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"pagodas" poems
I see the beauty in a palm‑sized tomato growing afloat on Inle Lake— the one-legged fisherman silhouetted, perilous against his wooden boat, against the slow-setting sun. Thin echoes of beauty linger: hundred-year ruins, temples, stupas standing with pride, The culture of longyi worn with quiet delight. I took the train that loops through buildings, markets, houses, plantations— a city, a country shadowed by a darkness yet to reckon with its genocide. The cries rise, unacknowledged. “Mingalaba,” says a Burmese lady, her face painted with thanaka, the ground bark a pale mask in the sun’s scorching glare. She sits near Dyamayanggi Temple, a basket of snacks at her side, offering them with a smile. Joy comes chasing the sunset in the land of a thousand pagodas. A mystical climb, a striking landscape. I breathe, feel, wish to stay longer, soaked in twilight. For a fleeting moment, with eyes closed, I drown in the colours of the golden sky.
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Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 10:03 PM UTC
Golden Burma
ACROSS the flat and the pastel snow Two people go . . . . 'And do you remember When last we wandered this shore?' . . . 'Ah no! For it is cold-hearted December.' 'Dead, the leaves that like asses's ears hung on the trees When last we wandered and squandered joy here; Now Midas your husband will listen for these Whispers--these tears for joy's bier.' And as they walk, they seem tall pagodas; And all the ropes let down from the cloud Ring the hard cold bell-buds upon the trees--codas Of overtones, ecstasies, grown for love's shroud
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By The Lake
**In the shadow of Everest people are dying Crushed in a chaos embirthed from beneath, Emerged as destructor of temple and Taos, Emerged as an innocent killer... bequeathed. History crumbles as heavens roar mightily Ghorka is dead in an avalanche of rock, Beggars and potentates crushed  in the brickfall Dharahara’s fall leaves men gaping in shock. Shuddering mountains in avalanche of free fall Wails of the stricken as quaking defiles, Gold topped pagodas and statue of ancients, Sculpture of lions now a rubble in piles. Khathmandu in the clasp of calamity Nightmarish forces arisen from deep, Grasping the earth in their grip of profanity Monstrously tearing the bedrock from sleep. A techtonic ****** of Asia by India Nepal’s Himalayas ****** to the sky, Inconsequential, this plight of humanity Nature proceeds as poor Nepalese die.** M. ANZAC Day 25 April 2015
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Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 5:45 PM UTC
In the Shadow of Everest
Bells of gray crystal Break on each bough-- The swans' breath will mist all The cold airs now. Like tall pagodas Two people go, Trail their long codas Of talk through the snow. Lonely are these And lonely and I .... The clouds, gray Chinese geese Sleek through the sky.
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Bells Of Gray Crystal
Bells of gray crystal Break on each bough-- The swans' breath will mist all The cold airs now. Like tall pagodas Two people go, Trail their long codas Of talk through the snow. Lonely are these And lonely and I .... The clouds, gray Chinese geese Sleek through the sky.
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Bells Of Gray Crystal
Goodnight anthropocentrism— Mitochondria swim in your stardust But Contraverse awakens on the Frontiers of the Valerian Kingdom At the gnarled staff of the Oil Sage Taking root between the Earth’s furrows Springing forth fountains of sweetest Nard The Jewel of Jatamansi emerges glistening green In it the eye of the beholder finds the Seeds of a once forbidden dream Germinating in the juices of this Gem Out of it the silent roar of a thousand fields pressing Aromatic oceans through bursting buds Of Lavender pagodas rapturously trumpeting forth Framed by stacks of soft sweet musky Sage Broad and leathery like elephant’s ears Curtained with a soft cascade of Orange blossom snow The sweet kiss of Neroli on your brow Imbibing the senses with paralyzing pungency Tangling tendrils to heartstrings And pulling us beneath Rosewater pools Floating breathlessly ensconced in a dream Primordial songs whispering wordlessly, “Wake whenever you’re ready . . .”
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Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 5:11 PM UTC
The Jewel of Jatamansi
It starts with a girl hunting in the storm. The sky pours a torrential flood. The air cackles with the smell of ozone. Spirits dance and curse over distant pagodas on rows of lone mountain peaks, scales of a great dragon. She follows the cold flashes of light, Until she is only shadow. (In the distance, a woman’s voice wails) It starts with a girl, Arrow notched, string taunt, Hands steady, and water on her hair, her face, her lips, On the callouses of her fingertips. She meets the glowing ember eyes- Thunder booms, A tail, a grin, splits in two, A whistle and a deafening thud. It starts with a girl, Who lets a fox live.
