A Chill
a chill in the air,
drinking coffee, and listening
for the groan
of leaves beginning to turn.
and the sight of your eyes
undressing you heart
in the simplest moment...
the wrinkled smile, talking
softly about nothing....
and giving it meaning.
some things just are...
and destiny is a small wind
that blows the falling leaf
into the almost sound
of laughter on your lips...
a chill in the air...
we build a small fire
with the hands of companions,
and lovers.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Song Of Autumn
we have become old...
and have earned this time
of turning... turning wind,
turning leaves.... day turning
to night with a suddeness.
every stroke of color,
every shade of black and white...
and this sudden chill brings
a warmth that our lives define!
our passion is falling
like leaves to carpet the earth....
our bare limbs reach heavenward...
to God, or the next page...
we wait on the snow,
and the small fires the living
build to light the way....
we are the song of autumn...
the wind that fills the empty
pages of forever with human hands....
old warriors, and lovers,
whose touching defines the night!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Last Breaking Of Dawn
ending, or beginning?
sometimes i still cant tell!
out of date postage stamps,
just dont deliver.
carbon and rust,
even cobwebs turn grey.
lips bent and crusted
never kiss the night!
holiness, old clothes,
the fit of the body fades.
time buries the fire,
again and again.
small things, kind words,
and the simplest touch.
the first cup of coffee,
the last breaking of dawn!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The heart of a tree
With branches reaching out as if for a embrace
The tree may bow to nature with grace.
He stands alone when the wind blows strong.
The leaves may fall, but the tree stands tall.
There are some things that the eyes can't see.
Like the heart of a tree.
In winter's cold chill, You can see the tree stand still.
Leaves are gone but the tree stands strong.
Until winter turns into spring and the birds begin to sing.
The leaves may fall, but the tree stands tall.
There are some things that the eyes can't see.
Like the heart of a tree.
Through storms and the wind. Bowing with a graceful bend,
Until the sun shines again, still standing at the end,
The tree is like a true friend.
The leaves may fall, but the tree stands tall.
There are some things that the eye can't see,
Like the heart of a tree.
The old Tree's secrets
How many lovers sat together under the old tree?
If only the tree could speak.
The stories would be of weary travelers
finding a place of peace, and dreams in their sleep.
Stolen moments of lovers, perhaps a sweet caress.
A young man with a ring, a young girl said yes.
Tree I only imagine, I enjoy the guess.
Gentle breezes that lifted the leaves
to let them gently fall to earth.
Misting rain to meet the tree's thirst,
Perhaps two trees inter-twined are
Two lovers that were curst.
poem by Judy Arline Puckett
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The Guest
black coffee, and
cigarettes... clearing
the cobwebs from my head....
spent all night talking
to dead poets, and
standing by my mother's grave...
mortality hangs from my
neck like an anvil... waiting...
for the train to come....
sunlight pouring through
my fingers like dust....
falling to my feet with finality...
it comes down to this...
who have i loved by my living?
small children, women, companions...
or the wolf in the darkest
recesses within my being...
that longs to run with the wind?
have i been true for a moment,
for a moment is all this is...
a moment on the pathway
of eternity... have i left my mark?
have i breathed raw air?
have i burned down the house
to let the guest in?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Crawling Without Feet
women that smoke cigars,
and books that start with the ending.
the things dogs smell
written underneath stones.
the day guns rise up and walk out,
in utter protest.
the long trek cows and pigs and fish make,
on the way to becoming part of you.
the sound potatoes make
when you dig them...
the fire you built before you built it!
the things green beans whisper in the rain,
the groan of tomatoes ripening.
the sound of rust and leaves turning,
the name written in the first autumn chill.
the day we left the sea,
crawling without feet to the land.
and the day we'll return, utter failures,
or with the memory of a thousand small victories.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Lovers And Friends
talking, or not talking,
walking, side by side,
hand in hand...
small kind gestures,
a knowing wink,
thoughts shared,
quiet laughter...
dreams that fall like stars
through felt-like layers
of darkness...
dont have to be nobody else,
no need to impress, or flaunt....
a glass of wine,
a fresh cup of coffee...
moment by moment,
alive and aware...
friends make the best lovers!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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When The Wind Blows
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
In a part of this once-great city
Stands a child crying out in pity.
