The Golden Bowl of Buddha

[Cunninglinguist]

The Golden Bowl of Buddha

Once upon a time, or maybe twice,
I explained string theory in a poem,
But no one read it correctly;
Yet, I saw to look with eagerness towards the Sun,
Through the pink Cherry Tree blossoms
As the children kicked their football through the dusty universe.

When will the river flow, say I?
I tie my horse to the Tree and pick a bud;
Ruby flows from the mar –
Must be Cherry juice.

I told the universe that good is good.
Well, that’s dumb.
And then as the dust settled I kicked it again.
Up, up, up.

“Have you ever wondered where the zombie-robots hide?”
I asked a man, who claimed he could count to infinity.
Little did I know, he was only catholic.

Did you know Moowis was melted by the sun?
Ma-mon-dá-go-Kwa died looking for him.
I blame the dormouse for a ducat.

Let us tarry here, though. A sojourn
At this place smells nice,
Down by the river still,
As the children kick their football through the dusty universe,
Which started once as everything
And is being slowly vacuumed up by mom.


P.S. Grammar errors intentional

[Delta40]

I have no understanding whatsoever but I enjoy being twirled round by your poem as if I am dancing on a sunny day....

[YesNo]

Like Delta40, it didn't make any sense to me either.

Here's a general concern I have as a reader.

When I read a poet's comments in other threads where they are engaging in arguments with others or trying to actually communicate something, they are very clear. They know how to write. But when they submit a poem, all of a sudden nothing makes sense. It makes me wonder if English is their native language.

Anyone know why that happens?

[everyadventure]

I think this poem is a bit of satire, and wasn't intended to make a whole lot of "sense." I think one big clue to that was the line "little did I know he was only Catholic." What I picked out of this poem was that people will pay attention to the wisdom of the Orient (oh, Confucius said it!) but won't bother listening to a scientist explaining string theory.

Reminds me of that Seinfeld episode where Elaine has phone conversations with a mentor who she assumes is Asian, and finds out she's Caucasian and loses all esteem for her!

[Cunninglinguist]

I have no understanding whatsoever but I enjoy being twirled round by your poem as if I am dancing on a sunny day....

Then this author has achieved.


When I read a poet's comments in other threads where they are engaging in arguments with others or trying to actually communicate something, they are very clear. They know how to write. But when they submit a poem, all of a sudden nothing makes sense. It makes me wonder if English is their native language.

Anyone know why that happens?

Hehe, because the poem wasn't trying to impose an argument on its reader - You are the child kicking a football through the absurd universe (a metaphor for the poem and also the child's room) -, but rather to set the mind free and let it wander. In its apparent absurdity, this is an insidious argument though (the insidious argument of Buddhism, perhaps?). So it appears that a zombie-robot hides in this poem.


I think this poem is a bit of satire, and wasn't intended to make a whole lot of "sense." I think one big clue to that was the line "little did I know he was only Catholic." What I picked out of this poem was that people will pay attention to the wisdom of the Orient (oh, Confucius said it!) but won't bother listening to a scientist explaining string theory.

Reminds me of that Seinfeld episode where Elaine has phone conversations with a mentor who she assumes is Asian, and finds out she's Caucasian and loses all esteem for her!

Also, symbols have prescribed meaning, and so it's conceivable that any symbol, or string of symbols, could be explaining string theory, yet we as the readers do not interpret the meaning correctly (we do not "read" it correctly). So, perchance, this is the poem that is explaining it.

By the way, I stole one of your lines "the children kicked the football..." from one of your poems - hope you don't mind being the victim of some found poetry.

[qimissung]

Ooooh, zombie-robots! I love the absurd whimsicality of it all, tied up with a bit of string. Will it lead us out of the labyrinth?

[Cunninglinguist]

Ooooh, zombie-robots! I love the absud whimsicality of it all, tied up with a bit of string. Will it lead us out of the labyrinth?

Thank you! I don't know what exactly you mean by "labyrinth" - do you mean the poem itself? In that case, I don't know. If the reader searches for meaning in the poem, then it is the reader, not the poem, that has made the paradox. So then can he fairly ask the poem to resolve it? This is an interesting question, to me. And I don't have an answer for it.

[Bar22do]

I think this is excellent, Cunninglinguist, truly. satirical, deep and sharp...
You write with great freedom and brio!
Best regards, Bar

[Cunninglinguist]

I think this is excellent, Cunninglinguist, truly. satirical, deep and sharp...
You write with great freedom and brio!
Best regards, Bar

Hah, thanks - much kinder than my faux pas interpretation and reply to one of your poems :P

[Cunninglinguist]

Aesthetic Study #2

I asked for freedom and all I got was a stupid T-shirt,
And then my wife ran off with my best friend
So now I have no dog.
But she was kinda ugly anyways.
Kids would give her candy when she opened up the door
Or try to pull off her face
On Halloween.

Plumbs and plumbs; wooden plums inside a purple bowl;
Decked violets upon the pearly wall;
As to the dye of the purple sunsets
Whereat the painted sky in rosy blush would kiss
And by a kiss the Sun
Would bloom into a thousand blue butterflies
Painting amid blue wings the night.
The face that lost her Sun would cry,
And so her tears became the stars.
This is what the violets and the plums told me.

In times ago there was a king
But the kids were always playing on his lawn.
Have you ever met him?
I think I saw him at a coffee shop
Down on Drier Street.

The firefly does not mind
That the river does not flow,
There is no absurdity where it is not sought.
But what potential is a symbol
When we have made more modest prescriptions?

[Bar22do]

Hah, thanks - much kinder than my faux pas interpretation and reply to one of your poems :P

Don't worry, we all have our moments...

and I see, no one has commented on your other excellent offering, clearly written in continuation of its predecessor..

In it, I especially loved:

"And by a kiss the Sun
Would bloom into a thousand blue butterflies"

and I'm afraid I don't have an answer to your final question, but agree so much with

"There is no absurdity where it is not sought!"

Best to you, Bar

[Delta40]

How odd in the second stanza of Aesthetic Study #2 that I actually don't see colour...Perhaps it is very early in the morning and my brain needs a kick start with a strong coffee.

I do like the other stanza's. The first has a unique voice of its own which sets it apart from the rest. I like the last but again it makes no sense to me in the most imaginative way possible!