The Three Spheres IV
Birth,
Rebirth, and
Metamorphose.
poem by Atef Ayadi
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Ode to Rebirth - Cross Century Surgery Operation
voila! if rebirth is a fact and
time travel is mastered
you can always request
at the cross century
surgery theatre, your first human birth
eyes, second birth eyebrows
fifth birth nose, cheeks,
eighth birth shoulder blade, and
the fusion of fifth and eight birth sexes
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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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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Rebirths
Once dead, the album of memory is dead.
A rebirth given cannot resurrect it.
Without memory carried over
The next birth cannot be a rebirth.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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For Every Child...
be there not a star
for every child that's born?
and is every birth then,
not the rebirth of redemption?
is every life then not a journey,
from Gethsemene to Golgotha?
a thousand tiny deaths,
that bring salvation and hope!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Beast in Humans
It hisses inside like a serpent
spitting its venom of hate,
giving birth to vengeance
spattered by blood and death.
The serpent of hate, the
birth and rebirth of vengeance,
gives no room for peace,
no room for forgiveness.
And the kingdom of the beast
is recoiled by the serpent
that hisses without rest.
And the venom spreads darkness.
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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Researching of Your Rebirth
None of it has been rehearsed.
The researching of your rebirth.
Every detail of it has been lived.
And moments of it,
You had felt neglected and cursed.
No steps first awakened,
Came with ease.
No temptation tasted,
Lasted to please.
Few you met...
Had souls complete,
Of truth and honesty.
Although you held onto the myth...
Everyone you knew,
Was born with a goodness,
To free joy and happiness...
Within them existed
None of it has been rehearsed.
The researching of your rebirth.
Every detail of it has been lived.
And moments of it,
You had felt neglected and cursed.
From the moment of your first birth.
Now on a path of enlightenment.
Accepting reality as it is meant.
Freed from beliefs that decreased as you grew.
Comprehending this,
Increased your higher consciousness.
And you realize the clarity before your eyes.
None of it has been rehearsed.
The researching of your rebirth.
Every detail of it has been lived.
And moments of it,
You had felt neglected and cursed.
But what has been revealed...
At first may hurt.
Until acceptance heals!
To allow the growth from a stunting to bloom!
Waiting for you to decide to give it room...
To rise above and beyond,
Limitations of despair that keeps one teased.
Dedicated:
In honor to Maurice D. Robertson
who celebrates his continual 'rebirthing'
October 7th
'Happy (re) Birthday, Maurice.
'JazzBo'. lol
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Life Is A Circle.
It isa circle, from birth
To death ending up in cries,
Of arrival and departure,
The soul may even go round
In cirle frm deat to birth
In another for the cycle
to continue as believed
In the eadt as per
Our deeds entering
The cycle like animnals,
Birds, other beings,
Keeping the soul in tact,
So we must be careful
As per the myth to do
Good deeds only,
To rebirth again as humans,
Though to be battered
By our own emotions,
And suffer through human life cycle.
Ravikiran Arakkal
poem by Ravikiran Arakkal
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The greatest wisdom
The rich food, once eaten, will be out.
The desire, once met, will be lost.
The great fun, once had, will be gone.
I stopped giving any value to them.
It is the wisdom I have acquired late.
The birth itself is a bubble to burst.
Not craving rebirth is the greatest wisdom.
08.10.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Birth and rebirth
Birth and rebirth
is nothing but poles apart,
without one, the other is dead.
The growing moon
peeps from beyond the night sky
slowly enhancing itself in gradual appearance,
A birth is about to take place
soon.
A full moon.
The waning moon
hides itself beneath the night sky
slowly enhancing itself in gradual disappearance,
A death is about to take place
soon.
A dark moon.
©cyclopseven. All rights reserved.
poem by cyclopseven Ram
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Rebirth
As is wont with all beings,
I foresee
a dark cloud descend on me,
to free this soul
from the bondage of being;
to be born again,
in some form, somewhere.
I pray O Lord; and be kind
to release this soul from the bind,
of birth and death and birth again.
If rebirth be thy command,
let this soul meander
through the cosmos;
amazing and awesome as it is;
and settle on some such planet,
where deceit is not practiced
and envy is banished;
where minds communicate in trust
and intentions are not doubted;
where love and not lust pervades
and truth subsides in its air.
I have faith O Lord,
Thou have carved such a niche
in thy cosmos.