Gone is hope in the heart of each hungry hour.
Every year in this land of plenty
There are millions of starving children
What will i say if they look my way?
This is an emergency.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
Bow your heads to the lost generation
Scars so deep, bringing god's damnation.
Businessmen sip wine while congress argue.
But for grace we enjoy our pleasures
What we face will be our salvation
Go build your towns, but remember time will not forget
That this is an emergency.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
Think of what the wise men said.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chill Pill
Everybody needs to take a chill pill
there's so much love to fill
everybody needs to take a chill pill
let these wounds heal
everybody needs to take a chill pill
Let it be your will
dry all this blood we spill
everybody needs to take a chill pill
find in your heart not to kill
everybody needs to take a chill pill
Think how the world would feel
everybody needs to take a chill pill
think of it as being real
everybody needs to take a chill pill
take your guns and kneel
You won't have to steal
while you watch your tire's peel
everybody needs to take a chill pill
nothing here is that big of a deal
if only it was so surreal
little bird on the windowsill
everybody needs to take a chill pill
(spiritwind-2009)
poem by Spiritwind Wood
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Eternity Then..... (One Small Flicker)
eternity then,
one small flicker of the flame,
a comma in the book of life,
the point where roads meet,
and diverge...
a tiny shard of broken glass,
a dropp of sweat on the back of a worker,
ejaculation, and echo...
each vein of the leaf turning,
a stray dog's turd.
the creak of the wheel that needs geased,
the sound between the gunshot
and the thud of the body.
the moment just after the body is covered.
the whisper of an empty plate,
the marching order of the ants.
the silence when your lover walks out the door.
the color of the bent nail,
the wrinkle on the pillow.
the shout for peace no one hears,
the rattle of justice breaking chains.
the flap of wings when the bird lifts off.
the groan of the mountain stripped.
the funeral dirge of oil stricken fishes.
the turn of the key in the lock.
the sound of god's footsteps,
the mourning cry of the empty room.
the brush of hands when the spirit shudders,
the tremble of lips forgotten.
the collision of ending and beginning,
but a moment, memory, and dust!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Just Before Storm (Walking With Rilke)
staring across the chasm of forever,
if my body be the bridge,
then yours,
the cup, the fire, and the lantern!
the wind wrote of love,
before there were humans!
scriptures written in trees,
mountains, and hollowed out caves.
your lips,
breath, and understanding...
your heart,
pure awe!
do we 'speak with the tongues
of men and angels'?
or stuttering fragile words,
repeat the wind?
mountains bow to breast and thigh,
sunset undressing those eyes...
the small place between
wing and body... pure heat!
the wrap of the rain on grasses chanting!
spirits with pens undulating,
the scent of god's perfume,
the moment just before storm!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Small Talk
Its not the chapters he reads when youre feeling low down
Its not the touch of his skin when you kiss him goodnight
Its not the money he spends when you want to buy a daydream
And not that miracle smile that makes the sky bright
Its not the way his hands behave
When youve turned out the light
Its the small, small small talk that makes it all happen
Small, small small talk that makes you want to fly, yes it does
Its not the way he believes in you like a religion
Its not the thrill that you get when hes holding you tight
Its not the way his eyes persuade
You to stay the night
Its the small, small small talk that makes it all happen (just like that)
Small, small small talk that makes you feel like flying, yes it does
Information, heart and soul, a whisper, a word
Confessions that have to be heard
Small small talk
Come on now, come on now
Come on - you make it rock so heavenly
Come on now, come on now
Come on - you seem to talk so heavenly
Big words...
Small talk...
