a noob's spiritual poetry

TheJourney

I've always thought I would be good at poetry, and my horoscope even says that I would be, but i've never really tried it. Anyways, I know absolutely nothing about poetry but I figured it would be fun to try to make some spiritual poetry. This is my first attempt at a poem, like, ever, so don't be too harsh but let me know if there's something about poetry I should know which I apparently don't.


All things are changed
Situations rearranged
But what keeps it moving?
How can impermanency
Continue so permanently?

There is a stillness
You may call it utter bliss
The nature of this
Is chaos and transience

So there is the all
The transcendent
Through which all things hear its call
Eternally in flux
Its nature not changing at all

TheJourney

Here's my second attempt lol

Can you feel this moment?
Will it stay with you
Without your having to hold it?

To this moment there is no end
No beginning, just what is
Nirvana, the kingdom
It’s not ours, but his

This is what they say
But I know what’s true
Heaven is today
But I think you already knew

[DeletedUser]

With compliment from a composition of melody - :rocker:

nuageux

It's not bad, especially for a first attempt. I don't think there's any right or wrong way of writing poetry, but some would disagree.

sndymorn

I like this noob

From a fellow noob and poetry fan

federica

Well, it won't win the booker prize, but as long as you're happy, what does our opinion matter?

aHappyNihilist

should be through which all things hear their call not its call lol
also some meter would help the general sound, i still liked it.

Jeffrey

This is a good practice to formulate words. You can offer the merit for the inner communication to your practice or all beings.

Jason

I used to think I was good at writing poetry, but not so much anymore. I still think it can be fun, though. Here's one of the few Dhamma-related poems I wrote called "......."

Alone?

Are we ever truly not alone?
If a self is assumed, then how can we ever be as one?
A self is separate from other.

As one?

Are we ever truly not as one?
If a self is not assumed, then who is there to be alone?
But self, by its very nature, is.

Is what?

Ephemeral? A useful fiction?
Perhaps self itself is a sleight of hand too quick to catch;
A phantom bent upon a goal.

Perhaps.

I ask myself, Why am I here?
I answer back, Who is this 'I' I am seeking to define?
What is there worth clinging to?

Nothing.

Life is only a series of events.
Happiness and sadness forever arising and passing away.
If 'I' and 'mine' do not apply:

.......