I Am.... (Your Lover)
i am the broken branch,
blown by the wind.
the key left in the door,
of the empty house.
i am the creek spilled over,
the frog on the bank.
the pot stained by time,
half filled with water.
the young woman giving birth,
and the nurse by her side.
the box of canned goods,
left on the porch.
i am the body naked,
sleeping on the silent bed.
the son killed in the war,
the picture on the wall.
i am the softness of the moth,
long left the body.
i am the kiss of lovers,
at the risk of loss.
i am the body of words,
sent without hope or destination.
i am the hand you thought wind,
blowing the hair from your face.
i am try inspite of,
i am hunger expressed.
the tongue round your heart,
the tear that comes unannounced!
i am the face of the lonely,
and the feet of the pilgrim.
i am your lover,
clothed in rain and mud!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Related quotes
I Was Not Born To Follow # 2
i am the nail half-bent,
....tossed to the side,
......rusted by the rain.
the body of the young man shot
...left in the streets,
.....the bullet, and the silence.
the trembling hand that lights the pipe,
....and the anger deep inside.
......the young woman giving birth,
the light that screams for darkness.
...the door latch broken
.....on the vacant house,
and the roar of the empty.
...the waves that break the barricade,
.....leaving dead fish on the sand.
the telegram sent,
...the casket, the flag,
.....the mother's tears unspoken.
the ache, the crucifix, the reaching hand,
......the family left 'neath the bridge;
........the orphaned child, the jobless bum,
i was not born to follow!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Such A Rainy Day
such a rainy day
she comes to my door
knocking for help
for some comfort in the coldness of a rainy day
some winds too strong
dry leaves blown to the other side
some trees giving to a crack to a fall
she comes on such a rainy day
she is wet and so pitiful to look at
her clothes pasting to her frail body of
a woman deserted
her hair uncombed and blown and scattered
she stands by my door
my brother left her just an hour ago
she is wet, her hair, her body some rain still drips
how can i forget her?
my brother did not love her and he left her
she is crying and her tears drip on her cheeks on her body
how can i be so cruel for not telling her
i love her so,
but she leaves, she is crying and the rain starts pouring again
she is only looking for my brother who left her
how can i help her?
she never utters my name
in her heart, i do not exist.
she loves him, he left her,
i love her, she leaves me
the rain keeps on pouring and fate plays so well like a crazy child
on us
on a rain that comes unplanned, unasked, and goes away unnoticed.
i stand on this door.
i have to close it,
fate does it always better.
i am that crazy child playing in the rain, in my brain
i am wet, my thoughts dripping like rain,
like droplets and my tears,
i am glad, my tears are invisible.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Kiss Me, Death!
kiss me, death...
i have followed the trail
of your perfume for too long.
my body aches from sleeping on rocks,
and my feet no longer have a vision!
the wind whips between these ancient trees,
that smile with the silent ache of longing.
and this small fire i've built is just that,
i leave no trace or thought.
and the stars that crumble to dust
in my hands already know,
only the crows wait for dawn.
i am the lover whose face you've forgotten,
the body of your desire!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Catherine
on top of me is a woman's body
after
a moan is another woman's body
a door opens
for a woman's dressed body
a window closes
for a woman's naked body
Catherine
wolverine in a woman's body
pure cotton
dangling softness in a man's naked mind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Face To Face
Run your fingers through my hair and softly kiss my lips
Hold me close in your embrace and love me face to face
Face to face heart to heart body to body
Tingling tangle feelings lovers face to face
Ill caress your body and hold you close to me
Ill slide my hands around your waist and love you face to face
Face to face heart to heart body to body
Lips on lips arm and arm body to body
Tingling tangle feelings lovers face to face
Softly say you love me as you make love to me
No one else can take your place we happen face to face
song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Death Papers.... (Part Two)
i, the body
of earth and wind,
cry for the mountains,
the valleys, and rivers.
i am man,
the warrior naked,
muscled dark and lean.
with eyes borrowed from the hawk,
and hands that turn the ground.
i bear the feet of time determined,
the marks of the whip scar my back.
