Burning Brush
burning brush out back,
sticks and twigs and limbs...
when the pile got low
i started throwing in,
memories, feelings, and dreams.
the fire blazed high,
but just for a moment...
then died to embers,
steady and pulsing...
and so does time to the heart!
the flame that gasps for air,
strangled by its own ardor...
till the outer body burns,
what's left is pure fuel...
warming the feet of God!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Change! Change! Change!
change! change! change!
everybody talkin' about change.
change your look,
change your luck,
change your politics,
change your religion...
change the country,
change the world....
change the day!
change your underwear!
loose change, pocket change,
winds of change, march for change....
but all real change begins within...
let's work on that,
and then everything else
will change in turn!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Come To The Point!
i've come to the point
when i dont care what anyone
thinks about me!
with what time i have left,
i'm going to do and say
exactly what i feel,
and remain true to myself,
and my beliefs.
i will question all things,
and honestly examine all things.
i dare to be what i am.
i do not need agreement,
permission, praise,
or anyone to follow.
i expect the same from you,
and will respect you for it!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Tiny Kingdoms Fall
tis the broken cup,
water boiling for the tea.
the curtain stained,
seven dollars in change.
the gas can empty,
the kerosene heater waits its call.
one last cigarette,
the hawk lost against the sky.
potatoes and ashes,
of such revolution.
things done out of season,
prayers spoken with shadows.
black and white photographs,
never eat or make love.
the world is shaken,
and tiny kingdoms fall!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hypertension
hypertension...
wonder why?
the whole country
in turmoil...
too many mouths,
open and needing....
too many souls,
pounding the streets.
too many promises,
broken for profit...
too many children,
honest eyes staring....
too many boys
shipped home in bodybags, , , ,
too many prisoners
[...] Read more
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Cost Will Be Great (For Dave)
riots,
city streets vomit;
angry, the earth erupts,
sick of it's sickness.
bodies flung against bodies
with a blinding rage...
the faceless demanding faces,
the nameless demanding names.
not knowing, not understanding,
peace, fullness, equality, freedom...
all begin within...
pushed in bloody blackened corners,
lashing out with survival teeth...
change will come,
but the cost will be great!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Too Much Like Alone....
holy infidels laying stone
for the pathway to the intimate...
stopping to smoke, a cup of coffee,
maybe a shot to break the chill...
books are only people
waiting to be set free from the shelf...
people are only spider's webs,
catching tiny fragments of light.
and this body a tired prayer,
spoken by lips both bruised and shaken.
my hand smells too much like alone,
but my feet know the way home!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Footprint, A Face...
do not mountains,
trees, and rivers live
their time, and die?
does not the sun
rise in the morning
only to lay down at night?
are not universes born of dust,
only to return to dust?
why should we be any different?
all that lives but a fleeting glimpse
into the workings of eternity.
yet everything that comes and goes
leaves an indelible mark,
a footprint on the water,
a face put to the wind!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
All People...
the people who were killed
at Pearl Harbor, at Hiroshima,
in the Nazi death camps,
in Vietnam, in Iraq, in Afghanistan....
on 9/11....
were all people,
many with families, all with dreams
of living and loving....
it is both tragic and sad
how they died, and that they died....
it is also a sad truth
that all the killing in the world
wont bring them back,
and will never redeem what happened....
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Night Coming!
hand on the brush,
grease on the wheel.
turning, and groaning,
the voices of men.
lone fire beneath the bridge,
stir the pot slowly.
shadows whisper with hunger,
stars answer with silence.
life laps out with flame,
hearts scorched seek each other.
the warmth of the body
that clings to the soul.
dreams of glass shatter,
tiny shreds of light.
tongues, and bare feet,
the moan of night coming!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!