In The Presence....
in the presence...
we cut and stack wood.
boil water for coffee,
wash dishes and fold clothes.
unwrap layers of new sunlight,
write letters and quietly think.
take long walks with dogs,
and speak to random strangers.
offer a hand, and say thank you,
listen for the sound of wings.
laugh at squirrels bickering,
watch as leaves begin to fall.
help old people load their cars,
share a smoke with a homeless man.
walk in awareness and deep peace,
ask what we can give...
in the presence!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Related quotes
I'd Rather Write
I'd rather write a poem, Lord,
Than mow the lawn today,
As mowing grass I'd soon be bored
And choose to walk away...
That wall needs painting, yes, I know,
Another month won't hurt,
I'd rather write and watch words flow
Than paint and hide the dirt...
I'd rather write a poem, Lord,
Than tidy up that room,
A tidy room's a poor reward
Compared with words that bloom...
That pile of clothes I'll get round to,
No pressure, they can wait,
I'd rather write my point of view,
As my views are first rate...
I'd rather write a poem, Lord,
Than wash the car outside,
It's not a Rolls, it's just a Ford,
With scratches dust can hide...
That stack of dishes, won't complain,
No rush to stand, wipe, stir,
I'd rather write my thoughts again
Before they melt and blur...
I'd rather write a poem, Lord,
Than shop for milk and bread,
Black coffee's okay, rest assured,
I'll give up toast instead...
I'll see my girlfriend, next week, soon,
Tomorrow or tonight...
I'd rather write this afternoon,
Please, Lord, if that's all right...
Denis Martindale, copyright, March 2012.
poem by Denis Martindale
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On The Trail Of Pessoa
i've walked this road for so long,
that i know what silence tastes like.
i hear only the simple sounds,
or the simplicity of sound...
i no longer confuse shadows,
and i sleep with dogs.
owning nothing,
there's nothing i would kill
to purchase!
there are no footprints
in front of me,
i follow no one.
intimate encounters with strangers,
for we are all strangers,
even to ourselves.
perhaps a word or two,
or not...
we share the cup, and the fire.
i have long conversations with trees,
read intimate stories
written in branches and leaves...
sing lovesongs to small pools of water,
pick up the broken shell of the hatchling
with awe....
my eyes bow in reverence
in the presence of women...
small children come to me,
tell me stories about dreams.
we build kingdoms of sticks,
discarded by birds....
stray cats sit on my lap,
i learn the language of paw.
i listen to the wind
humming in the spider's web.
and dead things rest
by the side of my chair...
waiting for dawn, just waiting!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Oakland Lake
The sunlight, like a mother’s touch,
lies gentle on the water’s face.
The last warm breath of summer past
Not ready yet to yield its place
And you and I walk, hand in hand,
Around the long and winding path
Past where fledging Mallards stand
And weeping willows sweep the earth.
From beyond the rushes comes
the soulful melody of a horn..
All else is still, no sound intrudes
upon the bassist and his song..
Above us Ninja squirrels fly
And bomb the path with acorn shells
If they should hit me do not laugh
Odds are that they’ll get you as well.
I’m glad we came to Oakland Lake,
To watch the waterfowl at play,
And have a quiet conversation
about a nearly perfect day.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Old Hands And Old Eyes....
old hands unbutton
the blouse of the day.
old hands make coffee,
open the dusty blinds.
old hands wash a few dishes,
make breakfast for the dogs...
old hands feed the stray cat,
make toast and wait.
old eyes caress the sunlight
as if an old friend.
old eyes see the work,
yet stop, to touch the morning.
old eyes kiss the trees,
the squirrels, and distant mountains.
old eyes ache with longing,
and amazement.
old hands and old eyes
begin the journey anew.
listening intently for the footfall,
for another candle, a hoe.
for the scent of nearness,
perhaps only remembered.
old hands and old eyes,
take the plow, the hammer,
and the nails....
old hands and old eyes,
waiting for love!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Why I Prefer To Live Alone
Give me a moment.
I want to find a specific way,
To tell you this.
Okay...
The reason why I prefer to live alone,
Is the company I sometimes can not avoid to keep.
Some people have a legitimate feeling,
That is sincerely felt as it is meant.
Some people need another presence,
To keep control of a conversation focused on themselves.
I have been in contact with these kinds of people,
On many occasion.
With a wish to exit as quick as possible.
And I was able to do that,
Because i was not in my own home.
Some people are just into themselves subconsiously.
With a unending 'Not-a-breath-to-take-zeal'
That creates an atmosphere squeezing the freshness,
Out of a peace that reduces a hospitality one ceases.
And...
This might be mistaken for boredom!
And i like to maintain a cordial presence one feels.
However,
Making no mistake of it at all...
I find sometimes your presence,
Leaves me with a headache.
And sometimes I can take it.
But on days like these that I want my peace.
You disturb that willingness I had to share it!
Give me a moment.
I want to find a specific way,
To tell you this.
I like to keep a flow of communication,
That is invitational.
You on the other hand,
Seek an audience to deliver devoted attention.
