For Shadow, For Dust!
the old woman,
face bruised and wrinkled,
clothes dirty and worn...
lies alone in the bed,
except for the cat...
shadows whisper, she moans,
as if closing a book.
even the hungry walls are silent...
the pages of the book
tattered and yellowed.
her teeth broken or gone,
her fist clenched tight,
the comfort of no one,
the prayer to no god.
the clock on the wall ticks amen...
her spirit taken, her fist opened,
a bag of trash falls in the corner,
the old cat runs for shadow,
for dust...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Related quotes
Something Uncommon
the little boy cried
last night he clenched his fist
and demanded
in fury that the window be opened
the mother who was not there
talked over the phone
through the elder girl
who was in charge of their
affairs
sensing the danger of
what may happen when the
window is opened
it was simple
i mean the boy's demand was simple
he clenched his fist against the moon
for what reason
i do not really know
at his young age at three
though i've been there once
i still cannot figure out why?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Love Trash
Refrain] Oh, I love trash!
Anything dirty or dingy or dusty
Anything ragged or rotten or rusty
Yes, I love trash
I have here a sneaker that's tattered and worn
It's all full of holes and the laces are torn
A gift from my mother the day I was born
I love it because it's trash
[Refrain]
I have here some newspaper thirteen months old
I've wrapped some fish inside it, it's smelly and cold
But I wouldn't trade it for a big pot o' gold
I love it because it's trash
[Refrain]
I've a clock that won't work, and an old telephone
A broken umbrella, a rusty trombone
And I am delighted to call them my own
I love them because they're trash
[Refrain, ending with]...Yes, I love, I love, I love trash
song performed by by Aerosmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who Am I? I Am! (Part Two)
i am the abandoned dog,
covered with ticks.
i am the wedding ring
flung against the wall.
i am the old man
who cant seem to remember
why he did what he did.
i am the restless boy
roaming the streets.
i am the old woman waiting
for her check to come.
i am the rent unpaid,
and the lights cut off.
i am the gun in the corner,
covered with dust.
i am the broken teeth
of the homeless man.
i am a child of Jesus,
and a renegade sinner.
i am the buddha in the dumpster,
covered with trash.
i am a Muslim, a Hindu,
and a Bhakti searcher.
i am the atheist who questions,
the prodigal who repents.
i am the gallows, the prison,
and the prison of fear.
i am more than less,
and less than more.
i am black, i am white,
i am brown, i am red...
i am human, i am eternal,
i am dust, i am tears....
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Fist
A fist is worn by the man who has a skull,
Killing the bones, taking on something mindful;
It rested in the chest, the heart, where it bled
Due to heat and head being hard, in the bed.
I say flowers are outside, wonderful lies,
Youth angered by crouching and it dies.
The fist strongest still flees from the army,
Afterwards, the expedition ended mournfully.
Destroy any son or daughter for anger,
The anger is God’s solution and manufacture;
The fist is a choice of man and woman
Then it decides for the luck is incarceration.
poem by Naveed Akram
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175
Gulped from the fist by the mouth
engulfed by the gut
spilled to the, tasting blood
the heart clenched it fist, while the crony brain
lit up like a fishing village.
poem by Morgan Michaels
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It Is March
It is March and black dust falls out of the books
Soon I will be gone
The tall spirit who lodged here has
Left already
On the avenues the colorless thread lies under
Old prices
When you look back there is always the past
Even when it has vanished
But when you look forward
With your dirty knuckles and the wingless
Bird on your shoulder
What can you write
The bitterness is still rising in the old mines
The fist is coming out of the egg
The thermometers out of the mouths of the corpses
At a certain height
The tails of the kites for a moment are
Covered with footsteps
Whatever I have to do has not yet begun
poem by William Stanley Merwin
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Face Book
you see
your face
not about
face book...
in mirror also
you did not see
but..
you see
your face
on sick
on smile
on angry
on hungry
on sex
on silent
also you see your faces
in outer only
you see your
inside face
that is tell about you
true face...
that is not simple
try again and again...
one day you see
your real face...
that is not about in face book...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Buddha Steps # 7
take all of your clothes off!
stand in front of a long mirror.
there you are!
no costumes, no makeup, no lies.
just you.
greying, wrinkled, toes and fingers
bent;
shadows under your eyes,
bruised, and worn.
there you are!
in all the beauty
of years and scars.
breathing, aching, just being.
lifetimes and stories written
in human flesh, and hope.
beauty!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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In An Old Diary
Faded pink petals
tween old yellowed pages
In a time worn ol’ diary
Filled with eras and ages
Leaves, red and golden
Pressed between old yellowed pages
Of old diaries beholden
to lives unfolded stages
Still linger on pages
Faint aromas and memories
Of phases and stages
All now, long lost histories
Tarnished brass clasps
Still holds e’er so tight
As did young hands once grasp
To their breast in the night
Fervent feelings writ in faded black ink
Young hopeful yearnings from the past
Love and longing, an enduring link
Diaries, as do lives, grow old e’er so fast
on withered old hands one laid on the other
Lines of blue veins trace out as a map
In repose on a tattered old cover
Of an old diary, in an old lady’s lap
poem by David Whalen
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Mirror of Lies
My Mirror Of Lies...