Is it heaven! Isn't it so. [2012]
The Wheel Of Time
The wheel of time is like a giant clock
in this circular physical world
and its spokes are the second,
minute and hour hands that
continuously seem to move within it
and propel it forward in one direction
as perceived through the hub of our awareness
which witnesses the recuring phenomenon
and flux of life in its various stages of
birth, youth, maturity, old age and death.
What of the afterlife and rebirth then?
poem by George Krokos
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Soul Is Not Slain
Soul is like air or heat
And dissolves in life.
Body slain, soul is not slain.
Soul is a part of life,
Which has no birth, no death.
No rebirth, no salvation.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Refreshing Light
Daylight is breaking through
Treading softly as the horizon glows
It’s the new birth, rebirth for a day
One setting the sound and wondrous
The warmth that flows the sweet scents
The drip from frost and chill of night
The spindle of curiosity that changes
Ocean waves and romantic decadence
Where beautiful arithmetic flow from
One breath of life again; sighs of relief
One more day to journey through.
poem by Bradley Flowers
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128
Always dissatisfied with what one has,
The power of nothingness
Engulfs
Whatever you also engulf
Or take as a possession,
What comes into you
Goes out of you and everything
Goes in there only to
Go out later,
There is nothing you can hold,
It is simply meant that way,
The flow
Life, birth, life, death, rebirth,
And then back to Nothingness
Unless you believe
In something Else
To cling to
Like a moss to an old stone
Albeit,
The stone rolls just the same
In an ancient flowing river
Then while here
We do not really know
What happens
There are many stories
That the bird outside us
Cannot yet sing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dissatisfied
Always dissatisfied with what one has,
The power of nothingness
Engulfs
Whatever you also engulf
Or take as a possession,
What comes into you
Goes out of you and everything
Goes in there only to
Go out later,
There is nothing you can hold,
It is simply meant that way,
The flow
Life, birth, life, death, rebirth,
And then back to Nothingness
Unless you believe
In something Else
To cling to
Like a moss to an old stone
Albeit,
The stone rolls just the same
In an ancient flowing river
Then while here
We do not really know
What happens
There are many stories
That the bird outside us
Cannot yet sing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Death is sleep
The night does not weep
That it is about to die
When the Sun is about to rise,
Unaware of its rebirth though.
In my case I weep
That I am about to die
When the time comes
Despite the faith in rebirth.
Death is a long sleep.
Sleep is a short death.
Memory lives after the sleep
Memory dies after the death
01.04.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Yes
Untie the knot, patriarch,
the broken kiss was
intimidating.
The backhoe picks up the
devil, it was within you
when you were casting stone
at the fear.
The pagan was covered
with leaves
raw and pailful;
belief in a thought
was not working,
think, man think.
The system,
the birth of rebirth of sorrow
was the tragedy.
The shaper,
I am, still wandering
to find the words.
Satish Verma
* After reading the massacare of 57 people in southern island of Mindanao, Philippines on 23rd Nov 09
poem by Satish Verma
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Birth, Death, Rebirth
Television news reports
a friend’s brother has died
I telephone his home, a stranger’s voice -
then my friend says “hello”
we reminisce his brother’s adventure -
sharing sadness; laughter; tears
A TV special about our universe depicts the birth,
death, rebirth of stars, planets, galaxies
Christmas cards - with photos
of families; past year stories
new babies; friends leaving
Outside the window - frozen shadows,
serpentine outline of nude shad tree
a tree with white flowers - each spring until last
Nearby, two heated birdbaths
quench thirst, give life
as I write, a squirrel’s paws patter
across roof above
I pause …………………. ponder
cyclical process of passage
existence of emotions
depth of each breath
then I finish giving birth
to this poem
poem by William Waterway
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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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Squirrel my little friend!
I watch your jumps from tree to tree
with that bushy tail
And your song I try to understand
If I write this way
Is it okay?
Man raises his bony hands and questions
from the dumb sky of his future?
Sky's helpless as she cannot stop the clouds
that wander here & there?
Man tries to hide his wealth in the river
But river flows to the sea ever?
Man sketches his sky scrapers
But nobody stays here and his offspring
fly everywhere when they grown up
Leaving the old sick parents there?
a humble dedication to my poet friend Narain j.p!
A Buddhist faces death not as a crisis in life but as a normal event, for he knows that whoever is born must suffer, 'decay', and ultimately die. Or, as someone so aptly puts it, 'Everyone is born with the certificate of death at his birth.' If we could all look at death such an intelligent and rational way, we would not cling to life so tenaciously.
'Ayamantima jatinatthidani punabbhavo'
This is my final birth and there is no more rebirth for me.
(Dhamma Cakka Sutta) . -The Buddha
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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