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Oct 12, 2020
Oct 12, 2020 at 6:14 PM UTC
Part 1: The Hunter
The first snow is falling in Borimsa, a quiet temple at the foot of Gaji Mountain, as we stand near the two stone pagodas that silently standing side by side. "Oh, the first snow! And I'm here with you...," you said.   I smile. Because I remember all you've said about the Korean saying... The first snow is falling in Borimsa, as the true love starts blooming in two hearts.   Inside the temple, the Buddha's statue is waiting for two hearts to pray in quiet words, and send the love song through the gentle wind to the eternity. -Kanya Puspokusumo- http://doeniadevi.wordpress.com 1. Borimsa, one of the oldest Korean temples on Gaji mountain in Jangheung-gun, Jeollanam-do, South Korea (about 300 km from Seoul). The temple holds great significance as the first Zen buddhist temple during unified silla, built in the 9th century. 2. In Korea, there is a saying that if you are out in the first falling snow of the year with someone you like, then true love will blossom between you.
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Nov 25, 2017
Nov 25, 2017 at 1:45 AM UTC
THE FIRST SNOW
Like a small bird gathering bright objects for her nest, I am gathering life. Hands which reached out to me lead me on, so I left at their bidding for an ocean in the East. Traveling through the night as if lost in a waking dream, I came at last to her proximity and slept in an unknown room. In the morning light, beyond the highways, I suddenly saw her, all April morning blue and still. Ocean water bathed my feet, rinsed the crystal beads and pearls I had worn to greet her. Deep in the woods now, I see temples everywhere. In the woodland light, some churches are. Pagodas of bark and moss in the filtered light, Ice caverns blue and still begin to melt beside the waterfall that thunders down, breathing mist in our faces, garlanding itself in rainbow light. In the small city airport I am folded into the arms of my mother-of-pearl. Salt water flows easily from my eyes - like the sweet nectar filling my mouth. "E facile per le farfalle di volare, sai." I walk out into the grey-wet airfield, screaming sounds of engines. Walking forward, I close my eyes, and the world is only light. Now, I have come back to you, with marzipan, and peacock feathers, and stories of my adventures. The light blazes, and the stars send down their song. The Universe is singing.
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Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 10:05 PM UTC
Universe
A wraparound escalier Rosette's to wrap ourn Dud's Rebels to society Low and high class thugs Epicurean phenomenon!!!! A Cosmo's to macroism's Plasma to holy force Phatom's of ourn own opera As yen to take its course Homage to ourn own castle!!! Excretion to bare ourn name Wild gluttons Barbarian untamed Spelling eachother's name In hieroglyphic memorandum!!! We shalt travel beyond old Egypt We shalt gun the pagodas We shalt peep the shrines of gosha As in giants we shalt become!!! A convent well maketh many babies Basilica's of the angels Seraph's of treaties Shalt we sign ourn admiration in blood? Tis Yes Tis Love!!! Kirks to keep ourn reme mberance Friary's to be attentive As the mutuality Shalt be sweet mine aimer!!!! No distance shalt be to far No rancor to blow ourn hearts No hot mustard to stain out tarts As Madrid shalt wrap us between acacia posie's!!!!
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Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 11:17 AM UTC
ακακία τυλιγμένο (Acatia wrapped) greek tongue
Life is so beautiful Last night I had a dream I died I have never been afraid of death But when I awoke... Death is not to be feared, I thought For it is the only constant, The only guarantee But upon my blue eyes squinting open... I glance and peer at this magnificent dimension Immediately overtaken with joyous energy For the Earth has blessed me this day! Priveleged to be here, now, Smelling the sweet air of blossoming Pagodas. Peering through the looking glass of my soul, I unveil a kaleidoscope of colors and emotions. For the Heavens have blessed me this day! Rememberance of everyone before me, I live today for you, I will take your place, Replenish Gaia, For we are her children, Oh, how I love you blessed life, And I shan't ne'er take you for granted.
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Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 11:15 AM UTC
Awakened
What do you do when you’re alone Feel the necessity to indulge in something A drink or a cigarette Always blowing away the ****** in swirly smoke Or downing your business deals in **** Maybe if it’s your birthday You’re still alone Probably because you’re a businessman You may occasionally take hashish trip And imagine yourself on a minaret There are plenty You could choose the one of the three Pagodas That resemble the Taipei 101 Or the CN Tower If you’re looking for something modern But after your escapade of solitude you need a routine for your return
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Sep 9, 2017
Sep 9, 2017 at 12:39 PM UTC
The Businessman