Its not the way his eyes persuade
You to stay the night
Its the small, small small talk that makes it all happen
Small, small small talk that makes you feel like flying, yes it does
song performed by by Roxette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sound Of The Beating Heart!
we spend lifetimes searching
for the sound the leaf makes
turning from green to orange to red...
we spend our loving burning branches
in the shadow of the tree.
we spend our faith trying to capture,
and hold the wind for a moment...
never knowing that what we search for
is only our own being!
we are the leaf, the branches, the fire,
the tree, and the wind...
the sound, the loving, and the faith.
and yet we are nothing.
we are but a moment,
familiar taste and scent.
we are eternity,
the breath of an unknown god.
the sun has set,
stillness comes walking
across the mountains.
i listen for the voices
that have no face.
dead poets sit by a vagrant fire,
immigrants, refugees...
spinning old tales.
my friends smell like trees,
and leaves turned brown.
we cross bridges unseen,
with no destination.
and the only sound
that even god can hear...
the sound of the beating heart!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Chill Wind
It's 5 O'Clock on a December morn
From out of the east the wind is borne
Dropping temperatures by 20 degrees
Bundle up or you will freeze
To some the cold's a thrill
Strapping on skis to race downhill
Myself, I'd rather be warm
Stay inside to weather the storm
Down streets and alleys it blows
The chill wind which never slows
Picking up debris along it's way
To leave blocks or miles away
But to work I have to go
Clad in layers from head to toe
Walk to the subway in this gale
Watching leaves and paper taking sail
Undergound, the wind's abated
But this line is an elevated
At stops the doors open wide
And the chill wind rushes inside
Back on the street, with my head bowed
'Damn it's cold' I say out loud
Wishing that I was thicker skinned
The better to stand this chill wind
poem by Harry J. Couchon Jr
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I Finally Found Forever
i finally found forever...
in the laughter of a small child,
in a raindropp rolling down the window.
in a flower that opened and closed
in one fleeting day.
in the embers of a fire going out.
in the door latch opened,
the shadow walking across the room.
in the old woman dying,
her face peaceful and calm.
in the smile of the young boy cuffed
in the back of the police van...
in the revolver unloaded,
and put back in the drawer.
in the box of clothes
left on the doorstep.
in the cup of coffee shared,
the plate, the fork, and the smoke.
in the moment of eyes engaged,
and talking without words...
in the given without thinking,
the breathe that was felt!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I'll remember
I'll remember you
Your smile
Your laughter
And your brown eyes
Your smile was the most beautiful smile I've ever saw
It's hotter than fire
It's prettier than me
Your smile was a sun to me
You smile to welcome me
And to let me know that you loved me
Your smile was charming and calm
No matter how others' smiles are beautiful
As long as it's not yours, it's not special.
Your laughter was the most fantastic music I ever heard
The gentle melody with cheerful and soft harmony
I was glad I could listen to it everyday
Your laughter was a medicine to all the scars in my heart
When you laughed, I laughed
All the burdens, sadness, and angriness flowed away as I laughed
Your laughter was much more special than any other laughter.
I'll remember your brown eyes
Your brown eyes always looks into mine and says 3 wonderful words
I love you
I love to look at your eyes
I could see the reflection of me, only me
And it's so warm and sweet
Warmer and sweeter than drinking hot chocolate in winter
Your laughter always remain inside my heart forever.
I'll remember you
Your smile
Your laughter
And your brown eyes
No matter how pretty and beautiful other people's smile, laughter, and eyes are, if they're not yours than they're no special.
I want to thank you for everything
Thank you for always being there and my hero
And thank you for being with me and loving me
I'll remember you.
An Old Man's Prayer
i pray for the sounds
of leaves falling in timeless glory;
for the bark of the dog,
and the paw of the cat.
for the laughter of children playing,
who have a home and food to eat.
for the tired smiles of working parents,
for the ears and stories of grandparents.
for the kiss and the touch of lovers,
for the dreams of the young that know not bounds.
for the gurgle of creeks and the sighs of mountains,
for the crow, the turtle, and the squirrel.
for the plow, the shovel, and the axe, ...
and hands that know each.
for eyes that see beneath color and nationality,
for the spiritual who dare not name god.
for the silence of guns at last laid down,
for bridges built by caring hands.
for shoulders that take on responsibility,
for feet bound by determination.
for the face of justice drawn by the hands of compassion,
for the way equality feels!
for sundown, darkness, and dawn...
for stars that do not need names.
for the wisdom of trees, and the taste of dew,
for the howl of moonlight that shakes the night.
for the nearness of companions when life seems far,
for the stillness that makes the heart dance.
for passion, simplicity, and understanding,
for the gift of every moment....
i pray....
giving thanks with a pilgrim's feet!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Alone
There came to me softly a small wind from the sea.