That kind of activity,
Wears me out.
Today...
I am feeling,
Less the member of an audience.
And more like...
I would love to see a performance,
Come to a close.
Like...
I want my door closed.
So I can be left alone to take a nap.
You understand that...
Don't you?
That's why I prefer to live alone.
And...
I am yearning my preference for that now!
But...
You are welcome to stay as long as you wish,
Under those conditions...
Knowing I have a great love,
Right now...
For solitude!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Freedom
I dance in the shadows, away from my life
Circling my dreams, painting the atmosphere
Layers of realities smile their deception,
Come undone at my ancient presence
Memories slough away the cobwebs of ignorance
To hear my thoughts entwined with the rapture of a lone breeze
Drifting drunken, caressing petal-soft dreams and desires
Listening to the wind's stories; secrets on palm leaves
Silent again for a moment as I forget my center
Leaving behind all my sunrises
Waiting by the silver well
For a dropp of the Moon
Words sound their secret waterfalls
Falling eternal; water-language…
And water learns to talk, to soothe, to listen…
As I slake my thirst from forgotten moments
I walk in the mystique of early dawn
Wrapped in magic, kissed by enigma
My solo footfalls wake my every spirit
I'm back; on layers and layers of human zone…
poem by Bindu Vijayan
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Let Me Share My Love With You
Come, and let me share my love with you;
And, let me give you slippers so that you do not walk along barefooted.
Come, and let me share my love with you;
And, let me cloth you with the muse of love so that you do not walk around naked.
Come, and let me share my love with you;
And, let me give you enough food so that you do not go hungry.
Come, and let me share my love with you;
And, let me give you enough water so that you do not go thirsty.
Come, and let me share my love with you;
And, let me take care of you under my shelter so that you do not become homeless.
Come, and let me share my love with you;
And, let me share my money with you so that you do not become penniless.
Come, and let me share my love with you;
And, let me take you around the world so that you do not become loneliness.
For this life needs the positive values of the muse of love and,
I have enough to share with you in my humble abode of peace and care.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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For My Peers Who Made It Good In The Big City
it was with a sad heart that i left all of you
from that big city that promised to give me all the glitter
of the neon lights
an island of fame where my body
and my face shall take
the center of the stage
where i may wallow in the deafening
sound of clapping hands
and a shower of flowers
as i sing and dance
and be the star of all your
dreams and wishes
i am twisted
you all write me a letter
i am hardheaded
you condemn me for i broke the promise
of what i could have been
i choose the little town by the sea
where the waves all speak of sorrow
where the trees grow unprecedented and without pruning
the ugliness of their branches speak of ill-will and
pronounced unfashionably
nature's untrammeled simplicity
the newspapers speak of your breakthroughs
all your names in bold letters and colored
your cars and mansions your latest creations
your glory and victories
my day begins in silence and it ends in silence
i sleep with nightmares i talk my walks at midnights
how can i be so stupid? all the leaves ask me, and all the trees
when i begin to speak, run barefoot away from me
the eggs of little birds on the nest on branches falling and broken and wasted
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Talk
Now I want to talk, and need to say, a few strong words to you,
But I will tell you right away, that there's one thing you won't do,
You won't start to walk away from me, before you've heard me out,
I'll try and keep my voice real calm, and not begin to shout.
You've driven me mad with all the ways, you disappear, which brings
Me to the boil, when you're always off to one of your mad flings,
It isn't fair when I need to speak, and you are never here,
It really is no fun not knowing, when you will reappear.
So just sit down and listen, to what I have to say,
It will only take a minute, and certainly not all day,
I have to get this off my chest, or else I will explode,
And I don't want to hear you 'giggle', or come up with another load
Of excuses, why you can't sit down and give me your attention,
I know that escaping from me, is always your intention,
But now I'm going to tell you, this is now my chance, Okay,
Oh, No! After all that I've forgotten, what I was going to say!
poem by Ernestine Northover
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The Significance of Freedom
Spread your wings famed American Eagle
And soar over the land that has seen its share
Of beauty sorrow and great change
Fly into the rising sun and listen to the beat
Of morning drums on the hillside
Dive into the blue water and grasp the hapless fish
Unaware of your magnificent presence
Use your ever prevailing intellect to sustain you
When lean times arrive and a snowy blanket covers all
Your friend is the warmth of a beguiling summer day
To us your presence assures freedom and strength
To proudly pursue and revel in your mystique
Let us feel honored sharing with you the same land
That we may never forget what truly matters and let
Your symbolic presence remind us we all share
"The Land of the Free and the Land of the Brave".
poem by Ingeborg von Finsterwalde
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Walking Man
Moving in silent desperation
Keeping an eye on the holy land
A hypothetical destination
Say, who is this waliking man?
