Best Buddhas Poems
A wounded animal retreats to the scrub,
where anything worth saving lives.
It licks wounds inflicted by a wicked, wind-whipped world.
Filled with big stone faces, unsmiling.
The wounded animal re-emerges with a perfected limp.
One eye missing, the one that viewed the cruelties.
Fur matted by fingerprints, uncaring.
Hunger and anger are its only remaining God.
In time, everything transforms.
The rotten freshens.
Eye sockets fill with colored stones.
Ugly will beatify.
The angry limp becomes an exotic floating blossom.
That only exiled Buddhas and black cherubs dare recognize.
a
gentle gust of wind
from
the
sacred wings of
the
owl moth
extinguishes the
candlelight flame
with
its
bamboo wings
inside
the
Buddhas temple
Kandy Perahera
Geschmückte Elefanten im Lichterglanz
Zu Ehren Buddhas
-------------------------------------------------------
Kandy Perahera
Decorated elephants in bright light
In honor of Buddha
-------------------------------------------------------
Kandy Perahera
Decorado elefantes en brilla luz
En honor a Buda
________________________________________
Note: The Kandy Perahera in Sri Lanka takes
place in August and is a "must" for tourists to the
island. Decorated Elephants and dancers honour
the "tooth of Buddha" which is usually guarded
in the "Temple of the Tooth"
The love of Ganesha....
Born upon the branches of the Monterey cypress', ucalyptusly turning leaves
Joyfully displayed reflections this retros, predominant vanguards of the times
Preceptencies vibrantly rainbowic colours; renditions aside the sea
Peace signs embracing the Eastern world of Katmandus, serenities scene....
A spectacular renaissance of Victorianly vaulted venues; splendours
Painted hearts upon smiling faces so arrayed amid, these Cathedrals dreams
Flowers of divinities delicate epigraph flowing gently through, a totems breeze
Upon their way towards the Golden Gate Parks celestial celebrations, wherein
The militant Magi meets, the brightened Prince of Peace....
Ribbons and bows of Isalms ideals meshed beneath, a Buddhas tree
Adorned by Imagines precursed writings from, Lennons visionary keys
These, Egyptian teas with their green leaf beads and
Kissing doves of iconics love, less, such still framed ironies....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
....Haight Ashbury ~
The dawning day is like an open door
for voyagers adrift in living stream
to waken from the dream asleep no more.
When out of slumber’s seas we’re cast ashore
and consciousness resumes its heady beam,
the dawning day is like an open door.
With dialectic feet upon the floor
the thinker frames a philosophic scheme
in lieu of wakening asleep no more.
Stargazers, poets, let their fancies soar
into the realms beyond what things may seem,
for dawning day is like an open door.
Though myriads divinities implore,
within our being lies the path supreme
to reach awakenment asleep no more.
Deep wisdom handed down from ages yore
can teach us of enlightenment’s true gleam.
The dawning day is like an open door
to waken from the dream asleep no more.
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * *
Inspiration was derived from the following writing by Nichiren Daishonin…
“The ordinary people, who inhabit the nine realms of dharmas, are wholeheartedly immersed in the sleep of the unenlightenment of not wanting to know. They are drowned in the dream of living and dying, as well as having forgotten what the wakefulness of the enlightenment of the original state is all about. They cling at all costs to what is going on in the dream. And they stray from one darkness to the next.”
~ Nichiren Daishonin (1279)
From ~ “A Collation of the Layers of the Various Teachings of all the Buddhas of the Past, Present and Future as to Which Specific Doctrines are to be Discarded or Established” (So Kan Mon Sho) ~ translated by Martin Bradley
[See site at dharmagateway.org]
This writing has also been translated as ~ “The Teachings Affirmed by All Buddhas Throughout Time” (Sokanmon Sho)
“Common mortals of the nine worlds are asleep in the mind’s innate delusion. Lost in a dream of the sufferings of birth and death, they forget the reality of original enlightenment. Attached to the rights and wrongs within their dream, they move from darkness into greater darkness.”
~ Nichiren Daishonin (1279)
There are rights and wrongs, or so it seems,
in the most outlandish fancy flights.
When we’re asleep even in our dreams
there’s an awareness of wrongs and rights.
Yet are they the same for all of us?
Perhaps in our deepest inward core
far off from frivolity and fuss
there’s a source profound that knows there’s more…
To thyself be true, ‘tis said, but what
is self– a semblance that dwells within
behind a door that is often shut
amidst the incessant daily din?
We gaze at the stars but lack insight
into inner realms that shape our fate
through mindless passions that we ignite,
then realize too little too late.
What wisdom can save us from ourselves?
Could guidelines showing which path to take
lie in ancient books on dusty shelves?
