Forty Dollar Bathtub
a forty dollar galvanized bathtub!
carrying buckets of water up the hill
to heat on the old cook stove...
i watched you bathing in the kitchen,
in the old house down on Henry River.
fried Spam and pork 'n beans,
moonlit trips to the outhouse....
stray dogs on the porch.
endless truckloads of wood scraps;
we made love through winter nights,
so cold in the room you could see your breath!
you licked the frost from my moustache,
and the world went on without us....
a forty dollar bathtub, buckets of water,
nothing needed, nothing more!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
I Am (You)
i am...
the shadow inside your shadow,
your breath, and your smell.
the memories of your childhood,
and the day your father died.
the cats that came one by one,
the forty dollar runaway.
the forbidden love, and the dare,
the loss, the grave never tended.
i am childbirth, and the baby,
nursing at your breast.
i am the snake in the garden,
the spider in the outhouse.
the kerosene heater, and the iron skillet.
i am the galvanized bathtub,
the water bucketed up the hill.
i am the want of spring,
the passion of summer,
the turning of autumn,
the final stillness of winter.
i am the voice inside your voice,
the hurt, and the fatal wound.
i am the tear not cried,
and the wind that cries your name!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Albums Of Loving
he walked ten miles
through the winter night,
then laid in a ditch
for over an hour....
waiting on her husband
to leave.....
Farina, Hesse, and
talking naked... vodka,
and enough passion
to almost save the world.....
2
he came home from work,
dog-tired, took off his
boots at the door....
he could hear the sound of music....
he walked into the great room...
she sat naked at the baby grand,
playing Tchaikovsky....
she smiled: 'i thought you'd like...'
3
it snowed a lot that winter.
he could still see her
in his mind's eye...
carrying buckets of water
through the snow...
up the hill....
heating water on that old woodstove,
baths in the galvanized bathtub.....
then as the fire went down...
they made love all night;
shadows in the moonlight,
great clouds of hungry breath....
no man ever had less, or more!
nothing else need be said....
love is the one moment in a thousand
when we really dare to live!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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History (Became A Child)
the grandbaby in his arms
brings back the old house.
buckets of water carried
up the hill...
cutting wood to feed the stove.
an old mattress on the floor,
a coffee pot well stained.
spiders on the outhouse wall,
the garden, and the hoe.
the cooking pot and the rocking chair,
handmade quilts, green beans snapped.
simple beginnings that wrote history,
and history became a child!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Do It All Again!
empty water buckets
on a porch long deserted,
the old house falling down
like a tree sheds its leaves.
the chimney stands cold,
almost roaring with silence...
and there's still a marker
in the back yard where we buried the dog.
love yellowed sheets,
and maggots in the flour.
spiders march on the outhouse walls.
empty mason jars that remember green beans,
a hoe, and a shovel with a broken handle.
ghosts walk cobwebbed halls,
the old floor sags.
and the sounds of two young lovers
haunt the ticking of an unseen clock.
damn! to go back...
and do it all again!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cook Of The House
Ground rice, sugar, vinegar, seco salt, macaroni too,
Cook of the house,
Im the cook of the house.
No matter where I serve my guests,
They seem to like the kitchen best cause Im the cook of the house,
Cook of the house.
The salads in the bowl,
The rice is on the stove.
Green beans in the colander and where the res is heaven only knows.
Cinnamon, garlic, salt, pepper, corn-bread, curry powder, coffee too,
Cook of the house,
Im the cook of the house.
No, matter where I serve my guests,
They seem to like the kitchen best.
cause Im the cook of the house,
Cook of the house.
Where the rest is heaven only knows.
Matter where I serve my guests,
They seem to like the kitchen best cause Im the cook of the house.
Cook of the house,
Cook of the house,
Im the cook of the house.
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stirred By The Wind!
that five and dime perfume,
somewhere between...
a flower garden after the rain,
and the front seat of an old car
on a moonlit night!
making love in the dirt,
between rows of green beans,
hot July sun,
bodies glistening with sweat.
slow dancing in a laundromat,
carrying buckets of water for a bath.
crawling out your bedroom window,
just before dawn!
long greying hair glistening
in a sun shadowed room,
the silence, and the twinkle,
the ashes stirred by the wind!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Winter
The sun with all its beauty and glory has gone.