with hardened phallus,
and panting breath,
i follow the trail of the wolves.
i am woman,
the warrior naked,
long hair swept by the wind.
with eyes borrowed from the owl,
and hands skilled in healing.
i bear the feet of time determined,
the scar of the chains on my wrists.
breasts born with fire,
garden wet with hungry birth,
i am the trail the wolves follow!
and now,
i, the body
lay down my cross,
seed in the furrow,
sunlight waiting
for darkness's goodbye kiss.
for i, the body,
am earth and wind....
mountains, valleys,
and rivers cry for me!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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If You Really Want To
You say youre all alone,
And after all the changes youve been through today
You can use a little tenderness, right now
Ok, Ive been alone,
And I can understand the way you feel tonight
Maybe together we can charge it all right now
I can tell by the look in your tear-filled eyes
You need somebody you can hold onto
If you really want to, Id love to hold you
If you really want to, then Id love to be the body that you hold onto
You say, he broke your heart,
He left you crying, but he did not set you free
And now you feel like you can never love again
Ok, so let me know,
Its up to you how long you let his memory stay
And do you really wanna carry on this way
I can tell by the look in your tear-filled eyes
You need somebody you can hold onto
If you really want to, Id love to hold you
If you really want to, then Id love to be the body that you hold onto
If you really want to, if you really want to,
Then I really cant deny you
So many things you need to know, so many left to say
But you mean more than words I know,
I can help you chase the pain away
I can tell by the look in your tear-filled eyes
You need somebody you can hold onto
If you really want to, if you really want to
If you really want to, then Id love to be the body that you hold onto
If you really want to, if you really want to,
Then I really cant deny you
If you really want to, if you really want to
If you really want to... (to fade)
(chorus repeats out)
song performed by by Meat Loaf
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wind.
Who has seen the wind?
Of course, neither you nor I!
It's weak or strong
No body sees its appearance
Who has seen the wind?
Of course, neither I nor you!
Only feel trees are shaking,
I know the wind is passing through.
There are some winds called typhoon.
The residents are afraid when it's coming.
People most fear about the tornados mostly.
Everything’s being terribly pulled up to the sky.
It brings three days raining if a typhoon passed.
Therefore I don’t think they are too hateful.
There will be some affection when wind is coming.
It may bring us happiness or sadness.
Do you love the wind?
I love spring wind kisses on my face;
it is so soft like a lady’s touch.
I love autumn wind blows on fruit trees;
it brings the fruit’s smell to my nose.
Do you hate the wind?
My heart might be broken if it’s too strong.
I pray God lets lovely wind blowing.
I wish bad wind never causes harmful again.
Pray for people get help from the wind;
No body hates wind for the whole year;
I hope get more love from the wind.
Hope every body loves them as the friends.
poem by Albert Wong
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To Face The Storm
i am he who plowed and who swept,
that held your tears in trembling hands.
that carved your voice into the willow,
that whispered to stars in your name.
i am she whose back twas arched,
who brought you from the land unknown.
who suckled your hunger and filled you with awe,
who held your hand on walks of amazement.
and i am the tint and the hue of change,
the anvil and the forge....
that brought you from the shores of webbed feet,
to the ache inside the howl of the moon.
i am the lover that took your longing,
and entered your secret garden...
i am the wind that blew the curtains,
the sweat that glistened on your body.
now i am the urn, the casket, and the flowers,
words spoken in silent mourning...
but whose soul lies in perfect rest,
and whose is left to face the storm?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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We Walk As One!
for all those who are hurting...
souls troubled, in turmoil.
for those in need,
those left alone...
for all those with nowhere to turn.
for all those hungry, body or spirit,
for those who are beaten,
bruised, and scarred...
for those on the street,
and those addicted....
for the prisoner, the victim,
the soldier far from home.
for the lover left empty,
for the dreamer who's lost hope,
for every tear shed in the darkness...
i feel you, i am by your side,
i am the wind whispering to you,
i am the night shadows that embrace.
i am the prayer prayed for you, by you,
and the answer coming in time...
i live inside you,
in the breath you breathe...
you are me, and i am you,
and this path we walk...
we walk as one!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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A Stranded Girl on a Friday Night
She was weeping when we met
Outside a party store
Where the lonely purchase their wine;
Her boyfriend had left her behind
All sad and lost after a fight,
Most likely, about inconsequential things.
