
As to their only refuge, all from whom
Nature withholds all good besides; they boast
Their noble birth, conduct us to the tombs
Of their forefathers, and, from age to age
Ascending, trumpet their illustrious race:
But whom hast thou beheld, or canst thou name,
Derived from no forefathers? Such a man
Lives not; for how could such be born at all?
And, if it chance that, native of a land
Far distant, or in infancy deprived
Of all his kindred, one, who cannot trace
His origin, exist, why deem him sprung
From baser ancestry than theirs who can?
My mother! he whom nature at his birth
Endow'd with virtuous qualities, although
An Æthiop and a slave, is nobly born.
poem by William Cowper
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Life's Beginning
When does life begin?
Some say at conception
Others say at birth
For me, life began
The moment I met you
Before we met, I existed
Alive but not living
Then you changed all that
Simply by saying hello
Some animals are born blind
As I was to the beauty all around me Then you and your love opened my eyes and made me see
As in any birth, there was some pain
We both shared our pains with each other
Pains that would soon be replaced
By the joy of a new love being born
And where there is love, there is life
poem by Harry J. Couchon Jr
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Born But a Little Child
He who spoke the world into creation
He was born but a little child
With love so meek and mild
His birth brought the world a new elation
Was born to die to save all the nations
He was born but a little child
With a precious glowing smile
Was to become the church’s foundation
He was born but a little child
To reclaim the fallen world for His own
He was born but a little child
He came that true love, through Him, could be known
He was born but a little child
To take on our sins, and for them atone
((May 31st,2003))
poem by Danny Speicher
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Numbers
Its stranger how some numbers
keep recurring in our lives.
At first, we do not notice it
until one day we think of them.
Our date of birth, houses numbers we have lived in,
our children’s birth date
and our brother or sister’s date of birth.
When you look at them
and one number seems to readily appear,
you begin to wonder if that number
has some bearing on our lives.
The number linked to my life is number 8.
I was born on the 18th,
in Canada the house I grew up in was 28
and my sister was born on the 18th.
Moving to England our house number was 62.
When my wife and I got married,
our first house was 24,
our second house was 18
and our present house number is 107.
My wife’s birth date is the 8th;
my son was born on the 17-8-71.
Everywhere I look the number 8 just keeps popping up.
Coincidence I guess you could call it,
or is there something else a foot.
I will just let you the reader to decide.
3 September 2009
Author’s note.
The evening I wrote this, my wife went out, was talking to someone, and mentioned how the number 8 always appeared in our lives.
Coincidence?
poem by David Harris
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Immanuel
God with us Immanuel
came down with man to dwell.
For a virgin has given birth
to the Son of God upon the earth.
All the prophets born of old
of the the Saviours birth had foretold.
God incarnate He would be
and from all sin will set us free.
Baby Emmanuel On Christmas Day
A Lamb of God is born tonight,
And sleeps upon just hay;
The boy must Shepherd flocks to light.
Be King on Judgment Day!
He chose a manger, poor and cold;
The earth He made hadn't room!
‘A Virgin gave Him birth, ' we're told,
He is the world's Bridegroom!
Shepherds by fire-side were first,
To have a glimpse of the child;
They worshipped Him for He was Christ,
Though born both meek and mild!
A star atop the stable stood:
A sign of kingly birth!
For mankind's sins, yet, die, He would,
To give us endless mirth!
O baby Jesus, born today,
'Come dwell within my heart! '
'You are the light and truth and way,
Be with me, don't depart! '
poem by John Celes
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With Or Without Certifiable Documents
Birth certificate aside.
When did one's birth certificate,
Qualify them with competence?
And those who have them...
Why has the importance of having one,
Not as of yet assisted in providing proof...
Anyone seeking another's evidence of being born,
Impresses with an accountability they have not shown.
Even taking responsibility for their own actions commited...
Are blamed on someone else!
Birth certificate aside.
When did one's birth certificate,
Qualify them with competence?
Or excluded them from an honesty,
That has been truthfully with a blatantness deceived...
With or without certifiable documents.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Christmas 2007 Song – 11
‘The Star of Bethlehem’
Appeared a star anew in East,
And brought three Magi to the West;
It meant the birth of great a king:
A rare phenomenon on earth!
On camel-back, the wise men came
To King Herod but knew his game;
The Star of Bethlehem stood still
O’er manger, where Jesus was born!
And Angel-choirs with trumpet sound
Sang, ‘Gloria, in excelsis deo! ’
New joy and peace was born on earth
Through baby boy ‘Emmanuel’s’ birth!
A savior had been born for men!
And all could surely reach heaven!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 12-21-2007
poem by John Celes
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Unless A Man Is Born Again
Nicodemus knew that Jesus was a teacher, who had come from God,
For no one but He could perform miraculous signs he said with a nod.
Nicodemus himself, was a seeker of The Eternal Truth of Almighty God,
And believing in The Word, he was lead by Christ's staff not His rod.
He said unless a man is born again he can not see The Kingdom of God,
Instead of His Mercy they will receive His Justice through His Rod.
These things were much too lofty for the natural mind to comprehend,
Man can not see The Kingdom without The Spirit who Christ would send.
Again unless a man is born again he can not enter The Kingdom of God,
Instead he shall be judged on this earth, where his feet have trod.
For our present body is sinful corrupted flesh that can not enter in,
But your incorruptible body is prepared once you become born again.
Surely one cannot enter his mother's womb to be born a second time?
Nicodemus asked, as he didn't understand, this birth is to be Divine.
For Flesh gives birth to flesh, but the Spirit gives birth to spirit,
And The Spirit is like the wind that you can't see but you hear it.
The above is not from man, but was spoke by Jesus our Lord and God,
Yes, Jesus is The Christ forever and will be using His staff and rod.
You, like Nicodemus can be led by Christ's staff to The Truth of God,
Or continue in unbelief and face The King of Glory and His iron rod.
(Copyright © 04/2003)
I Was Not When You Were Born, You Were Old When I Was Born
I was not when you were born,
You were old when I was born.
You regret that I was late born,
I regret that you were early born.
I was not when you were born,
You were old when I was born.
I wished to have been born together,
We could enjoy our time together.
You were not when I was born,
I was old when you were born.
I was so far away from you,
You were so distant from me.
You were not when I was born,
I was old when you were born.
I’d become a flower-seeking butterfly,
And sleep on the fragrant grass every night.
poem by by unknown author
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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birth (Motherhood)
a child born with closed eyes
it was a new beginning of my life
people think a child is born
but ask me, i know a mother is born
people say that mother is precious gift of God
but ask me a child is God himself in her arms
before my child's birth my life was beautiful
but after his birth my life become precious
these are simple heap of emotions - people say this
fools! they don't understand the pleasure of being a mother
its just the same, when you see the diamond you praise its beauty
but when you own one, you come to know how precious it is!
- Pradnya
poem by Pradnya Pahurkar
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