Where has it gone? Nowhere.
But again I ask: Why do I not see it?
It has given way to Winter.
But why?
Is it because that everything in nature comes and goes
or is it because that it had no choice but to go and give way
to a sombre and disheartening state of affairs just for the sake of it? Hmm.....
I have often wondered.
Gloomy days and frosty nights are its constituent.
Water trickling down from overhead and onto the ground,
moistening the earth after the earth baking I found
Oh! a water dropp fell down the back of my neck
- how cold yet how soothing.
All cuddled up in a big fur coat seeking to find some shelter
I was where from a front yard porch could look at the water
washing away all the ash of yesterday.
How pleasant it is to see such a sight
as a river of water making its way
down the gutter of man made carrying with it
all the dirt and scum that was and will be there another day.
Having found my shelter and home I was dripping and shaking from a winter day looking out there and thinking I dare not be in it again.
It can be good and it can be bad, knowing this now after years gone by
when I was a child in dismay wondering why I felt so sad. A child in dismay. A child in dismay.......
Ah! another cold dropp fell down the back of my neck,
through a hole in the porch roof which awakened me from days gone by.
Oh how cruel winter is in a way stirring me to think of memories from pleasanter days.
The days are short, the nights are long and both are cold.
I must adapt myself as others do to escape the danger
and cost of paying the bill when all is needed for winter.
How I wish I was in summer dreaming about winter,
but then why should I when both are hard times.
poem by George Krokos
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Spam
Spam in the place where I live (ham and pork)
Think about nutrition, wonder whats inside it now (oh boy)
Spam in my luchbox at work (its the best)
Really makes a darn good sandwhich any way you slice it at all
If youre running low, go to the store
Carry some money to help you buy more
The tab is there to open the can
The can is there to hold in the spam
Oh, spam on the table at home (ham and pork)
Think about selection, are there different flavors now (lets eat)
Spam in my office at work (its the best)
Think about the stuff its made from, wonder if its mystery of meat
If you need a spoon, keep one around
Carry a thermose to help wash it down
Now, if theres some left, dont just throw it out
Use it for spackle or bathroom grout, now
Spam in my pantry at home (have some more)
Think of expiration, better read the lable (oh boy)
Spam breakfast, dinner, or lunch (its the best)
Think about how its been precooked, wonder if Ill just eat it cold
Now, once you start in, you cant put it down
Dont leave it sitting or itll turn brown
The key is going to open the tin
The tin is there to keep the spam in
Oh, spam (spam)
Ham and pork
Think about nutrition, wonder whats inside it now (oh boy)
Spam (spam)
Its the best
Really makes a darn good sandwhich any way you slice it
Spam in the place where I live (have some more)
Think about addiction, wonder if Im a junkie now (lets eat)
Spam in the place where I work (youre obsessed)
Think about the way its processed, wonder if its some kind of meat
Spam in the back of my car (ham and pork)
Spam any place that you are (ham and pork)
The tab is there to open the can (spam any place that you are) (ham and pork)
The can is there to hold in the spam (spam any place that you are) (ham and pork)
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If Tomorrow Never Came
when you lie in your lover's arms,
do you remember
those frozen nights,
when the fire had died....
moonlight hanging like ice
in the window bare...
the wet pool of love steaming,
clouds of breath hanging
in the air with unspoken desire....
the baying of the old hound....
and two sets of footprints in the snow
leading down to the water.....
the buckets on the porch,
an axe, and the old truck....
not giving a damn
if tomorrow never came!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I bought it for a dollar
One of the Dollar tree stores stands at the Lincoln avenue in Anaheim
I peeped in and I found an old dollar coin accidentally stuck in a corner of my shy wallet.
I couldn't believe and it's a dollar
The book 'Ronnie'; Ronnie.Wood of Rolling Stones
Who's autobiographical novel.
He drifted on a river from a family of water gypsies.
A fine musician and a radical painter too.
Going through the few pages of his book
I found his creativity.
He quoted an African proverb from a Charles.Dicken's novel
'The Sun does not forget a Village just because it's small.'
I too feel like a gypsy and I watched my soul's compass.