There is no where I can hide...
No one for me to confide...
I look at my life...
The Shadows following close behind me
The Dark that engulfs my sight
Fight or Flight?
It has always been flight
I see my twin in the mirror,
the mirror of lies
Tears flowing out of my eyes...
The mirror putting an artificial smile
With relief I sigh...
You see what I want you too
Fooled, Tricked, Dicieved
The one you see is not me
I raise my clenched fist
Shatter the mirror of lies
The broken shards which fly
Glimmering lies... My nasty web
When the mirror is gone...
When someone I'm not is gone...
The demon arrives...
Reality is on which I can close my eyes...
But not the memories...
poem by Lisa Martin
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The Courtroom Is Empty
the courtroom is empty,
the gavel untouched.
no hands on the book,
no jury of twelve.
(and the hands of the clock
have stopped!)
small children killed, tossed in the trash,
women abused, old people hungry, alone.
young girls sold into slavery
young boys sold into war
homeless ghosts walk the halls,
without hope in man or God.
and there's no sound, no feeling,
not even a breath of air
(and the hands of the clock
have stopped!)
an American tragedy,
or just human tragedy.
justice bought and sold,
afforded by just the few.
the wheels of Wall Street turn,
politicians barter with lives.
drinking the blood of the babies
that will never be born!
the takers keep taking,
and the honest man falls
to die nameless in the ditch,
covered by ashes and dust.
and there's no sound, no feeling,
not even a breath of air.
(the hands of the clock
have stopped!)
the courtroom is empty
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Tight
Hold tight
Nothing missing
Look around
Pupils listen
Can you listen?
Or is it that
You've learnt too much
What's your limit
You know you've heard
Teeth are clenched
A pack of lies -- yeah
Chords in the neck are tense
So hold tight
Sometimes it seems to make no sense
And don't you cry
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Hold tight
Yeah, I can see ya
You got it all under your skin
Turn around where you stand
Everybody takes aim at adversity
You know you've heard
Teeth are clenched
A pack of lies -- yeah
Chords in the neck are tense
So hold tight
Sometimes it seems to make no sense
And don't you cry
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Hold tight
I got ya message
I got it all
And there's no limit
The travel between our dreams
Has not come to an end
So let's keep up
Our unholy alliance
You know you've heard
Teeth are clenched
A pack of lies -- yeah
Chords in the neck are tense
So hold tight
Sometimes it seems to make no sense
And don't you cry
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Submitted by Michael Hack
song performed by by INXS
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Abused Child
' Please don't hit me anymore daddy, I love you, I'll stay in my bed'
He screamed back ' I'll make you wish you were dead'
But the belts weren't enough, he began to hit her with his fist
They both beat her for reasons they had put on that list
Crying and red welts covering her body so small
Her face bruised and bleeding, where he beat her into the wall
He jerked her up and tied her and tied her hands behind her back
Then he tied her feet together, really tight leaving no slack
He filled the tub with water as she lay bleeding on the floor
He then took her and put her in the water holding her head under like before
Her whole life was filled with pain and strife, so many fears
She thought everyone lived this way, all those years
People can't understand why she is so sad alot these days
Planted deep inside so much pain from the past, not a faze
She gets so sad her to hear about another child murdered or abused
Thrown away as everyday trash, broken, abandoned and bruised
My heart weeps for all the children who have been through this
The life I described used to be mine, all children don't live in bliss
We have to take action and protect these children now
Some won't live to share their story, but I will speak up, this I vow! ! !
By Dogs4donna
© 2009 Dogs4donna (All rights reserved)
poem by Donna Nimmo
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To Adapt
To say and explain we imagine why the one of us shall say,
Your being is held in a fist after fist after fist until we end the day.
This is totally abrupt, a policy to please, a lonely river of time;
May majesty spell my soul without a flower, so the bell does chime.
When this bangs fifty times I submit to it, like a turtle to the human race,
Open are all hours to the future, the rupture, the conservation of grace.