And it lifted a curl as it passed by me.
But I sang sorrow and ho the heavy day!
And I sang heigho and well-away!
Again there came softly a small wind from the sea,
And it lifted a curl as it passed by me.
And still I sang sorrow and ho the heavy day!
And I sang heigho and well-away!
Once more there came softly that small wind from the sea,
And it lifted a curl as it passed by me.
I hushed my song of sorrow and ho the heavy day,
And I hushed my heigho and well-away.
Then, when I was silent, that small wind from the sea,
It came the fourth time tenderly to me;
To me, to me,
Sitting by the sea,
Sitting sad and solitary thinking of thee.
Like warm lips it touched me-that soft wind from the sea,
And I trembled and wept as it passed by me.
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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Heavy Things
Things are falling down on me
Heavy things I could not see
When I finally came around
Something small would pin me down
When I tried to step aside
I moved to where they hoped I'd be
Venessa calls me on the phone
Reminding me I'm not alone
I fuss and quake and cavitate
I try to speak and turn to stone
Telly reaches through my vest
To do the thing that she does best
She probes and tears my ventricles
Steals my one remaining breath
Things are falling down on me
Heavy things I could not see
When I finally came around
Something small would pin me down
When I tried to step aside
I moved to where they hoped I'd be
Stumbling as I fall from grace
She needs my vision to replace
Her ailing sight throughout the night
Leaving two holes in my face
Mary was a friend I'd say
'Till one summer day
She borrowed everything I owned
And then simply ran away
Things are falling down on me
Heavy things I could not see
When I finally came around
Something small would pin me down
When I tried to step inside
I moved to where they hoped I'd be
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Things Clear Only to Me
The Wind swirls around me,
It swirls and shoots up a tree.
It rustles the leaves,
And over the Dryad weaves.
The wind I can see,
And things clear only to me!
Up a branch the Dryad prances,
And with the wind she dances!
Floating, the wind goes,
Up to the roof, and slows.
To the horse weathervane,
And there it ruffles his mane.
Then down I see him turn,
Not a horse, but flying unicorn!
The wind I run after,
To hear hearty laughter.
Behind the large rock I peek,
The laughing one to seek.
There a joke is read to a troll,
from a very old scroll.
I laugh too as I go,
Now the wind swoops low.
Down to the flowers small,
Where I hear tiny fairies call.
I cannot understand the sound,
Like me with grown-ups around.
Then I watch, and sigh,
As the wind lifts a dragon high.
Up there I cannot go,
Only feel the fire blow!
This is when I turn back,
The wind has gone slack.
I no longer see it swirl,
Or the other things in its' curl.
A blazing sun in the sky,
Is left from the dragon's fly.
On the flowers buzz bees,
No fairies below my knees.
I walk past the stone,
It and I are alone.
The horse up on the roof,
Makes no move, he's aloof.
The tree is empty and still,
The Dryad gone, gone until…
Until the wind comes again,
Swooping through this lane.
Then the wind I will see,
And things clear only to me!
poem by Elisabeth Hines
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Hallelujah! I Am Yours!
i searched till i found beauty,
in the simplest things....
in the hand of a friend,
a leaf blown by the wind,
in a blind dog's eyes,
in the cat curled close.
in the baby just born,
the old man's dying smile...
in difference, and in sameness.
in the lover's body,
in hands calloused and hard,
in moonlit nights,
and quiet conversations.
in long silent walks,
the meal simply prepared,
in the mother and the child.
in the twinkle in the homeless man's eyes,
as we shared a cup of coffee.
in thunderstorms, mountains,
and gliding hawks,
in the snail, the spider, and the ants.
in the trees that whisper,
and the dawn that shouts...
'hallelujah! i am yours! '
poem by Eric Cockrell
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