Between My Teeth!
it is in the darkened hallways
of the mind that has no boundaries,
in the silent moment between sin and glory,
when there really is no difference....
in the pause between thunder and lightning,
when mountains are oceans,
and oceans are acorns.
in the infinity between breaths,
and the illusion between death and life.
in the cardboard box that holds lifetimes,
in the universe beneath tiny wings.
in snowflakes, and tiny crumbs of starlight,
on the wet lips of the hungry wolf.
in the droppings of a thousand bats,
and the swinging trunks of elephants.
in the drunken stagger from the grave,
and the space between notes where music is born.
in the sound of waves a hundred miles from the shore,
in the cleft beneath the tongue where god sleeps.
in the frozen wasteland between our bodies,
where fire waits for the few who dare.
in the crucifix, the cock, and the prism,
in the empty glass,
and the book unread.
it is there that you will find me,
with your heart between my teeth!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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A Torch, A Hand, A Cross!
the silent graves are shouting,
the waves come for the shore.
the time of thunder beckons,
the page is left unsigned.
miracles turn to ashes,
in the hearth of limitless time.
love burns in small fires left unnoticed,
the copper kettle is blind.
there's nothing left to say,
for words are tiny shells.
tiny shells cant hold oceans,
still oceans seek a home!
i only pray perhaps the snow will bring,
a torch, a hand, a cross!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Forest Sprite
There was a little fairy
Sat beneath a tree -
Humming to her tiny self
A haunting melody;
Just a little tinkle
Was all that I could hear
Floating on the evening breeze
High and crystal clear;
Surrounded by a rainbow,
Sparkles lit the air -
Tiny wings did flutter
Sprinkling gold dust in her hair;
A tiny little forest sprite
Had slipped the bonds of space,
Perhaps a mere imagined thought
Had brought her to this place;
How sweet the sound she echoed
Within this forest spot -
Though I had never seen a sprite
Her image now I caught;
This tiny little fairy
Sat beneath a tree -
Humming to her tiny self
A haunting melody.
Seans In The Sky
-daddy, when did we have no house?
-when?
-when, when did we have no house and we rented this house?
-in 1973, we didnt have this house, yet, thats when we bought this house
-oh!
-two years before you were born
-oh, and I just wasnt coming with you? to find this house?
-no, well you werent born yet. you were still in the sky.
-oh, and when I came back, was down here, what did I went in?
-a little, a little cardboard box. with a little blanket in, little teeny tiny
Teeny tiny little boy in a little tiny cardboard box. they used to have apples in it, hmm
You used to do this here.
-a apple box!
-well, a little cardboard box, you see. like they bring groceries in. and it was you instead of the groceries.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Lost Joy
While I wander around the world
From the Mountains to the Oceans,
From the deserts to the abundance of green
Searching for joy of yesterdays,
The small ripples of bliss
Could never become even the tiny waves
And the boundary of my heart, they did ever miss.
Not a long ago, I had overflowing shore
By just gazing at mysterious stars of the night sky,
Watching the flapping of wings of butterflies,
Chasing the cut kites
Or seeing a grasshopper fly,
While I held the thread and its tail was tied.
Getting drenched in heavy rain
And floating the paper boats in waterlogged lane,
Creating traps to catch sparrows
Or move around like Rama with bow and arrows
Were the days of boundless joy,
When the mind was fearless for a careless boy!
That limitless joy seems to have been lost beneath the heap of knowledge,
Piled up over the years of adulthood and adolescence.
I lost my enigmatic world, Alas!
I lost my childhood innocence.
poem by Kingshuk Chakraborty
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Chapters In Bodies
we write chapters in bodies
wrapped around shared thought...
constantly dying, constantly being born.
sweat, semen, urine, and breast milk,
spilled on the altar of being.
the nipples, lips, and balls of the infinite...
we create fire from darkness's tears.
hands come together across lifetimes,
bridging oceans, distance, and time.
what fools to think it is by chance!
perhaps miracle, but neither magic,
nor opportunity!
we are the tree falling,
the ground waiting,
and the space between.
we are cosmos, litter, and dust!
the kiss a cross, the touch a journey,
the beating of wings that shudders and joins!
angels and demons both stand breathless,
in awe of lovers returning, and burning...
with a blaze, so hungry it's gone!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Zipper my tongue
notice me not; i am zipper by the fence of
my teeth and close by the lips, protected by two
holes beneath the two big eye balls rap with color
little hair, to feel it shiny tiny cloth of skin to tell
why keep in talking if the heart can't improve
good silent, and why the nose always breathing
when, the same air, feel in the air, would it's not
easy for the ears listen and talk to the wind after
the dawn of silent
sleep my dear heart; let us always open the mouth
and touch the teeth for every silent the tongue will
speak; for each return claps the hands where the pin
is on
what then the little heart tell, when the big blind
mouth says that; the waiting is over for everything is
ready to a harder fight, and win a better glorious
victory, its not the right aim yet, the best shoot it
gain
stop my apology; the same things happen again,
please switch a new beginning for my awesome
heart zipper my tongue forever......
poem by Antonio Liao
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Iron Coffins
Dedicated to the submariners everywhere, past, present and future.
