Both Familiar And New!
i have an inherent belief
in what i have seen, felt, and heard...
in evolving through experience,
i do not follow well!
and yet i know things,
beyond definition or reason...
and have no need to limit
by concepts or by theory!
every leaf belongs to the tree,
but each is distinct, and individual!
even the wind has a name,
that few can hear or comprehend.
god is much more than god.
truth so simple it's complex.
death no more to be feared
than the coming of winter....
spring will come, spring will come!
this cup, half empty or half full,
holds just enough to drink.
fire burns hot, then burns down,
the body of today becomes worn and tired.
cosmos, or the simple barn and manger,
again and again the wise men search.
the journey long and arduous,
begins and ends in the self!
the only things that mark history,
are what is given and what is taken.
and in the end the face of god
looks both familiar and new!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Related quotes
Following The Sickness
Follow the sickness.
As the bodies dropp the fire burns.
And man is yet to learn.
Fighting our own shadows, fooled by our enemies.
They are the ones you just can't see.
The unaccepted theory is rejected yet again.
But still the chorus plays.
Follow the sickness.
As the bodies dropp the fire burns.
And man is yet to learn.
Follow the sickness.
As the bodies dropp the fire burns.
And man is yet to learn.
To whom it may concern.
A poetic letter, dressed in feathers.
Does it make it any prettier?
A distraction from the purpose.
Delivering the simplest of messages.
And still they are not heard.
Oh no they are never heard.
Follow the sickness.
As the bodies dropp the fire burns.
And man is yet to learn.
Follow the sickness.
As the bodies dropp the fire burns.
And man is yet to learn.
And man is yet to learn.
And man is yet to learn.
Foolish know it alls.
A change in circumstances will cause a sudden fall.
A broken bone, or ego?
A laceration or a severed artery?
Is it serious or superficial?
An inflamation that just won't go down.
Follow the sickness.
As the bodies dropp the fire burns.
And man is yet to learn.
And it has brought me here.
A million passersby's.
An angelic looking sky.
Prying the heavens for just one peek.
I wonder if it has what I seek.
A cure
A cure
For this world.
Follow the sickness.
As the bodies dropp the fire burns.
And man is yet to learn.
If you are ever lost just follow the sickness.
Its everywhere.
Just go from there.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Of Mice And Men
The fire burns on
and all that drives me on
till all is gone except
the simple plans of mice and men
Back when I was just 17
I thought that I knew everything
I could make it in this scene
To be a rising star that only gleamed
When all the answers disagreed
With the questions held for me
I was legal now at 21
I knew the way the world should run
My God, just look what I had done
Simply drunk and having fun
Looked for friends but I found none
All alone at 21
The fire burns on
and all that drives me on
till all is gone except
the simple plans of mice and men
At 25 I was suprised
That I was even half alive
somehow I managed to survive
I found my bodys' doing time
In my back a hundred knives
All from my friends at 25
And now as Gabriel sounds my warning bell
I'd buy your life if you would sell
and you would too if less compelled
So live your life and live it well
Theres not much left of me to tell
I just got back up each time I fell
The fire burns on
and all that drives me on
till all is gone except
the simple plans of mice and men
The fire burns on
and all that drives me on
till all is gone except
the simple plans of mice and men
song performed by by Megadeth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spring And Winter
Spring is near
It is visible in the rear-
View mirror, winter is going to a far away place
From where it'll move at a very slow pace
It will encircle the Earth
And curb every birth
Spring will follow,
Fill life in the things gone hollow
Spring will make all the flowers shine
While winters make every one whine
Spring gives a pleasant touch to everything
Winter gives dullness to even bling
Spring will come and make us dance
While in winter, we don't like such a chance
Winter makes us crave for quilt and the sun
In spring, even failure seems something we won
In winter we search for everything hot
In spring, greenery spreads a lot
And makes us miss it when it is gone
Like we miss night every winter dawn
I hope spring comes soon
And be what it is supposed to be - a boon
I miss spring every single night
Come spring soon, the time has come, the time is right!
poem by Aishwarya Misra
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Cannot Be Confined (for Romeo Della Valle)
the truth...
cannot be confined
to concepts,
or even words.
sometimes what is felt
is too deep to express.
or perhaps the spirit moans,
and only a few can hear...