Will fighting cease, will understanding believe in men who give birth?
The right of a man fights for laws to understand, to take on worth.
Worthy men are inside the book so great, so extraordinary and apt,
Much of the celebration exits to give a laughter, so much to adapt.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Red Book
The way of what is to come are the dreams of a man made mad by some
Things rambling's converge on one point that's spread across time
And through space in the face of a race that never tires the mind
Your business of demons surrounding the fortress, pitching their
forks
Ringing in chorus
As one great big howling moon armored to the teeth
Talking to no one where no words can speak
The truth buried beneath the conscious mask worn by the shadow willing to bask
In vast flasks concentrated with sunlight
But
Graciously bows out
Then gouges its eyes out
To watch itself sleep tight in the dark wake of the night
During firefights between shattered thoughts scattered thoughtlessly with banality
Midway beyond the mayhem of a blood-soaked mentality
Where screaming monsters are routinely ignored by the maniacs of reality
And each of its variations
Softly serenading
All of the bats in the belfry until they fly out and start separating
The shredded pieces and burned edges
Torn from the pages of the red book
Into a collection of jumbled puzzles that jigsaws happy endings
Then strings them up on a dead hook
While coaxing reapers down off the ledges
With crooked pledges of shining driving wedges
And playing golf in a strait jacket, swinging wildly
Aiming directly for the hedges,
Whispering 'four' on an empty course and watching the ball bouncing off the walls
Over the hill under midnight falls
At the end of the book, the sessions, and phone calls
They're not as crazy as anyone alleges
poem by P.R. Prosper
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Abbherence!
A man was on the floor
Selling coco at the shore.
Making meal & money, he's happy.
Looking at d stars, he laid airy.
But the tale had a twist
Wid no legs, he held tight his fist
And the hatred tale started.
His fingers ran through pages
He knew history since sages
Giving lectures he spent the day
Moon or sun, knowing not from where came d ray
There lied in tale a twist
With no eyes, he held tight his fist
And the hatred tale started.
In a garden blossomed a flower
Reason being aroma, all wanted it ever
Few hours hence, it was plucked
Days later, dry it looked
That is where the tale took a twist
This' one more in that list
And the hatred tale started.
The hatred tale that had a twist
When few couldn't hold tight their fist
That hatred tale still in place
When some flawed life as they couldn't race
When a man wins if he thinks he can
& flower that spreads cheer before it dries
WHY SHOULD A LOSER END LOSER? ?
poem by BhanuPrakash Singh
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Rat Reading
Rat's are
My home
Reading for book's
At night time...!
Each book's
On the book stand
Rat reading
Not very well....! ?
Rat simply
Read some of
Pages only;
Book's are broken
Rat read mean's
Rat bite's
Book's are crying
I am also...
Rat reading
O...sorry
Rat bite's...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Shatter
The still silence falls
A curtain, nay, a wall
To dampen all the noise
Of the gathered girls and boys
Not a thing is heard
Not a whisper, not a word
But a solemn symphony
Of silent harmony
Like a soundless breeze
Gliding in with ease
Falls the silent wall
Holding all in thrall…
Then laughter!
With a clatter!
Like a clang
Out it rang
From their lips
Laughter rips
Hoots and hollers
Wild callers
Façade falls
Broken wall
With the laughter
Silence shatters.
poem by Sophia White
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Nite Flights
Theres no hold
The moving has come through
The danger passing you
Turns its face into the heat and runs the tunnels
Its so cold
The dog dug up fine dogs
The stiches torn and broke
The wrong lick fist you choke has hit the blood light
Glass traps opened and close on nite flights
Broken necks, feather plates pressed and warped
Be my love, we will be gods on nite flights
With only one promise, only one way to fall
Glass traps opened and close on nite flights
Broken necks feather ways press the walls
Be my love, we will be gods on nite flights
With only one promise, only one way to call
On nite flights
On nite flights
Only one way to fall
On nite flights
On nite flights
On nite flights
Only one way to fall
Ah ah ah ah ah
Ah ah ah ah ah
Ah ah ah ah ah
Ah ah ah ah ah
Ah ah ah ah ah
Ah ah ah ah ah
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Clock On The Wall
The clock ticks on the wall
The same walls
That saw my family
Grow from childhood
To adulthood
The tick tock of time
Each stroke captures
A time a place
Were we visit back
In memories of old
A birth a death
A wedding of bliss
Each memory reflected
In the glass of a
Clock that sits upon the wall
As time ticks by
We look at our lives
What we have done
Where we have gone
Have we wasted any?
Precious time that
Makes our lives whole
So savor the moment
And make each moment count
poem by Kaila George
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