Where I am now far from my motherland?
I request my friends to bury my body here and send the soul to my tiny tear dropp Island one day.
[I can't say what the future holds for me, But I can tell you I am not finished yet.] -Ronnie.Wood-
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Working Man's Wage
(wynn varble/leslie satcher)
I've seen mornings when a thousand bales of hay
Looked like a mountain to a boy my age
And i've seen my daddy in that hot southern sun
Move those mountains one by one
And i've seen that same man come home from the mill
Pull forty hours for a hundred-dollar bill
I've watched him struggle and i've watched him age
Raising a family on a working man's wage
I grew up on a working man's wage
Blood, sweat and tears on every dollar he made
For the little he earned there was so much he gave
And i hope i am worthy of a working man's wage
I pick this guitar six nights a week
Daddy can't believe they're paying me
It would be so easy to let it go to my head
But there's just one thing that i can't forget
I grew up on a working man's wage
Blood, sweat and tears on every dollar he made
For the little he earned there was so much he gave
And i hope i am worthy, i hope i am worthy
Of a working man's wage
I've seen mornings when a thousand bales of hay
Looked like a mountain to a boy my age
song performed by by Trace Adkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Working Man's Wage
(wynn varble/leslie satcher)
I've seen mornings when a thousand bales of hay
Looked like a mountain to a boy my age
And i've seen my daddy in that hot southern sun
Move those mountains one by one
And i've seen that same man come home from the mill
Pull forty hours for a hundred-dollar bill
I've watched him struggle and i've watched him age
Raising a family on a working man's wage
I grew up on a working man's wage
Blood, sweat and tears on every dollar he made
For the little he earned there was so much he gave
And i hope i am worthy of a working man's wage
I pick this guitar six nights a week
Daddy can't believe they're paying me
It would be so easy to let it go to my head
But there's just one thing that i can't forget
I grew up on a working man's wage
Blood, sweat and tears on every dollar he made
For the little he earned there was so much he gave
And i hope i am worthy, i hope i am worthy
Of a working man's wage
I've seen mornings when a thousand bales of hay
Looked like a mountain to a boy my age
song performed by by Trace Adkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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River
River
Flow is my life
frozen I die
stop only if dry
I have two banks
but no dollar or francs
More important than dollar
for you and me is water.
poem by S.D. Tiwari
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Alms
My heart is what it was before,
A house where people come and go;
But it is winter with your love,
The sashes are beset with snow.
I light the lamp and lay the cloth,
I blow the coals to blaze again;
But it is winter with your love,
The frost is thick upon the pane..
I know a winter when it comes:
The leaves are listless on the boughs;
I watched your love a little while,
And brought my plants into the house.
I water them and turn them south,
I snap the dead brown from the stem;
But it is winter with your love,
I only tend and water them.
There was a time I stood and watched
The small, ill-natured sparrows' fray;
I loved the beggar that I fed,
I cared for what he had to say,
I stood and watched him out of sight:
Today I reach around the door
And set a bowl upon the step;
My heart is what it was before,
But it is winter with your love;
I scatter crumbs upon the sill,
And close the window, —and the birds
May take or leave them, as they will.
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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Boomtown
(Toby Keith)
The people came here from parts unknown
Sleepin' in their cars 'cause they didn't have homes
Thought this place was the promised land
If you could roughneck, we could use a good man
Come on boy let me show you around
You could make a lot of money here
Livin' in a boomtown
Well some build bars and big hotels
Downshift drive and the people live well
High on the hog and wild on the range
Pocket full of cash instead of chump change
This place kicks when the sun goes down
Ain't life great when you're livin' in a boomtown
See oil was the blood that flowed through the soul
To keep a man workin' when it's forty below
Relent to the devil in the cold cold ground
Trying to make a dollar here livin' in a boomtown
Six short years the oil fields went
Rigs came down and the money got spent
And the wisemen saved for a rainy day
The fools packed up and moved away
The hotels closed and the bars shut down
And it got real quite livin' in a boomtown
See oil was the blood that flowed through the soul
To keep a man workin' when it's forty below
Relent to the devil in the cold cold ground
Trying to make a dollar here livin' in a boomtown
Now the cafe's filled with people tellin' lies
Trying to figure out how the town went dry
You can buy a house a dime on the dollar
Need a good home just give me a holler
I can move you in with no money down
Still tryin' to make a dollar here livin' in a boomtown
Livin' in a boomtown
Livin' in a boomtown
song performed by by Toby Keith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All the Riches of Royalty
The king sat in his silver bathtub one morning
And he realized, as he soaked in the soft bubbles
That you can not rule your kingdom from a silver bathtub
So he did what any other king in a silver bathtub would do-
He got out.
