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| How to Join | Member's Area | Private Library | Search | Sanctuary | Login | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Main Forums | Discussion | Tech Talk | Mature Content | Archives |
A home without a wall, |
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| Open Poetry #12 |
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Buddha's Ashes |
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Seymour Tabin Member Empyrean
since 1999-07-07
Posts 31720Tamarac Fla 
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Buddha’s ashes The spitting cobra spits to blind Injects its fangs, venoms the mind. Piercing the shell like nettles from hell And goes by the name of Jezebel. Covering the Buddha with ash on the fly Dimming the sun with shadows of sigh Constricting the flow of beauties sweet dew Pushed the abyss by the words of a shrew. She gathers her poison holds it like chyme Webbing each drop in the patterns of time. Testing the spittle little by little Sinking her fangs in final committal. She’s the ice in the wind the burn in the fire The knot in garrote that throttles, the choir The sweetness of heaven the bleakness of hell The pulls in the quick sand the wish in the well. The Buddha withers the gash of the gnash And sits head bowed in the wash of the ash. |
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| © Copyright 2001 Seymour Tabin - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
You show me well who I shall never be.... |
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ethome Member Patricius
since 2000-05-14
Posts 11858New Brunswick Canada |
Hey Seymour you're not sacrificing anything at home are you? I just can't see myself coming over if the food on the barbecue is going to be strangled....whoa!! I have never read such a condemnation done so intensely...great work my friend!! The poet is like a cocoon; in him the caterpillar of the past finds rest, and from him the butterfly of the future emerges. |
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Janet Marie Member Laureate
since 2000-01-22
Posts 18554 |
Piercing the shell like nettles from hell And goes by the name of Jezebel. Covering the Buddha with ash on the fly Dimming the sun with shadows of sigh ======================= She gathers her poison holds it like chyme Webbing each drop in the patterns of time. Testing the spittle little by little Sinking her fangs in final committal. She’s the ice in the wind the burn in the fire The knot in garrote that throttles, the choir The sweetness of heaven the bleakness of hell The pulls in the quick sand the wish in the well. The Buddha withers the gash of the gnash And sits head bowed in the wash of the ash. ==================== My goodness Sy-babes... me thinks Randy has heartburn or needs a weekend pass *L* So many cool lines in this gift of inner rhyme "Testing the spittle little by little Sinking her fangs in final committal." and so many awesome images ... "She’s the ice in the wind the burn in the fire The knot in garrote that throttles, the choir The sweetness of heaven the bleakness of hell The pulls in the quick sand the wish in the well." that verse there is so poetically perfect it stands on its own. but its the intensity of the flow and words that is so way cool ... I need new adjectives to define your work Stinky.. cause I am wearing out...cool,clever,unique... excellent me sweet ... once again a lesson in poetry and wisdom done cool  *winkiewinkie*  meSome find subtlety in strangers some find subtlety alone Your eyes,you see everything my eyes,I see its all together now and I know. ~candlebox~ |
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JamesMichael Member Empyrean
since 1999-11-16
Posts 33336Kapolei, Hawaii, USA |
A joy to read...James |
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Seymour Tabin Member Empyrean
since 1999-07-07
Posts 31720Tamarac Fla |
Sunshine, You never was and never could. *L* Ethome, Thank you so much for the laugh and clever comment. JM, You always save me when I'm going down for the third time on the third page. LOL Love Ya sweety, WW Stinky |
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