En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Beneath The Feet Of Love....

be it only then the phoenix
that rises from the ashes?
then who walks the valley of bones,
hearing voices from another world?
whose footprints in the waters?
whose scream etched in stone?
whose hands rising from the darkness,
whose grunt births the dawn?

can you feel this heat of nearness?
the softness inside this shadow?
even the candle's flame flickers,
as if whispering some hidden truth!
and the moments tick by shaking tambourines,
while words undress revealing sound...
it must be the sound of silence,
or the name not yet revealed.

i am the tongue cleaving to your breastbone,
the taste of hunger bitter on your lips.
i am the song of the ages,
you the conch shell of desire.
i am the hollow in the mockingbird's longing,
you the grain of the weathered oak.
i am the rhythm of the pounding waves,
you the shore that never ends.

perhaps the light of the faraway lighthouse,
or the hint of beckoning stars...
will guide this ship to its destination,
to lie beneath the feet of love!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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What.... (If Not To Listen...)

what are we here for then
if not to listen...
to words spoken by the longing heart,
to the sound and inflections of suffering,
to the very heartbeat of need.
to the human cry against injustice,
to the song of freedom
borne by an angry wind...

to listen...
to the soft cry of the newborn baby,
to the moan of lovers entwined.
to the hum of the tractor,
and the thud of the axe.
to the hope of the hammer pounding nails.
to the voices of people choosing dialogue,
to the honest plea for forgiveness...

to listen...
to the song of the mockingbird,
the bark of the dog,
the meow of the cat...
to the marching chant of the ants.
to the sound of the butterfly's wings,
rhyming infinity!

to listen...
to the stillness in our own heartbeats.
for the name we had before birth.
to the prayers of clouds and trees.
for the sound of the Lover's footsteps.
to the ancient wisdom of mountains,
the forever birth of the rivers.
for the voice we've followed throughout time...

to listen...
for the bowls of hunger being filled.
for the silence after gunfire ends.
for the sound of hands joining ours.
for the sound of feet walking beside!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Fixed and to be not able to move and go beyond

You have fixed yourself like a pole
On this ground unable to move and go beyond
This daintiness (you call it carnality)
What you have in your mind
Are some parts of my human body
This thigh, this navel, this nipple
My legs my lips my tongue

You even hint on
The one that rises in the morning
When I make hot water and look for coffee
And cream
The sound of sipping you said you still crave

I honestly care for you
And I may even make love with you someday
(Or you may just kiss me on my cheek)
But try looking at me as one soul in this darkness
Feel my sighs hear my gentleness
And touch that softness at the center of my being
Light me up like a candle, let the light spread

Now see this lotus in the pond and then take a glimpse
Have awe and then wonder

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Rhythm Of The Heat

Looking out the window
I see the red dust clear
High up on the red rock
Stands the shadow with the spear
The land here is strong
Strong beneath my feet
It feeds on the blood
It feeds on the heat
The rhythm is below me
The rhythm of the heat
The rhythm is around me
The rhythm has control
The rhythm is inside me
The rhythm has my soul
The rhythm of the heat
The rhythm of the heat
The rhythm of the heat
The rhythm of the heat
Drawn across the plainland
To the place that is higher
Drawn into the circle
That dances round the fire
We spit into out hands
And breathe across the palms
Raising them up high
Help open to the sun
Self-conscious, uncertain
Im showered with the dust
The spirit enter into me
And I submit to trust
Smash the radio
No outside voices here
Smash the watch
Cannot tear the day to shreds
Smash the camera
Cannot steal away the spirits
The rhythm is around me
The rhythm has control
The rhythm is inside me
The rhythm has my soul

song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My God Walks

my god walks naked in the stillness...
her long hair falling in the moonlight.
her bare feet touching the earth,
her lips wet with the dew.
her breasts heave with the coming
and going of the waves...
her eyes shine like lanterns,
her breath bathes the trees...
and in her softness small animals take refuge...
in her growl change is born...
in her desire time is renewed.
and she sings the hymn of dialogue,
and touching, always touching....
she bends down to me and whispers
her hidden name...
while spiders and turtles begin
the work of redemption...
wolves howl, and mountains breathe...
my god takes the hand of the hungry child,
and walks past the point of distance!
while i follow the sound of my own heart,
to the point of nearness!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Forgotten Ship

