Old Woman (Standing At The Sink)
old woman,
standing at the sink,
flannel shirt and panties....
washing dishes with knowing hands,
sunlight through the window dancing
on the strands of grey in her hair....
an old cat rubbing against her ankles....
bombs exploding, new world's emerging...
even the nails in the walls
whisper the coming change!
blackbirds carry the message of snow,
the old woodstove crackles and smokes....
somewhere they're painting banners
and buildings with freedom's song....
he sits motionless, brush in hand,
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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American Made (Nowhere To Turn)
American made....
in the fields, backs bent,
working the earth....
in the factories,
hands, eyes, and machines,
moving in well oiled unison....
in the mills,
cloth woven into warmth
and cover.....
on the sites,
buildings going up,
block by block.....
in the trucks,
barreling across the highways,
carrying goods coast to coast....
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Changing The Face Of God
are we changing the face of God?
if you want to see God,
look in the mirror!
if your mirror does not show you
the reflections of all those in need,
all those who are suffering...
you're not true to yourself...
much less to God!
perhaps, search for God?
no, God is not lost!
if your heart does not hurt
every time someone starves,
or a child dies,
or a family is put out on the street,
then you are lost!
you dont need someone to
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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On A Distant Hill!
lover...
broken heart,
you undress painfully,
evolving from soul to self.
turn away from the window,
the moonlight will follow...
to find your breasts weeping,
and the shadows in your void.
tender eyes almost afraid,
to give the only gift
you have left...
you cross the bridge trembling,
your scent hangs in the air.
redeeming the given in given,
the tiny box on the dresser.
i will wrap you forever
in the light hidden in darkness.
your heart the bell,
mine the shell holding echo.
i kiss your feet with desire
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Snail Crossing.... (Part Twelve)
human sexuality...
the bridge from one soul to another,
the holiest of fires,
both darkness and light,
creation and death,
the tenderness the wind mourns for,
the storm that changes the face
of the earth...
holding nothing back,
touch the one you love,
aware of each tiny eternity,
in rhythm with the tides...
only your heart knows...
the lost part of you...
the echo of your spirit,
the hand into which you dissolve...
you are the breath of each other...
and no one else has the right to judge!
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Weeps With Prayer
burning...
branches longing for fire,
that once reached for the sky.
aching, hungry,
sharp edges on the glass.
rhythm, beat,
and nightfall,
ready for the taste.
tongue electric,
searching,
every crevice of the cave.
wings dusted,
flap with the anger,
too long in the cage.
fangs beared, heavy breathing,
images bent by brandy.
smoke, and wildness,
who left the door unlocked?
be it a beast, or an angel,
hurried in the quick of time.
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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A Living Wage!
a living wage....
seems like not so much
to ask... after 40 years
of
...working
.....daylight
.........to
...........dusk....
feeding someone elses dream...
America the great,
...America the fallen,
can
...you
.....not hear?
can
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Children of Ignorance
the children of ignorance
with bits in their mouths,
led blindfolded to the slaughter
without a thought or a prayer.
whipped into a frenzy by lies,
wrapped with golden ribbons,
sold by street vendors in suits
with hollow faces and marble eyes.
fed the 'word of God' with shotguns,
wearing crucifix painted robes;
selling their daughters for gasoline,
and their sons to political wars.
marching to hatred and violence,
leaving the weak to suffer and fall.
in the name of patriotism and Wall Street,
led like dumb sheep to die.
and they're already dead!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Faith And Destiny!
we live on faith,
as if by chance,
yet every step ordained
by destiny!
my father thunder and lightning;
my mother the wind,
i cannot call by name,
but am always in its grasp.
through bruise and scar,
despair and suffering.
i may question the night,
i may despise the day....
but i keep moving with the rhythm
of waves stroked by the moon....
my father speaks!
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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I Have Always Been... Human!
i have been a fool,
a thief, and a liar.
i have been selfish,
i have been callous.
i have been ignorant,
i have been a prisoner.
i have been an addict,
i have been a loser.
i have been wrong,
i have been angry.
i have been a taker,
i have been a demon.
i have been a hero,
i have been a man.
i have been a husband,
i have been a father.
i have been a seeker,
i have been a worker.
i have been a believer,
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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