usually the ones
who've been beaten the most.
that fire in the gut,
that burns the last thing
grasped for...
and leaves the heart as naked
as the whore on the corner.
but even she knows
more than priests or philosophers...
she lies sleepless in the dawn,
with the taste of blood in her mouth!
and the small boy cold
in the empty room...
praying for his mother,
hunger gnawing at his face.
the people who hide,
in huts and in caves...
from the sounds of the bombing,
from a war they dont understand.
and the old man hard,
who doesnt say much anymore.
who just stares out the window,
clenching and opening his hands.
the fire burns slowly,
and the night is long!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Wild Is The Wind
Love me, love me, love me, love me
Say you do
Let me fly away with you
For my love is like the wind
And wild is the wind
Wild is the wind
Give me more than one caress
Satisfy this hungriness
Let the wind blow through your heart
Oh wild is the wind
Wild is the wind
You touch me
I hear the sound of mandolins
You kiss me
With your kiss my life begins
Youre spring to me
All things to me
Dont you know
Youre life itself!
Like the leaf
Clings to the tree
Oh my darling cling to me
For were like creatures of the wind
And wild is the wind
Wild is the wind
You touch me
I hear the sound of mandolins
You kiss me
With your kiss my life begins
Youre spring to me
All things to me
Dont you know
Youre life itself!
Like the leaf
Clings to the tree
Oh my darling cling to me
For were like creatures of the wind
And wild is the wind
Wild is the wind, wild is the wind
Wild is the wind, wild is the wind
(dimitri tiomkine/ned washington)
song performed by by George Michael
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fire Of Spring
Spring: What do you see like this?
Fire: To you
Spring: Please I entreat you
Fire: What to do? I can’t bear darkness
Spring: Naughty, not to utter thus. Come here.
Fire: May I set fire to wax candle?
Spring: Put on spectacles, other wise
No surplus will remain.
Fire: Oh! You are very miserly.
Spring: OK Think- you are lying under a tree in hard sun light-in this moment what will be your temperament?
Fire: You are upon a hand; our child is upon another, crystal blue sky in front.
Spring: I see! Have you ever seen that fair of children darken the blue sky?
Fire: Yes, I saw that in your eye, on your lip, inside the rib bone.
Spring: OK
Fire: Oh! No, do not talk; close your eyes, why so sweat scent in your hair?
Spring: At your chest too...
Fire: Surging fire on my body
Always, couldn’t you see that?
Spring: How could I see? The thunder-the flood reside on my body too.
Fire: You are carrying so much thunder and flood why did not you tell me before?
Spring: How could I say? Did I know that so much?
Fire at your heart!
Fire: Leave it. Now you have come to know.
Spring: Hey-I entreat you, do not touch my hub. Earth quake sleeps there.
Fire: Oh! Really you are very beautiful and natural, A very exciting eminent on your thigh looks.
Spring: Entreat, I entreat you, do not touch there. Earth Quake sleeps there also.
poem by Bongokobida Zakaria
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My Choice
There's a cup half full
and one half empty.
From which one shall I drink?
I will always drink
from the one half full
for I'm an optimist.
Iwill not drink
from a cup half empty
for then I will persist
with a fear of losing
and never having enough.
So set 2 cups before me
My decision isn't tough.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Wild Is The Wind
Love me, love me, love me, love me, say you do
Let me fly away with you
For my love is like the wind, and wild is the wind
Wild is the wind
Give me more than one caress, satisfy this hungriness
Let the wind blow through your heart
For wild is the wind, wild is the wind
You touch me, I hear the sound of mandolins
You kiss me
With your kiss my life begins
Youre spring to me, all things to me
Dont you know, youre life itself!
Like the leaf clings to the tree,
Oh, my darling, cling to me
For were like creatures of the wind, wild is the wind
Wild is the wind
You touch me, I hear the sound of mandolins
You kiss me
With your kiss my life begins
Youre spring to me, all things to me
Dont you know, youre life itself!
Like the leaf clings to the tree,
Oh, my darling, cling to me
For were like creatures in the wind, and wild is the wind
Wild is the wind
Wild is the wind
Wild is the wind
Wild is the wind
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Feeling Of Half-ness
i had long known that i cannot be full
i am always a glass half full.
This feeling of not having gone at length
to the place where i want to put all my legs and my hands
and let them do something that is so complete.