I picked her up, half out of human kindness,
Half to be beside a female body
Despite how red and unhappy her face.
She was a beautiful girl in a simple way,
She wore a plain flowery dress
With some charming appeal I can’t explain.
She tried to express in broken sentences
Why she and her boyfriend were upset;
I mostly heard tears and my boyfriend this,
My boyfriend that,
I tried to act like it was as completely earth shattering
As she thought it was.
She gave me directions to where she lived,
I drove diligently toward that destination
Without any attempts to prolong the drive
While I planned out my own strategy of a pass.
When I finally arrived at her place,
Her face was still red but the tears had dried.
She said, “Thanks, mister, you’re a nice guy.”
She got a little closer to me and touched my hand.
I thought she might kiss me, I thought I might kiss her,
But she scooted on out and made for her house.
I wasn’t expecting any action that night,
I can’t claim disappointment.
But I wish I knew if I should pray
For her and her boyfriend to work things out.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Trembles Your Thoughts
i am the brown skinned lover,
sweat wrapped in shadow.
the window left open,
the latch broken by desire.
i am the turpentine taste
of the dangerous and forbidden.
i am the graveclothes left
by the door to your room.
i am the rabid dog,
howling against the wind.
i am the moment before
the storm tears down the house.
i am hunger sharpened
by the loss and the fury.
i am legs uncrossed,
quivering and damp!
i am love dares the bullet,
and taunts the noose.
i am the shackles broken,
the sinews of deep want!
i am the heart, the tongue,
the fingers, and the plow...
waiting for the moon to light
the field too long untouched!
i am the beard of eros,
and the pipe of beauty.
i hum the song
that trembles your thoughts!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Lover, Come!
lover, come!
i cannot bear another moment.
i walk aimless through fields,
down wooded paths
to where the water sings
against the rocks!
i have forgotten you,
forgotten your name,
forgotten your face!
all that i have left are
the faint memories
of smells and tastes
and hunger
and timeless indentions
left by touch and feel
and need
lover, come!
lover, come!
through storms and battles,
years of hardship and loss...
through chains and bars and tears
never cried, words never formed...
i have travelled, i have endured,
alone, and cold, ... beaten, and proud,
tired, and sleepless...
till now i am old.
lover, come!
my body yearns and burns,
my hands tremble-
yet are strong!
i want to feel you again,
i want to know you again.
to conquer and surrender,
never knowing which is which,
not caring!
lover, come!
in the still of night,
in the heat of day,
come take my hand!
we'll walk off together
without a glance, without regrets,
daring to live these precious moments
lover, come!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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On Being Here Back To You
time stole you away from me
a long, long time ago
when i confessed
my love to you
when i have defined what love is
and its possibilities
its consequences
the face i want to caress
the body i want to hold
the tongue i want to taste
the lips i want to kiss
you left, i bleed
i have defined pain
and enumerated the hurt
long in my list
my sighs reverberated
in the halls of my
loneliness
now i am back
to you
looking at you
again after a long, long time
when you left me
what do i see?
what do i feel?
i feel nothing now
i have not seen you
i will move on to the next
door of my life
i will open it
to find myself and perhaps
someone else, who knows?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Simplest Of Things...
there is a rare beauty
in the simplest of things...
the door knob tarnished,
the book with the worn cover.
the hallelujah shout of the snail,
rain water standing in an old tire.
the lampshade covered with dust,
the iron sitting unattended.
the child's toy left on the floor,
the hand that always somehow fits.
the old woman's heavy breathing,
the coffee cup stained half empty.
the cry of young lovers from a distant window.
the dog's low growl at something unseen.
the tattered remnants of the robin's nest,
the broken eggshell clinging to grass.
the old hymn sung by the man working his garden...
the swing of the axe, the stacking of wood.
the spider clinging to the outhouse wall,
potatoes laid out in the cellar for winter.
the grave solitary three days after the funeral.