Looking down, he realized that he was standing on his silver rug
And as he dried his arms, he considered that perhaps
You cannot rule a kingdom from a silver bathroom rug
So he slowly stepped off of the rug, and watched the patterns of his feet
Disappear into the silver carpet.
The king walked over to his window and looked over his kingdom.
It lay below him, sparkling in all it's silver beauty
And as he watched, it seemed to come alive with people
Shining like silver in the warm sun
A tear rolled down his quietly down his cheek
And he pondered that
Maybe, just maybe
Being a king is not all that they say it is
poem by Fallen Too Far
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My Buckets Got A Hole In It
Recorded by hank williams, sr.
Words and music by clarence williams
Capo: 2nd fret/key: e/play: d
First chorus
Intro: [d] ...[a7] ...[d] ... [d7]
Yea! my buckets got a [g] hole in it
Yea! my buckets got a [d] hole in it
Yea! my buckets got a [a7] hole in it
I cant buy no [d] beer.
Well Im standin on a [g] corner - with a bucket in my [d] hand
Im waitin for a [a7] woman - that aint got no [d] man.
2nd chorus
cause my buckets got a [g] hole in it
Yea! my buckets got a [d] hole in it
Yea! my buckets got a [a7] hole in it
I cant buy no [d] beer.
Well, I went upon the [g] mountain - I looked down in the [d] sea
I seen the crabs and the [a7] fishes - doin the be-bop-[d] bee.
2nd chorus
Well, there aint no [g] use - of me workin so [d] hard
When I got a [a7] woman - in the boss mans [d] yard.
2nd chorus
Extra verse.
Well, me and my baby - we just bought a ford
And now we sit together - on the running board.
1st chorus
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Learning to Swim
At forty-eight, to be given water,
which is most of the world, given life
in water, which is most of me, given ease,
which is most of what I lack, here, where walls
don’t part to my hands, is to be born
as of three weeks ago. Taking nothing
from you, mother, or you, sky, or you,
mountain, that you wouldn’t take
if offered by the sea, any sea, or river,
any river, or the pool, beside which
a woman sits who would save me
if I needed saving, in a red suit, as if flame
is the color of emergency, as I do,
need saving, from solid things,
most of all, their dissolve.
America, America...
i remember...
$1.55 an hour, furniture row,
55 hours a week.
getting up hay, milking cows,
and them cotton mills
we worked in...
family member to family member,
generations of workers.
no running water,
carrying buckets up the hill,
spiders on the outhouse wall.
the hoe, the shovel, and the plow.
reading by candle light,
and writing socialist manifestos
on a 1913 underwood typewriter!
making love in the front seat
of a 1966 Rambler Classic.
raising babies, raising hell,
renegade thoughts...
climbing mountains, picking music,
living, living, just living
and working!
America, America...
where did you go?
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bathtub Gin
Brett is in the bathtub
Making soup for the ambassadors
And I am in the hallway
Singing to the troubadours
The kings are all lined up
Outside the gate
And the autumn bells are ringing
But theyll just have to wait
Where is the joker?
Have you seen him around
With his three coned cap
That he wears like a clown?
Have you seen his stripped stockings
And heard his sad tale
About the kids under the carpet
And the purple humpbacked whales
Here come the ambassadors
They show up one by one
Brett is tasting all the soup
To see if it is done
Wendys on the windowsill
Waiting to be let in
And were all in the bathtub now
Making bathtub gin
The kings storm the hallway
Theyve climbed up through the gate
They didnt mean to be impolite
But they just couldnt wait
Here comes the joker
With his silly grin
He carries a martini
Made of bathtub gin
Here comes the joker
We all must laugh
Cause were all in this together
And we love to take a bath.
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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