A wind tossed ship lost at sea
heavy tempest blowing mightily
even that harbor light
which shines so bright
never to return my love to me

The sea, that judgmental sea
claimed the one promised to me
and no one who heard it could explain
the mysterious sound the waves made

The lighthouse searches the sound
for that forgotten ship never found
I walk the shipyard late and pray
to catch a glimpse of that familiar face

When the evening settles down, I sleep
an empty place beside me
lately having the same dream
I remember only partially

I hear a sound, forgotten yet familiar
I rise from my troubled slumber
and walk out to the open shore
which meets the sea as a door

I then see a man dragged to shore
drowned, why nobody knows
someone says it was insanity
trying to swim out to sea

The dream ends, I wake again
I listen to the sound the waves send
listening closer now to the bay
I hear my name called so faint

© 2009 by Kevin Howell

poem by Kevin Howell
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The Virtue Of Self-reliance....

i wait for no one
and no one waits for me

copy: i am an island
i touch no one and no one touches me

does this sound like poetry at all?
does this sound like an existential angst of one who wants to hold on the hooks of words
fished out from the confused waters?

for one, i haven't heard the cries for help
there is only the sound of feet and hands flapping like the fins of a fish
as though
someone is short of breath
and about to die

i like this,
this way to the door of the music room
sitting on a bench
facing a piano
as i begin to press and let my fingers travel distances
each note
takes me to nowhere, relying only on the sound of its longing
no destination, no purpose

ah, like a cocoon hanging on a leaf
merely passing the time away

without the dream of a butterfly
inside its darkness

ah, everything blooms,
everything opens

let us see how can this happen to me
watch me as i too watch you

this must be life then, surprises all surprises
how can boredom be so real?

how can jejune be June?
what about the numerical ennui on the month of May?

listen, listen
drink the silence
savor this inner peace

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Life Erupting...

i walk the hymn of life erupting,
the urine prayers, the sweat, the pus.
the gutteral cry of need evolving,
the phlegm of god, the bodies rotting.
the snow wiped faces
and the naked earth.

in constant rhythm with hunger's howl,
the candle flame, the silenced tongue.
the whisper shake, of shadows wanting,
nails, blocks, and colored glass.
the crippled dance,
and the distant drums.

who am i? i am you!
the second son of an unknown father.
born in an alley neath a starless sky,
my feet stink of human,
my eyes lit with desire...
talk to me when words are done!

the wet birthed babe,
the hot blood of giving.
the life caved in,
the searh for nipple.
the whiskey breath,
the cigarette memory,
the love torn chest,
the beak plucked heart.

the identity of the unknown soldier
who died in the ashes, unheard, unseen.
the hands that built with determined faith,
with common trust and common hope...
the weeping beneath the silence,
the silence beyond the grave....

talk to me when words are done!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Sexuality # 2

total awareness....
i taste your lips
in every dropp of rain

that falls....
i can feel your eyes
searching the darkness...

i hear your
cum cries in the
scree of the hawk....

i feel your clutching
in the wind against
my face....

i reach your depths
digging in the
rain damp earth...

i fill your cup
of longing with
the brandied sweat

of the soul...

i feel your nearness,
can taste you in
every breath i take....

there is no light
beyond your candle!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Spirit Revealed!

beneath every pebble on the path...
inside of each blade of grass.
contained in every raindrop,
set free in moonlight searching darkness.
in every tick of every moment,
in the hand that has a face
that has a name.
in the whisper of silence
that words cannot express,
in the hollow of the shell
that rhymes with echo....

every brown skinned face,
every white and black.
every song of the soul,
of backs bent with work.
every dream often unspoken,
every candle that churches cannot light.
every lover, every moan,
every bite and every thrust.
every angry hope, every desperate need...

every bridge, every alley,
every road, every tavern.
every city, every farmhouse,
every plant, every mill.
every library, every courtroom,
and yes every prison!
every door, and every key!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Sounds that should not be missed

Sound of blossom of a flower,
I desire to hear,
the sound of nature.