My cheeks are blushing.
My ears do not fully hear what I am saying to my heart.
My heart beats but always in half notes
In Whispers so that You may not hear everything
That I want to say. Always concealing.
Hiding the true color of this state: halfway
Half asleep. Half awake.
At the middle of things, I shall always be.
I am neither the beginning
Nor the End. I want to speak, but there are no words coming.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Half The World
Half the world lives,
Half the world makes,
Half the world gives
While the other half takes.
Half the world hates,
Half the world runs away,
Half the world's late,
Half the world praises the day.
Half the world is,
Half the world was,
Half the world thinks,
Half the world does.
Half the world lies,
Half the world burns,
Half the world cries
While the other half turns.
Half the world cares,
Half the world weeps,
Half the world shares,
Half the world keeps.
Half the world sings,
Half the world laughs,
Half the world brings,
Half the world tries to be the other half.
End.
Dead Things Thumb And Forefinger As They Probe
dead things thumb and forefinger as they probe
without feeling the origin of the
final event, I watch clinically
the unstaring face for the first half breath
proof of the coming fire. death things thumb and
forefinger probe the beginnings of the
search for life. from the beginning the search
is for signs. of fire life and the pot of
fire that precedes the dead. searching the hand
sowing desire dying beginning the
search for signs. there is no escaping
now in silence a space is won. a sign
is found. fire fills the soft walled room. tide flows
and I walk in the fire. the staff of life
is full and free. do not die before me
Jan 18.1974
poem by Umashankar Manthravadi
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In Winter's Arms
Winter holds me with his arms of icy white,
and kissed my breath with frost upon the pane.
Subdued by touch of winter's frigid hand,
I pray for spring to find me once again.
O'wind, you whistle to the winter's tune.
Your melody is heard 'pon day and night,
but one day spring will come to rescue me,
and wisk away your song of winter's blight.
O'tree, you're frozen in the winter's dream.
Your leaves have left you 'neath a moon of white,
but when my prayers are answered 'pon spring's dawn,
you'll thaw beneath its sun with warm delight.
O'field, your harvest has been reaped and spent ~
and winter blankets you 'neath snowy mounds.
Yet one day soon in springtime's rising mist
you'll feel the greening of your earth rebound.
Winter holds me with his arms of icy white,
and kissed my breath with frost upon the pane ~
but deep within I somehow always know,
that spring will come and find me once again.
poem by Hazelmarie Elliott
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This First Full Day Of Spring
Today is the first day of Spring in the southern hemisphere.....
With spring the seasons start anew
The cycle starts again
As each fresh shoot begins to show
And pollen flowers send
The stirrings of this fecund time
The sun higher in the sky
A time of new awakenings
Set free from winter’s sigh
And so each spring time happening
With the promise that it brings
Reminds us all of life itself
And we give thanks for many things
The heady days of summer
Ripe autumn’s harvesting
For all that will be comes to us
This first full day of spring.
poem by David Keig
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When Death
(Yet another early work - one month shy of 17)
When death is coming up your walk,
And you're unaware of his escence,
You invite him in, and have a talk
Which reeks of omniprescence
When death is sitting in your home
And you're enchanted by his smile
He's been to places like Paris and Rome,
You ask him to stay awhile
When death is leaning very near,
And your house is all aglow,
He whispers something in your ear,
You know it's time to go
When death is touching you all around
And he plays within your head,
You cannot see, nor hear a sound,
You know you'll soon be dead
When death becomes a part of you,
In the still of night
There is nothing you can do,
Until you see the light
When death takes you to the place
Where you'll see the light,
You will not find a familiar face,
But you'll be too tired to fight
When death begins to say good bye
And says you're on your own
You watch the light, and then you sigh -
You see how bright it's grown
When death gets up, and walks through the light
(Which feels like half-melted ice)
You follow him through to discover your plight
And find you're in paradise
poem by Michael Troy Buffo
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The Unanswerable Question
A simple gift.
Many things can be meant from it.
Love, friendship, kindness and caring.
All of these can com from such a simple thing.
A rose is such a gift.
But this can be used for many things.
A birthday, an anniversary, a holiday, a funeral...
How can a simple thing be so sad?
This is a question that cannot be answered.
