Would You... (Open The Door)
if i set fire to my heart,
would you see the flames...
and stop, a stranger in the night,
to warm your soul?
if i broke the glass of my dreams,
would you pick up the pieces...
would the light shining on them,
become the prism of your thoughts?
and if i shed my leaves,
would you say farewell to the swallows...
and rake in the stillness, waiting on snow?
if my silence shouted...
would you hear... would you hear?
if i took off my mask,
would you open the door?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Final Preparation....
leaves, just beginning to turn,
and the silent shout of rust
deafens the empty room.
bare feet leave no tracks in gravel,
yet the birds' wings scar the sky
as they begin their journey.
the plow sits motionless weeping,
the skillet whistles to the fire.
a squirrel sits atop the woodpile,
the mountains' breathing become labored.
and the wind packs its few belongings,
tips a hat to my shadowed soul.
as we begin the long journey,
the final preparation for beginning!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Lonliness (Tastes)
lonliness...
tastes like,
blood crusted on the lips,
the hint of brandy that lingers.
the first smoke
when you walk free from jail.
the crust of the pie,
the tongue of first love.
the soft place
on the back of your neck.
smoke and soot and greyness
as you walk the city streets.
the meat cooked long and slow,
falling apart in your mouth.
the trace of garlic,
the bitter shock of gunpowder.
gravel dust, spring water, ...
the last kiss,
a black and white photograph.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Tearing Down The Wall!
tearing down the wall,
with hammers ablaze,
the wall that stood between
today and tomorrow....
crumbling down to dust,
hatreds and prejudices,
greed and apathy,
pride and ego.....
the wall that divided
humanity from the human,
the hungry from a meal,
the slave from his freedom....
the homeless from shelter,
the sick from the cure...
the child from his family,
[...] Read more
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Circular Path
how many times have
civilizations risen,
only to fall?
pounding their chests,
'we are the only ones,
no one came before! '
how ignorant and arrogant
to actually believe...
and how sad,
the same mistakes,
over and over again.
when will we learn?
the first buds of spring
remember the snows of winter,
the leaves of autumn decayed,
the passionate harvest of summer...
why not we?
the path long, wraps in circles,
[...] Read more
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Unfolding!
listen!
in every voice
something familiar!
in every face
something that
reminds you...
in every flower
that blooms.
in every cloud,
in every leaf
blowing in the wind.
in every child
that's born...
in every old person
that you bury.
in every man
working with his hands.
in every woman
raising her children.
in every mountain
[...] Read more
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Drilling For Oil
flesh colored ghosts
walking through the
oil fields... carrying
mannequin babies
on their shoulders.
draped in American flags,
carrying Bibles, and
pearl handled revolvers.
past rusted out chevrolets,
stepping on books that
were banned....
singing the songs of Jesus
to corpses that cant hear....
past tomblike houses
where strangers lived and
[...] Read more
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Piano Bench
sun setting,
...azure tint.
the piano bench empty,
dust gathers on the keys.
the grass damp with dew,
the wind still, and quiet.
the bookshelf sags
with books long ignored.
people walk by without talking,
darkness opens its mouth... swallows.
the lamp forlorn and chilled
waits without hope for a bulb.
nothing to say that can say,
words fall like leaves to the ground.
the room empty haunted by form,
curls up inside it's own hollow.
no fingers to touch the keys!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Sound... (Of Wings Departing)
if i pick the petals of your lips,
and bathe inside your hair.
if my tongue travels the map
of your lost desire,
and my soul whispers to your shadow.
if i cling to you till two become one,
and then open my hands, will you fly?
if i drink your wetness both deep and long,
and clothe your stillness with passion....
if i kiss your anger with burning pulse,
and name each empty chamber.
will you remember that the sparrow came?
or at least the sound of wings departing?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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To Be Restored!
to think that this is the only time we've lived,
is small minded, and absurd!
we are leaves born by the same tree,
season after season, year after year.
with each summer the branches are fuller,
with each autumn the color deeper....
with each winter the time of stillness cuts deeper...
with each spring the hope of the spirit is reborn!
we are many lives in one,
many forms in one...
the journey is long, the ache is great,
for the eyes of the heart to be restored!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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