Our future destiny is at stake.
Drowning in darkness, blind to the way
of where our true devotion belongs,
we drift unseeing through night and day
clinging to relative rights and wrongs.
Lost in the dream of our mortal plight,
we’re fast asleep in delusion’s spell,
innate, along with enlightened light.
Will humans awaken? – time will tell…
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * *
The inspiration for the poem is from the writings of Nichiren Daishonin, in particular, the writing called, “A Collation of the Layers of the Various Teachings of all the Buddhas of the Past, Present and Future as to Which Specific Doctrines are to be Discarded or Established”…
http://www.dharmagateway.org/chapter4.htm
http://www.dharmagateway.org/
http://www.dharmagateway.org/why_we_recite.htm
Nam Myoho Renge Kyo means to devote our lives to and found them on (Nam[u]) the Utterness of the Dharma (Myoho) [entirety of existence, enlightenment and unenlightenment] permeated by the underlying white lotus flower-like mechanism of the interdependence of cause, concomitancy and effect (Renge) in its whereabouts of the ten [psychological] realms of dharmas (Kyo).
Here is my teacher,there flies my teacher
One who taught me to be higher the Reacher
Do not lose hope she said,For morrow
Strive hard and walk through every borough
Might you be, what I was, that today
Forget not,I fly with wings above the airway
What they call,she said,really doesn't matter
What you is what you become is the charter
Might you be an ugly,crawling,torny worm
Get in the cocoon,straight and still without a squirm
Don't be gloomy,she said,never mind the bully
They will brick you,stick you and make you feel silly
Might you be calm and hundred Buddhas to come out,
come out fly away with vibrant colors crying aloud,
And lastly she taught me this,
For my life to be an endless bliss,
You will receive nothing you want,
But you will receive everything you need,
Here is my teacher,there flies my teacher
One who taught me to metamorph to change for better.
oh, the immaculate red lotus
the queen of flowers
the seat of buddhas
tell me, this grown-up foetus
the secret of your excellent status
in spite of the trotting trend
that you grow in the muddiest pond,
in the stinking ground
oh, the flawless red flora
the crown of vegetation
the seat of buddhas
how is that neither mud
nor the filthy fluid
from which you derive your nourishment
touch not your tender petals
nor corrupt your fragrance?
The following is my poetic/liturgical translation of the Heart Sutra:
The Bodhisattva Avalokitesvara,
Whilst in profound Prajna Paramita
Saw illume the void of the five skandhas
And prevailed over all pain and peril.
Sariputta, image and void differ not,
Image is void and void is image,
So too sense and thought,
Conduct and consciousness.
Sariputta, the manifold dharmas
Are void and neither arise nor cease,
Are neither defiled nor pure and neither
Swell nor dwindle.
Thus, voidness has no image ; no sense,
Thought, conduct and consciousness.
Without eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body or mind ;
Without sight and sound, or scent, taste,
Feelings of touch, and dharma.
With no realm of vision or realm of awareness,
Neither dullness nor the end of dullness,
Neither decline and demise
Nor the end of decline and demise.
Devoid of pain, its causes, and need to cease it,
Without wisdom or gain
And with nothing to attain.
Bodhisattvas with Prajna Paramita
Have easeful hearts free from fear.
Forfeiting minds of mirage like dreams,
They achieve ultimate Nibbana.
The Buddhas that were, are now, and yet to come
Shall all through Prajna Paramita achieve
Anuttara- samyak- sambodhi.
Hence, know that Prajna Paramita
Is the greatly divine mantra,
The most luminous mantra,
The unsurpassed mantra,
And the peerless mantra.
Able to banish all misery;
Forever true and never false!
Thus, proclaim the Prajna Paramita Mantra,
And chant it so:
Jie dì jie dì
bo luó jie dì
bo luó seng jie dì
pú tí sà pó he
All rights released into public domain, please feel free to share.
Beneath the sea of glistening stars,
Between the ethereal evening air,
Lies a forest of glowing dreams,
But as diverse and rich as they are,
None escape the same Moonbeam.
Under the lucent morning glow,
Roll waves of raving emotions,
Turbid fortunes and cruel woes,
The burning craving of billions,
Yet the same Sun illumes them all.
Princes, beggars and pretenders,
All dance their own tango with
Fortune’s jeering taunts and tantrums,
Each gambles to grapple with fate,
Yet upon the same soil they all tread.
The canopy of a grand old oak
Casts a wide and mighty shadow,
Ruffling with a myriad of leaves,
Adorned by blooming blossoms
That sprout in spring and wither in winter,
With branches amber in autumn,
Green in summer, and lean and bare
In Saturn’s season of barren frost.