Sound of rain's glassy water drop,
over a roof's top,
the sound of joy.

Sound of beat of our heart,
through our ears caught,
the sound of wonder.

Sound of delicious supper in boil,
after a great day's toil,
the sound of hunger.

Sound of a mother's loving ballad,
hearing the cry of her toddler,
the sound of love! ! !

poem by Shyam Balaji
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When Eyes Meet

the most intense part of lovemaking
is when eyes meet and undress...
and the world dies, and is born anew.
storms rage, oceans swell,
trees are bent with longing.
paths touch, and are deeply burnt,
and thousands of years are spoken...
without a word, without a thought,
infinity revealed in touch!
the candle flickers, goes out,
and darkness itself becomes light...
wolves howl, and the moon whispers!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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By A Thousand Doors

perhaps now this ark is finished,
i can smell the distant dawn.
the light against the window be no stranger,
nor the sound of bare feet in the night.
the crows gather neath the pine tree,
as the wind prepares to die.
voices fallen from the trees,
mine a cloud, a branch, a stone.
it seems tonight the stars finally answer,
all this time i thought i was alone.
a child is born, a life is taken,
streetlights blink in perfect time.
while redemption sleeps in alleys,
and poets silently sweep.
the heart revealed no longer journeys,
for the destination be now the feet.
the tears of god gleam in the darkness,
a stranger's kiss, a soldier's prayer.
infidels gather jewels cast aside,
feed the hungry with human souls.
the song wrapped in plain brown paper,
left by a thousand doors!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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To A Friend That I Have Only Felt

if i shall not hear the sound of the wind again
i shall think of the shell

i shall imagine the flesh that once was there
the taste of my own tongue

i shall for a while remember but i cannot assure you
till when

for i am but a shell myself and time shall wrap me too
with emptiness

i shall be carried by the winds too and my tongue shall
not remember the taste of flesh the taste of water

and my skin shall not feel any coldness of the wind
my eyes cannot see what light has been in that previous darkness.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Stars That Waited To Fall

whose heart lies broken,
in tiny pieces reflecting even
the faintest hint of light?
whose soul is bruised,
whose lips are scarred?
whose tears fall,
like thunder in a cementary?
whose silence burns,
in the bitter cold?
whose breath hanging,
like clouds in the sunset?
whose hunger sharpens,
the web and the cave?
whose longing, whose storms,
whose desire that howls?
whose life hanging,
and who carried the cross?

who are we if not lovers,
if not dreamers who dream.
if not the gentleness of the hand,
and the fire of the tongue?
who are we if not history,
if not tomorrow and yesterday?
who are we if not the given,
stars that waited to fall?

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Lips To My Heart!

if you press
your lips to my heart,
you will taste the ocean...
the beginning of life,
and eons.

dont let the sound of the waves terrify!
curl into the rhythm and the pound!
forms ever evolving,
in the quest for light!

seaweed, and rolling darkness,
mounting as if some god.
thought opens the hand,
and names the fury,
that stillness best expresses!

drink deeply, my love...
so we are driven!
no limit to the vastness.
look up into my eyes,
and name your hunger...

let me wipe the salt from your lips!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Happiness

THIS perfect love can find no words to say.
What words are left, still sacred for our use,
That have not suffered the sad world's abuse,
And figure forth a gladness dimmed and gray?
Let us be silent still, since words convey
But shadowed images, wherein we lose
The fulness of love's light; our lips refuse
The fluent commonplace of yesterday.

