Another Chance To Fly!
build a fire....
gathering round,
stomp your feet,
trying to get warm....
hard wind from off
the mountains.....
sunlight opens the day.
and all that was yesterday,
all the dirt and grime,
all the bruises and words fallen,
the shadows of mistakes.....
are gone!
another day....
good fire, the company of friends....
another chance to fly!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dependents
we are all dependents,
in one form or another...
that being said,
let us be working dependents,
allowing others to lean on us,
to find refuge in our living,
to count on us.
at the same time...
let us not be enslaved,
used, abused, or treated
like property!
let our actions be
the actions of a free people,
that have chosen to be involved!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Just One More Time!
just one more time...
before i die,
dance of the herons,
waves kiss gravity's shore.
your body in mine,
dialogue of flesh...
when silence shouts,
and butterflies weep.
the flame held gently,
tugs at the boat.
bare feet walk,
the inner path.
intimate waiting,
for the groan and the flash...
just one more time,
say you love me,
let me die!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Four-Legged Soul
my four-legged soul,
running wild through the night,
gnashing, gnawing, tearing,
and howling...
baying at the moon.
my four legged soul
can taste the feel,
can feel the raw....
inside the blood,
inside the flesh.
soul devours darkness,
darkness devours light.....
running wild, and free,
drenched in the moment!
my four-legged soul....
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Strike Me (And Be Done)
if i am a bridge,
i need to feel your feet
on my back...
if i am a walking stick,
keep me with you
on your journey.
if i am a blanket,
cover yourself against
the cold night...
if i am a bowl, a spoon,
the soup, and the taste...
fill your empty stomach!
if i am dead branches,
gather me for the fire.
if i am a match,
strike me, and be done.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Sinner, Or The Sin
are we the judge,
or the judged?
the sinner, or the sin?
holiness, or brokeness,
the fire,
or burning branches?
do we hate
the wrong in others?
or the wrong in ourselves
we cannot see?
do we point
like bare branches
to the moon?
or lie on the ground,
and rot?
who do we change?
where do we begin?
are we then,
the sinner, or the sin?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Just To See (If You're There)
hands of coal,
back bent with time...
eyes that play tricks,
and ears that need help.
pictures of memories hidden
behind lips terse and still.
stories wrapped in stories,
no one listens to anymore.
the ghosts of love walking
the floors of an empty house...
eat a little, stare out the window,
read the obituaries just to see
if you're there!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Not Even A Number
tiny small hands
curled up in death
that reached for the breasts
of the mother....
lips swollen and parted,
face bruised and distorted,
left to rot.... in a dumpster.
spit out by the system,
trash begats trash...
no one knows the name
of mother or child....
in the land of Jesus,
SUV's and credit cards,
not a prayer....
not even a number!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Great Empty
closed!
out of business!
building for rent,
or sale!
22 vacant buildings on one street!
small-town America.
even the sidewalks are deserted...
except for paper cups,
and cigarette butts blowing
in the breeze...
empty windows,
boarded up doors....
the echo of voices
from the past,
from another day...
[...] Read more
poem by Eric Cockrell
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If We'd Stop!
if we'd stop shouting at each other...
if we'd stop shaking angry fists.
if we'd stop lying to ourselves.
if we'd stop running from the mirror.
if we'd stop playing religion and politics.
if we'd stop declaring war.
if we'd stop living by our taking...
if we'd stop pointing fingers.
if we'd stop pretending to be men and women...
only if we'd stop!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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