The sea holds many secrets
in the darkness of its depths
and men being men have dived
beneath the waves in iron coffins.
Some have gone there
to fight an unseen war on passing ships,
while others have dived
to depths for exploration.
No matter what they did,
at times their machines
became iron coffin
to entomb them on the oceans floors.
Each who sails beneath the waves
holds their breath for a moment
always hoping to return
as they dove - alive.
However, there have been many.
Who have been lost below
in the iron coffin that they rode.
12 April 2010
poem by David Harris
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Signs and Tribulations
Beaneath the sky are puzzles of clouds:
pieces of dreams, reflections of life,
vicious problems the world has.
From tiny creatures to gigantic trees,
Oceans to mountains, she watches;
She cries but only little we know,
Her anger is louder than a dropp of snow:
So, 'you want more rain? ' A THUNDER roared!
with a flash of LIGHTNING, a FIRE soared!
while the monstrous river awaits its FLOOD,
TORNADO whirled and HURICANE came.
VOLCANOES 'replied, ' but an EARTHQUAKE 'shook! '
'BEHOLD THE SUN WHEN IT NO LONGER SHINES,
and on this day, it's God's turn to ask you, 'WHY? ''
poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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The Widening Sky
I am so small walking on the beach
at night under the widening sky.
The wet sand quickens beneath my feet
and the waves thunder against the shore.
I am moving away from the boardwalk
with its colorful streamers of people
and the hotels with their blinking lights.
The wind sighs for hundreds of miles.
I am disappearing so far into the dark
I have vanished from sight.
I am a tiny seashell
that has secretly drifted ashore
and carries the sound of the ocean
surging through its body.
I am so small now no one can see me.
How can I be filled with such a vast love?
poem by Edward Hirsch
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Twenty
This is my world, small as it is,
It is a planet by itself with very
Small moons, and tiny stars,
And so tiny, you cannot just
See me there, I am hiding,
But I still live here just the same,
Breathing atomic air, and drinking
Molecular waters, so you see,
How tiny I could be, how tiny
I could get, but this is my
Small happy world, my smile
My laughter so tiny, that you
Cannot hear, you cannot feel,
And that is your world as big
As the sun, with comets and
Meteors, and so big and so
Wide, with oceans and rivers,
And continents, and gigantic
Arctics, and snowy lands, and
We are then so different, and
With me, there is no problem,
I, in my small world, can fit
In yours, but you, you cannot
Fit in mine, that we must
Accept, I am a small world,
And you are a space still expanding,
Now, do you understand,
why I hide?
why I shy away from you?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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This Is My World That Is Your World
This is my world, small as it is,
It is a planet by itself with very
Small moons, and tiny stars,
And so tiny, you cannot just
See me there, I am hiding,
But I still live here just the same,
Breathing atomic air, and drinking
Molecular waters, so you see,
How tiny I could be, how tiny
I could get, but this is my
Small happy world, my smile
My laughter so tiny, that you
Cannot hear, you cannot feel,
And that is your world as big
As the sun, with comets and
Meteors, and so big and so
Wide, with oceans and rivers,
And continents, and gigantic
Arctics, and snowy lands, and
We are then so different, and
With me, there is no problem,
I, in my small world, can fit
In yours, but you, you cannot
Fit in mine, that we must
Accept, I am a small world,
And you are a space still expanding,
Now, do you understand,
why I hide?
why I shy away from you?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fogging Up The Windows
the sound of a small child crying
hungry in the night
of a young woman sleepless
waiting for daylight
the sound of church bells ringing
not too far away
the sound of an old man dying
remembering how to pray
the sound of two hearts breaking
a thousand miles apart
of the last tear a fallin'
unseen in the dark
the sound of lifetimes wasted
of a love that didnt last
the sound of memories forgotten
of a time already past
can you hear?
can you hear?
a lone tree a fallin'
a hoot owl callin'
life and death, a lover's breath
fogging up the windows
of an empty room...
fogging up the windows
of an empty room...
the sound of the nails driven
into His screaming hands
the sound of salvation
entrusted to a man
the sound of bodies falling
of buildings swept by flame
the sound of different voices
whose souls are the same
can you hear?
can you hear?
a lone tree a fallin'
a hoot owl callin'
life and death, a lover's breath
fogging up the windows
of an empty room...
fogging up the windows
of an empty room....