Then shall we hear beneath the brooding wing
Of silence what abiding voices sleep,
The primal notes of nature, that outring
Man's little noises, warble he or weep,
The song the morning stars together sing,
The sound of deep that calleth unto deep.

poem by Edith Wharton
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Leaping Salmon

I will not dream another's sweet musings
when the truth is only partly known
the fruit is so sweet but of another knowledge

but face my own full on
naked in the darkness
and recognise that which has never been shown before
and dream it as my own

I will not share you with another
I cannot
for their knowledge would lack the spice of experience

I am the silver salmon driving out of the peat black water into the
daylight
Rising rising
timeless and heavy
Falling backwards into the darkness

I am inside you rising up through the water feeling the water rush past
my
flanks
light flickers above
Searching for the head waters

They are there. I smell them
Peatiness all round

I hold your flanks
Pass my hands to your front, beneath your gills
fingers just apart
sensing your power running past my fingers
Silver water running through my fingers

Pass my hands down your sides
Sense the water passing over my skin
Surges rising up
geysers of water silver spume

The salmon rises

My beautiful salmon, you rise and explode gasping in the electric air
showers of jewels tremble in the sunlight
the sound of a thousand water falls

The pinky darkness of your open mouth
catching the irresdecent droplets

Your flanks tremble in the sun

and fall

back into the enveloping water
bubbles rise
Dark fish sinks into the velvet darkness

Still Still Swish Still

Held like a chalice

poem by Anthony Dalby
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Morning Birds

i undress you in silence
with words that have fingers,
and need not sound,
or form....

embracing the light
hidden in your darkness,
i lick the years from your eyes.

and coming like rain,
i release your suffering,
drunk on the scent

of your being...
the song of morning birds,
a gift left by the wind...

on the step by your door!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Death of Silence

Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When even the soundless creature
Leave an echo
When the quiet evening sky
Speaks more volume 

Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When the darkness of night
Is calmed by the song of stars
When this cruel and frightening world
Is cheered by the joy of life

Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When the trees swaying their branches
Whispering the news from afar 
When the stone awaken to tell the story
And no more secret remains hidden

Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When the wind fills the void
And noises the ears
When the sunshine touches the skin
And screams in eyes

Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When you could taste the heart
Inside the food you eat
When you could understand 
The meaning the breath that taken

Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When smile is enough
To erase the rotten doubt 
When love is abundant
To wash the bitter pain

Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When the soul finds its freedom
And not chained in the grief of body
When the call is passing
Through the memory and time

poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Candle of Hope

Candle of Hope

Lost within space and time,
I am running, as I am
Following the stars before me-

Inside of my mind,
All I can see are moments of madness.
My hair, blowing in the wind, behind me, as I
Dash away from all that I fear,

My thoughts are far away from
Every moment in time,
As I am searching for a ray of hope to hold onto as
None of my dreams have ever
Come true-

If I could light a candle,
Perhaps its flame would guide me towards a miracle-
A miracle of my most promising fantasies becoming reality-
Where the darkness of night
Would transform to the levity of daybreak at sunrise-

I am lost in space and time, where
My world continues to darken-
Life has always been a bizarre journey for me where
Hope has yet to be found-

It is the stars that have given me an increment of light,
Illuminating a pathway before me, to give me
Some small hope that I would awaken
In some other world where
Love, fortune and peace of mind would
Overshadow mistrust and sadness-

I whisper in thought, somewhere in the back of my mind-
Light me a candle with a flame so bright,
That will break through dark clouds of doubt-
Whereby I would be running forward in time,
Finding wealth, joy, and hope never ending
As the flame on that candle
Would burn for an eternity
Only to guide me forward, not backward,
Leaving that life of misfortune behind me-

Claudia Krizay

poem by Claudia Krizay
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