Fingered Brush
hand on heart,
mouth to breast.
feet that follow
their own footsteps.
eyes that know
every layer of the petal.
tongues that taste,
soul that names.
aware, alive,
connected, set free.
bridge and shelter,
fire and crackle.
the softest
underside of wings...
and prayer is only
the fingered brush!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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If... (Death Knocks!)
if indeed death knocks,
i cannot answer the door.
there are logs to split,
and bricks to lay....
a fire to tend,
and flowers to plant.
broken wings to heal,
centipedes to liberate....
small things to do,
small words to speak...
for i am not yet done with living,
and living's not done with me!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Liar!
you would spread peace
by the use of your guns,
end poverty with slavery,
execute justice with your prisons,
end prejudice by not looking...
protect freedom of speech with oppression,
teach the truth with closed minds,
and fill the plates of the hungry
with nuclear threats...
i say,
'Liar! '
poem by Eric Cockrell
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No One Else Sees
telegraph...
silence speaks,
gravel voice...
trees fall,
no one hears...
you cannot lie...
in the moment
of you and me.
i know your smell,
your feel and your taste.
time writes with blood,
feet within feet!
love, the scar,
that no one else sees...
the color of water
[...] Read more
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Pack My Bags
why cant i write
just a few lines,
understood in all languages;
that would open the hearts
of all mankind, one human
being to another...
and make us all know
and realize that we are family?
you dont even have
to put my name on it.
just let it be...
i'd pack my bags and go home,
happy as hell!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Plowed, Planted, And Weeded
the human mind
is but a field...
it has to be plowed,
planted and weeded..
it needs sunlight and rain.
if the gardener is attentive,
the crop will be good.
if we let it lay untended,
it becomes a field of death!
the crop that we raise
is the food of the future...
plowed, planted, and weeded!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Smells Like
if your heart
smells like my feet,
then the time
is not in vain.
we lose years
in moments of burden...
painting stars
on a ceiling
sure to fall!
if my feet
smell like prayers,
then god should know
the way, and have the key.
if the door
smells like you...
then we'll both wait
outside in the rain!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Spontaneous Electricity (A Part Of)
autumn leaves...
fallen, crumbling,
dissolving into the earth,
leaving no sign,
no name, no identity,
not a mark, not a trace,
for the passage of time...
and yet...
a part of....
of such is my life.
and i find peace in this!
a part of...
all that has been,
all that will be,
a part of...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Arrest
Jesus got arrested
down on fourth street
for taking in, and
associating with
whores, addicts, thieves,
and losers....
i didnt have the money
to go His bail...
so i sent Him a file,
a pack of Marlboro's,
and a tract from the
local Baptist Church....
complete with the address
for donations...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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When You're Done!
pick up your tools,
sweep the floors,
haul off the trash...
when you're done.
take down the signs.
lay down your guns....
leave your morals at the door!
box up your visions,
take down your cross...
sing your last song!
set the fire, fan the flames,
turn off the light....
when you're done!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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