For the ones that can answer are already in our memories,
waiting for the day that we will join them..
We live and learn,
trying to make the best of our lives as possible.
A simple gift to me only means one thing to me,
that the world isnt as great as we thought.
It ends all the same.
It ends with death.
poem by Jeremiah Wimbrough
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Salt Is.... Just Salty
There's so much in this world I cannot explain
The greatest scholars try in vain
Not because the knowledge is so loft
Not because we're growing soft
Nor because it's abstract
But in fact
Quite the opposite
Because some words there's just not a definition that can fit
The problem doesn't come from the objects
It's the simplicity that does perplex
Even the wisest of us all
Our logic does fall
Because it is so far below
How do we define the? What about slow
There's salt, and memory, and even know
What do we know if we don't know such words
People complain of jargon, taxonomic names for birds
But they can't even define what's simple
With that problem, man we got our hands full
We just cop out
Said that salt is salty, the is the, we live without
A real definition, but I think it's those words that are most profound
Belief, God Truth the list goes on, but this is where true wisdom is found
There's the trivial we can seek define
Or there's the words that matter most which will define
Us, it's those words I think that we should not just verbalize
But instead simply realize
That the definition is known by experience
It's indescribable because they're just that amazing
Our inexperience
Of what's unimportant is as tragic as not knowing
Our own Father, and the pursuit of other things to define us
Is as trivial as looking for a definition of truth.
poem by David Knox
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Simple Things
simple things are the simple thoughts to a
simple man
like me
simple things like a coin where there is no face of me
or you
but it can buy me something to shame me of my
poverty and helplessness
a simple yawn
i haven't really slept
to the minimum that my eyes need
and look at these eyes
they are sinking to my sockets
a simple
word is all i need and i will always repeat it
'love'
'me'
this is the simple man, let there be no complications
about
spelling
or ethics
i am a simple man and morality is too hard for me to understand
all i ask is that you must
love me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Simplicity
What I seek far yet seldom find
Is large simplicity of mind
In fellow men;
For I have sprouted from the sod,
Like Bobbie Burns, my earthly god,
--From plough to pen.
So I refuse my brain to vex
With problems prosy and complex,
Beyond my scope;
To me simplicity is peace,
So I persue it without cease,
And growing hope.
"The world is too much with us," wrote
Wise Wordsworth, whom I love to quote,
When rhymes are coy;
And simple is the world I see,
With bud and bloom and brook and tree
To give me joy.
So blissfully I slip away
From brazen and dynamic day
To dingle cool . . .
Now tell me friend, if in your eyes,
By being simple I am wise,--
Or just a fool?
poem by Robert William Service
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The Promise Of Spring
JUST a whisper, half-heard,
But our heart knows the word;
Caresses that seem
Like love's lips in a dream;
Yet we know she is here,
The desirèd, the dear,
The love of the year!
In the murmur of boughs,
In the softening of skies,
In the sun on the house,
In the daffodil's green
(Half an inch, half-unseen
Mid the mournful brown mould
Where the rotten leaf lies)
Her story is told.
O Spring, darling Spring,
O sweet days of blue weather
The thrushes shall sing,
Fields shall grow green again,
Daisies be seen again,
Hedges grow white;
Then down the lane,
Grown leafy again,
Shall go lovers together--
Lovers who see again
Sunshine and showers,
Perfume and flowers,
Dewy dear hours,
Dream and delight.
Warm shall nests be again,
Winter's behind us;
Springtime shall find us,
Taking our hands,
Lead us away from the cold and the snow,
Into the green world where primroses grow.
Winter, hard winter, forgotten, forgiven;
All the old pain paid, to seventy times seven,
All the new glory a-glow.
Love, when Spring calls, will you still turn away?
Winter has wooed you in vain, and shall May?
Love, when Spring calls, will you go?
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Slowly Into Winter
the leaves slowly cascade down
to the ground
as winter turns slowly to winter
the wind blows them around
untill the cold freezes them to the ground
as winter turns slowly to winter
i return each year to find my leaf lying here
each spring it renews it's promise
this year i didn't wait! after the first spring storm
from its branch it was torn, it lied to me again
so this fall, before the free winds blew
i went to my tree and picked the loveliest leaf icould find
and kept it with mine
untill winter turned slowly to spring
poem by Francis E.rudy
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