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Follow (I Am The Flute)
i follow...
the hoot of the owl,
the smoke that leads
to the fire.
the hollow of the hand,
to the hard and the soft.
the salt of the sea
to the dark and murky unknown.
the erection and the breast,
to the womb that creates.
lightning to the thunder,
and thunder to lightning.
the hammer to the nail,
the bullet through the barrel.
the spirit through the book,
back to the tree in the forest.
the body to the grave,
the universe back to dust.
i follow...
the sound of the flute,
till i come to see...
that i follow nothing,
and no one at all!
for i am the path,
and the feet that walk.
i am the flute,
the sound and the lips.
i am the breath,
the desire, and the vision...
for i am no one,
and nothing at all!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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To Find The Home!
i drink the cup
that is your flesh...
i revere your scars,
your bruises,
the stink of your heart.
the scent of your eyes,
the silence of your ears...
my tongue writes your body
on infinity's glass!
i listen for your voice
beneath the trees.
i feel your nearness
in the hoot of the owl.
i share your anguish
by the silent small fire....
the horse i ride,
bears your name.
i am the ghost of city streets,
the body left for the wolves
on the mountainside.
i am the air frozen with fear,
as the great bear stands
in magnificent fury.
you are the bridge,
the lantern, and the hound.
the purple struck sky
of sunset eternal.
the body that feels,
smells, and tastes like love...
the moan that stills the wind!
this distance but a paper veil,
a wisp of smoke,
the moment before and after.
the call of death,
the threshold of storm...
set the fire...
and walk away!
(sometimes you have to burn
the building down...
to find the home!)
poem by Eric Cockrell
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There's Milk Beneath This Poem
there's milk beneath this poem, and blood
aswirl, like a marble cake of moments half-baked;
there's blood beneath this poem, and tears
unmixed like oil in a rain barrel of thoughts;
there's tears beneath this poem, and come
awash with a million squirming attempts to awaken;
there's come beneath this poem, and the sea
unforgiving, with its undertow of fears, unknown and unsought.
there's milk beneath this poem, and silent screams
unheard for years and moments, draping the hallways;
there's silent screams beneath this poem, and mad laughter
adrift in the corrridors of the family myth, undone;
there's mad laughter beneath this poem, and choking sobs
unmoving in my throat, like a chicken bone, unloved, always;
there's choking sobs beneath this poem, and gnashing teeth
awash with the bitter taste of sweet defeat, like bile, or yesterday's onions.
there's milk beneath this poem, and time
like the blank white page before me;
there's time beneath this poem, and space
where the emptiness is reborn as room to move;
there's space beneath this poem, and thought
rumbling like the very voice of god himself, imploring that
there's thought beneath this poem, and all
is like nothing else, so much as the need to love;
there's milk beneath this poem, and all
the death on earth can't change that.
© Copyright 2010 christo (UN: christo13 at Writing.Com) . All rights reserved.
poem by Christo Andrus
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Endless Skies
I've been to the edge of the earth
Haven't we all? Heaven's what it's called
That old sacred place of our birth
No clouds were above me
Nor land was beneath me.
The winds were an unknown crowd
But the tides were my carpet
and the oceans my tiles
The stars glistened above me
as the sun brushed the sea
and the lies of this life regressed beneath the waves
The ocean swells separated my heart, body and soul
And only my heart was left alone
To tell of an untold toll.
The day turned to nigh'
Tis' A cold empty grave
And I sank, sank sank.
Beyond the sea floor
Beyond the core.
Till' i found my place abroad.
No crimson crowns or lovely hills but
A prisoner of war
poem by Nicholas Rahming
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Waiting For The Spider
how many small deaths?
nickels and dimes in dust filled pockets...
are we drifting off to sleep?
out to sea?
or further from the core?
we die in circles,
circles within circles.
with small short breaths hurled
on the hairy plate of eternity.
a thousand tiny fires,
built by unseen hands
on darkened roads...
a thousand tiny deaths!
or a thousand stop the world kisses,
when names and identities are forgotten,
if but for an eternal moment.
how many times must i be the butterfly?
the snail? the hummingbird flying backwards?
or just stagnant water in a cast aside tire...
waiting for the spider?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Flattery And Praise
flattery comes
from your
teeth out
praise comes
from inside
the heart
an appreciation
that is sincere
something
that you do not
believe
because we are
oceans and oceans
apart
because i cannot
touch you
because i
have no wings
you must have
thought of
drift woods
and sails
without rudders
of men
without hearts
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A little Flower
A flower grew out of the ground
A tiny flower from the dirt
A tiny living soul from underground
A baby crawling from the dirt
A little innocence of wild color
A tiny spark of hope
A tiny pleasure free of charge
A flower that i called my own
A little baby ran towards it
A tiny flower crushed beneath the feet
A little human innocence
A little bliss destroyed by ignorance
A little flower dead on the ground
A little baby jumping up and down
And only me from my own window, witnessed the death of my own flower beneath the feet of blissful child without idea of his first crime...
poem by Dmitriy Kokarev
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When we kiss
When we kiss
I hold your face and lift your lips
To my lips
We close our eyes
To see the place where we have not been
Once
We plunge in the depths of the oceans
Of our emotions
The two of us
In the ecstasy beneath
On the surface of the silent floors
The place where we have not been
Once
There we shall be free
From the chains of ourselves
There we shall be one
Heart beating for love
For life
There our pains are ours
There we shall meet again
Not knowing
Who we are
Our names now forgotten
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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