Sign in to follow this  

Divine Love Poetry

Recommended Posts

Tired of my scatological concerns, Cam suggested I check out some contemplative poetry to ennoble my thoughts a bit...


I had always assumed that all the good stuff was Islamic but actually that's not necessarily the case.


It turns out that the Christian poets had been pretty tight lipped so they wouldn't get their heads chopped off by saying something nice about Jesus or something crazy like that, but not that the inquisitors are dead, translators like Daniel Ladinsky have re-hydrated their thoughts to great effect, imo.


Check out Teresa of Avila:



How did those priests ever get so serious and preach all that gloom?


I don't think God tickled them yet.





Or St Francis:



Such love does

the sky now pour,

that whenever I stand in a field,


I have to wring out the light

when I get





From "Love Poems from God" by Ladinsky. (Great book, btw)

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites



Here is one Jeannie wrote I like.


For the moment

your bones

are clothed in flesh.




Let's dance

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

Beautiful, Yoda :)


I don't know about 'divine', but how about these from the Sixth Dalai Lama:


'I incline myself

To the teachings of my lama

But my heart secretly escapes

To the thoughts of my sweetheart'


. . . . . . . . . . . . .


'Even if meditated upon,

The face of my lama comes not to me,

But again and again comes to me

The smiling face of my beloved'


. . . . . . . . . . . . .


'If I could meditate upon the dharma

As intensely as I muse on my beloved

I would certainly attain enlightenment

Surely, in this one lifetime'


. . . . . . . . . . . . .


Oh, and guess a topical one for all you bums ;)



'Never have I slept without a sweetheart

Nor have I spent a single drop of sperm'


. . . . . . . . . . . . .




Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

Also, Jeannies 8 year old daugher, Sophia, has written a poety book, Wild Child poetry. I havent met her, but Jeannie considers her 8 year old daugher one of her teachers, on par or even more so than Pamela Wilson and Adyashanti(her main teachers).


Check it out!



wild child poetry

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites



The Great Sixth! I need to put a list together. I'm in the process of designating a bookshelf just for poetry and spiritually related philosophy but not for practices... sort of a change of vibe there.




Bless your heart with love and vacations. That was very cute! :)


I've never heard of Pamela Wilson before, I'll have to look her up.



Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

"Song VII


There is a glow in the sky; soon he will be rising in the east.

Now on my balcony falls a ray from Fu-sang

I touch my horses and gently drive

THe night grows pale; now it is broad daylight.

He harnesess his dragon-shaft, rides on his thunder wheels,

He carries banners of clouds that twist and trail.

But he heaves a great sigh, and when he is about to rise

He cannot make up his mind; he looks back full of yearning,

Chiang! Beauty and music are things to delight in!

He that looks lingers, and forgets to go on his way.

The zither-strings are tightened, drum ansers drum.

The bells are beaten till the bell-stand rocks.

Sound of flute, blowing of the reed-organ;

A clever and beautiful Spirit-guardian;

Lightly fluttering on halcyon wings.

Verses chanted to fit the dance,

Singers who keep their pitch, instruments in strict measure;

The coming of many Spirits covers the sun.

Coat of blue clouad, skirt of white rainbow,

I gather my reins and my chariot sweeps aloft.

I take up my long arrow and shoot at the Heavenly Wolf.

Then draw toward me the Dipper and pour out for myself a drink of cassia

And bow in hand plunge into the abyss,

Am lost in mirk and darkness as I start on my Journey to the East."


Word Brother Preach It,



Edited by Spectrum

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites



To Atthis


Though in Sardis now,

she thinks of us constantly


and of the life we shared.

She saw you as a goddess

and above all your dancing gave her deep joy.


Now she shines among Lydian women like

the rose-fingered moon

rising after sundown, erasing all


stars around her, and pouring light equally

across the salt sea

and over densely flowered fields


lucent under dew. Her light spreads

on roses and tender thyme

and the blooming honey-lotus.


Often while she wanders she remembers you, gentle Atthis,

and desire eats away at her heart


for us to come.


--Translated by Willis Barnstone




Come back to me, Gongyla, here tonight,

You, my rose, with your Lydian lyre.

There hovers forever around you delight:

A beauty desired.


Even your garment plunders my eyes.

I am enchanted: I who once

Complained to the Cyprus-born goddess,

Whom I now beseech


Never to let this lose me grace

But rather bring you back to me:

Amongst all mortal women the one

I most wish to see.


--Translated by Paul Roche


Top of page

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

From Love Poems from God, Here's Tukaram:




I think

the moon is pregnant again.


I hope she won't sue

me this







What part of heaven did she come from?

That angel talked like a sailor

and she was dressed enchantingly



I can't even repeat the things she said,

or picture once more the shape of her body.


Though I know one thing,

My fear of dying has







We are too shrewd to trade something for nothing.

Death to the ego--trading down--are you a madman?

No one kicks a good lover out of bed unless they know they got

two more on the way over.






I could not lie anymore so I started to call my dog "God."

First he looked



then he started smiling, then he even



I kept at it: now he doesn't even



I am wondering if this

might work on






And from his life: One day Tukaram playfully said to his close ones, "God is becoming jealous of the earth's love for me and He wonders if I would mind retiring from being so cute." Tukaram then informed his wife that God would be sending a taxi for him tomorrow and did she want to come. She declined saying, "Who would take care of our beautiful cows the way I do?" The next day Tukaram invited some close ones to walk partway with him toward Bhandara. About halfway he stopped, held their hands, and kissed each person, then walked off alone and was never seen again.

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

As the mirror to my hand,

the flowers to my hair,

kohl to my eyes,

tambul to my mouth,

musk to my breast,

necklace to my throat,

ecstasy to my flesh,

heart to my home --


as wing to bird,

water to fish,

life to the living --

so you to me.

But tell me,

Madhava, beloved,

who are you?

Who are you really?


Vidyapati says, they are one another.

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites
Sign in to follow this