Yet for all its lush richness, it still rests
Upon one abiding unchanging trunk.
So even as human affairs steer here and there,
And wander and meander like wetland streams,
The timeless source remains the same,
For all ripe fruits return to Buddha’s root.
https://purelandsutras.wordpress.com/2017/01/21/the-buddhas-masterplan/
Poem released into Public Domain
great leaders sup in style
tete a tete, haute cuisine
attentive servants grovel
perfectly pleased to preen
as common soldiers while away
the quick moments of their lives
until the final stanza
battle screams, widowed wives
bullet sandwich breakfast
shrapnel pie for brunch
body bags for supper
**** and mud for lunch
something on the radio
the leader's can't agree
further talks tomorrow
perhaps yet peace may be
advisers are advising
the innocent are dying
beasts and buddhas sympathise
the leaders can't stop lying
but wait there's been a breakthrough
the deals have all been signed
the oil is in the barrels
the gold and jewels mined
communicate the press release
now sated they do order
glorify the martyr's death
the graveyard is a hoarder
a thousand generations now
one more will it matter
think they one more drop of blood
will make the gold cow fatter
why do they wake the bloody beast
why do they profit from it
blue murder in the name of god
by christ they make me vomit
what is wrong with thee?
o, plenty.
The non verbal,
repetitor.
She listens to wandering
ghostly attempts at
remembering
the past
to perserve
her future
to maintain
a quo.
ta.
of whom she laid eyes on,
upon the day
when her heart spoke
the language
of the unknown monk
whom the captain watts
often quoted,
the bible.s
the jesuses.
the buddhas.
the alahs.
the gods of gods and gods.
the lonely man,
from a distant universe.
sat in the house, on a cliff,
looked out his window to the desolate rocky ocean.
he grayed over time.
over worries
over creations
over complications and simplicities.
he, like us, also laughed and weeped.
with a pen in his hand,
direction from which is irrelevant,
wrote the play of life.
took his time,
might i add.
detailed.
spotted.
dotted.
zags.
his wife never nagged.
he had none.
he wrote.
dramas. mysteries.
but mostly comedies.
once his plays came to act,
suddenly he felt no responsibility.
it was his creation.
his ejaculation.
his ****.
his piss.
it was his external provocation.
the grand master of them all.
as we *****out daily nutrients.
and contemplate the paths of desires and dreams.
question reality. non reality.
the non creative.
the non god.
the non art.
rain drops fall.
as if nothing happened.
or perhaps a response to whatever had happened.
she thinks.
she also worries.
how ever miniscule.
grandiose.
sub-turbulous the design.
a hike to the Himalayas and back.
not a journey for the weak hearted.
Aqueous humor: she said of the buddahs hands that were
placed upon the table. Macula, and marvelous! A specticail
appealing to the eyes. Yards and Yards of lemongrass, and
beautiful bounties of Buddhas hands, the booty and prize of
chorered men willing to citriate a non citrated world.
Her caruncle shall move centered when he is revealed as
the plucking Pizzicato of Rhythm: The Obsidian Lava of
Citrusacion: from Buttes to Salton all shall speak him Great!
The Ciliary Body shall be marveled an adorned, the eye's of
Fools shall want those who want them to idolize them. Cascadia
shall be looked upon from the ages: thus each new beginning
make fools from theory, and facts shall distort there thoughts.
Those who these men wish to appeal shall refuse their want for
them and there women shall adore and love men. Hu-Buddhas'
Hands shall be bought to this world to flourish and shall
dominants the interest of people from era to era!
The Pizzicato Pluck shall began the entrance which
included a rhythm sound of melonic opera, Structural-
Improvements to the Unix Flauxer shall bring anew start to
worded harmony. Women who beleive in (NFP) shall be endearing
Mielle Creco Pelo
and shall wed. Y2 + X , 4 and -4, each improvement 4 2 X= 16.
(Non for Profit-pussy)
My girls are of my meraki
My little women plump and primped
Bulging curvy corseted crimped
They never fail to catch an eye
Painted pretty multi designed
For each the right beholder to find
Hourglass Figures compared to Buddhas
And Venus de Willendorf's form so potent
But my girls they're feminine flotant
As each is but a sculpted phallus
With gender bending folds beguiling
They do inevitably lend to smiling
17.12.12
Composed for Silent One's
"Meraki"
Robes of flowing milk
Mixed with light flowing honey
Nimbus of sunlight
Lotus of red, pink and gold
With buddhas in the petals
And black hair flowing downwards
Bussokusekika Poem about a medieval Chinese painting of the Prophet Mani (founder of Manichaeism) titled in English "Icon of Mani" (Moni is Mani in the Chinese language)