the cat cradled on the step while it rains.
the laughter of a love long in journey.
the cup of coffee shared with the transient stranger.
the prayer of the child, and the room gone dark....
words spoken from the heart with hands and feet.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Scent Of The Lover....
i am still water, moonlit and waiting.
i am the crucifix made of fingers,
the letter written in blood.
the fool tripping over windmills,
the beacon from a distant shore.
dust in the corner, dew on the grass,
the eyes of the racoon,
the bat hanging upside down.
the whisper of moss,
the depths of the cave.
the pine tree fallen across the path.
i am the kiss long silent,
the iron skillet, the tin cup.
i am the body of the wind,
without beginning or end.
i am the child alone,
and the woman abused.
the angry man, and the broken glass.
i am the farmhouse deserted,
the voices of ghosts.
i am the spirits of slaves,
who call in the night.
i am the cock and the dawn,
the howl of the dog.
the pilgrim beaten and robbed,
and left for dead.
i am the cry of childbirth,
and the shout of death....
i am the scent of the lover,
that stains your soul!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Death Papers... (Part Four)
i name the bullet, the noose,
the needle, and the disease.
the failing heart,
the body bent and broken,
the moment that breath is taken...
for you have not killed me!
i name the war, the planes,
the bombs, and the guns.
the lying flags,
and oil tainted chants.
the strike, the stab,
the tearing of flesh...
for you have not killed me!
i name the empty plate,
the orphaned bed
by the endless road.
the goon squads of indifference.
the prison cell, the alleys burning...
for you have not killed me!
i name the love that ends,
the heart that's broken.
the tidal wave of loss,
and darkness without feeling.
the empty hand and the empty heart...
for you have not killed me!
i watch the body burnt
on despair's self engraved altar...
wondering...
'could that be me? '
and with laughing wings
reach for the sky...
that has no end, or name!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Bleed No More
Bleed no more, bleed no more, my love-
Just go in peace towards your destination,
For in this life my eyes have seen enough,
Enough of broken promises and frustrations.
Just go on without a word or thought
About what we've done when we were young,
About that pure love that we once sought-
Just go on-what has been done is done.
I will not say I loved you any less-
Whatever was one time had disappeared,
Dissolved in memories and years of loneliness,
Transforming flights of passion into tears.
And what is left? What's really left of us,
Of those moments when we loved each other? -
I should've known that your heart of glass
Was never tied to any single lover.
So go on, go on your merry way
Towards another fleeting destination-
Whatever was is gone-it's time to say
Goodbye to empty words and affectations.
poem by Alexander Shaumyan
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Image
The girl in the mirror stared back at me.
Unflinching.
Eyes blood shot.
Cheeks stained with tears and sweat.
Her hands dangled weakly, swollen
and splattered with blood.
Matted hair sprung from her head and the black circles
made her eyes seem all the more sunken. Desperate.
She was small. Shriveled.
All hope sucked from her soul and left a scar
across her gray face like a tree branch
reaching for the sun but anchored by the abandoned
body of a young girl whose heart
had long ago stopped beating.
the fallen soldier of a country whose world
had fought against it. A country of Purity.
And this girl raised a cut and bruised arm
and lifted the mask from her face. Hesitantly.
The scars faded.
They left tiny white lines on my arms and face.
And my eyes cleared;
Hope glistening from them
and making my skin glow.
My hair curled softly.
My hands healed and were cleansed.
A slight pink stain rested on my fingers
My flesh was watered back to life.
And I smiled.
A weak, crooked sort of smile.
My teeth were not in their places
and a few were chipped,
but I loved the sight of that broken grin.
poem by Zoe Guillory
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Perhaps The Cat!
he rose from the coffin,
shook himself, and walked,
out the door, out of sight.
the body he left behind,
nothing but an empty shell!
the mourners wept for the body.
who sings the song of
the spirit set free?
who sees with his eyes?
who knows his heart?
perhaps the blind man
at the piano...
perhaps the cat that followed
his steps, in search of food!
perhaps the wind that
closed the door behind...
perhaps the ones who really loved,
or the child waving at the window!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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