An Ode to Meditation

Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing.

Benjamin Franklin

I sat, cross-legged like a monk
Preparing for his session
Of mindful meditation
In the comfort of the park.

I begin to close my eyes
Whilst bringing focus to breath
Of body, and that of earth
Out of which grow the lotus.

Deeply, i start to inhale
Gathering all the tension
In my lungs till retention
Of air i fail, so exhale.

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Oh meditation! the guide
Into the realms of my soul,
Teaching me better control
Of my emotional state.

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Oh meditation!

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Are you aware how i feel
When my thoughts begin to clear
And i start to lose all fear,
Being tuned into what is real?

Oh meditation! I feel;
The light breeze cooling my skin,
The warmth of rays from the sun,
That my scars begin to heal.

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I sat, cross-legged like a monk
By the ocean at sunset.
Waves crashing into feet
That are accustomed to walk.

With a mantra in my mind
And strong intent from my heart
I loudly begin to chant
To the rhythm of the west wind,

That blows distant sounds my way.

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Oh meditation!

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You blessed me with the present
Of practicing my presence
So i could grasp the essence
Of the now present moment.

Oh meditation! my thanks
For opening my chakras
And for reducing my stress
Levels from more to less.

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© 2019 The Poets Peace 

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The Poets Prayer

It’s not about how hard you can hit; it’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward.

Rocky Balboa, Rocky

Our father
Who art in craft
Grand be thy power
To transcend time
In mind
As in canvas.

Grant us today
Our creative skill
And wash away the will
Of our writers block
So that we may make metaphors
That do not against us trespass.

Lead us into
The realms of imagination
So that to the masses
We may deliver inspiration.

For thine is the word
That personifies our verse
Forever and ever,
Amen.



This content , ‘ The Poets Prayer ‘ is under copyright of The Poets Peace.
Lazarus Shatipamba
© 2019 The Poets Peace

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Image by Couleur from Pixabay

The Lonely Loner

Image by pixel2013 from Pixabay

the lonely
loner
is a stoner

that treads the skies
with a
mental boner

knowing
he will be bolder
when the time comes
to move a boulder.



the lonely
loner
is a stoner

that gets older
the less
he is sober

so that
there are times when
he can beholder
what's behind borders.

all he wants is
to grow older
with not a large
burden to bare

but the masses
do always dare
him to conquer
the mighty air

so that his eyes
are fixed on lies
bluer then the skies
that in disguise
they fed to us
as pleasant pie.

they did label
him a rebel
when he in trouble
did find himself.

they did call him
but a stranger
when from danger
he stayed away

they tried to hire
all his anger
when he did shun
their efforts to
be fine rangers.


the lonely
stoner
is a loner

that treads the skies
with a
mental boner

knowing
he will be bolder
when the time comes
to move a boulder.

the lonely
stoner
is a loner

that is sober
the more
he is older

so that
there are times when
he can beholder
what's behind borders.


I

You can never cross the ocean unless you have the courage to lose sight of the shore.

Christopher Columbus
I am the wind that blows.
The river that flows.
And the mind that knows
How all this really grows.
Born from nothing
I permeate everything.
From the essense of your ring
To that of bees that sting.
Never made,
Hence i will never fade.
Though made into a blade
I will certainly degrade.
Out of time i stand
So my dreams never end.
Even when buried beneath sand
I am able to transcend.
I am the hand
That shapes the land.
The lad that does not understand
The concept of being grand.
My breath, stirs the trees
That sway with graceful ease.
Though i may be on my knees
I know i shall never cease.
I am the wind that blows.
The river that flows.
And the mind that knows
How all this really goes.

Lazarus Shatipamba

© 2020 The Poets Peace