Well, the leaves have come to turning
And the goose has gone to fly
And bridges are for buning
So dont you let that yearning
Pass you by
Walking man, walking man walks
Well, any other man stops and talks
But the walking man walks
Well the frost is on the pumpkin
And the hay is in the barn
An pappys come to rambling on
Stumbling around drunk
Down on the farm
And the walking man walks
Doesnt know nothing at all
Any other man stops and talks
But the walking man walks on by
Walk on by
Most everybodys got seed to sow
It aint always easy for a weed to grow, oh no
So he dont hoe the row for no one
Oh for sure hes always missing
And something is never quite right
Ah, but who would want to listen to you
Kissing his existence good night
Walking man walk on by my door
Well, any other man stops and talks
But not the walking man
Hes the walking man
Born to walk
Walk on walking man
Well now, would he have wings to fly
Would he be free
Golden wings against the sky
Walking man, walk on by
So long, walking man, so long
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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After It's Gone!
wild eyed strangers...
kids wearing dirty clothes,
and hand me down coats.
people walking, head down,
in the early morning cold.
just a few stores open,
the price of gas up.
smoke rises from chimneys,
all is quiet, as if waiting,
for the next storm to come.
life goes stumbling down,
the mail falls from the box.
families sleeping in cars,
gotta move with the sun.
the town clock strikes, echoing,
the steps of boots long worn...
empty buildings shout out
the rage of the dispossessed.
all that was, or could be,
now nothing more...
than the bitter taste of coffee,
two hours after it's gone!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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A walk through the clouds! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Walking through floating clouds in a vale;
Only sound of rushing water, as we exhale
Out the white smoke one day, early December.
With envy I watch hill folk walk at leisure.
Panting, with sore hamstrings, how far
Is the water fall; it will take just about an hour
Don’t rush as the climb is steep all the way up.
We sat on the unpaved road – huffed and puffed.
With a walking stick, carefully took each step.
Plucked some wild flowers, saw some spider webs.
Looking at me, he said we are almost there, don’t frown.
If you wish we can catch our breath and sit down.
Take your time; we can’t give up after coming so far.
Suddenly we heard the gurgling sound of water.
He tucked a few wild flowers behind my ear
See, that wooden canopy; we are almost there.
Enraptured watched the water fall; it was icy cold.
I saw him take off his shoes and hurriedly jeans fold.
He pulled me and said come on let’s have a shower.
Sneazing, chilled to bones; hills joined in the laughter.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Unicorn 7
This forest glade, mossy, silent underfoot,
shaft of sunlight catching the quivering flight of woodland moths,
tempts even the shyest, slender deer
whose slightest nostril twitch, reveals a whole forest’s map;
the crackle of a single twig, a disappearing, graceful leap;
yet even the deer graze undisturbed
when in a thought’s space, that creature’s there;
for not proximity but presence, is what they share;
each, in peace, moves in the other’s presence;
this we know as peace.
and on the high hills where the air is ever on the move,
the eagle, circling like the first navigator
of the globe – yet seeing so much more –
glances undisturbed; with knowledge, and love, too, that’s beyond
family, or prey, when that strange, familiar white creature
with flowing mane, prances, canters, into sight; their presence shared
so far apart; so near.
and in the foamy waves, the dolphins leap and sport
around it, as that creature, open-mouthed as if in joy,
shakes from its wet and glorious mane
the salty drops of water, while the dolphins
speak to it in a language beyond beauty’s sound –
so this noble creature in its turn
undisturbed by those to whom it shows itself
beyond all perturbations of the world;
detached, yet gives itself to all;
Orpheus, or unicorn, or Muse –
to be led by such a creature, joyously,
knowing nothing of the where or here or there
but trust – this the poetry of the world.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Angels
angels are all around, at times they are on the ground
to them there are no barriers for they are the lords carriers.
just like mail carriers here on earth.
they carry the lords words to the priests, kings and the poor.
the lord is word-forever more.
they touch even the coldest of hearts then they could get a new start.
they sometimes walk the earth, just as we.
touch us with their hearts, and change our destinies.
at times we feel; their presence all around-and yet.
we do not hear a sound.
we know that god has given all of us guardian angels
they watch us, and guide us, and strengthen us
in our hours of weakness.
when a person walks away from a crash
it is because they were there in a flash.
we must give thanks to the angels up above
for their presence and their love.
poem by Louis Rams
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September Morn
I watch the World around me
As again I hear nature call
For it is the end of summertime
And the awakening of a beautiful fall.
The leaves have changed their colors
The skies became icy white
My heart becomes exceedingly joyful
At Septembers, beautiful sight.
The rustling wind has turned to cold
The leaves have changed to brown
This moment, I pray to hold
As the leaves fall onto the ground.
The squirrels scurry from their trees
The birds have all flown away
It is another September morning
I feel it with each step that I take.
With a cold wind against my back
I journey to a great tree
To pick up the jewels that she left there
An acorn, and a lonely leaf.
I shiver as I walk
With a leaf and acorn in hand
I watch fall as it arrives around me,
So happy is this man.
I then walk up unto my wife
I present her with the leaf and acorn
So happy I am with this fall,
That I give Her my September morn.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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The sunlight of God
The sunlight of Gods love,
Oh such strength, from above;
Taking care of each daughter and son,
Thankyou Lord, for the care given under the Sun.
The sunlight of God, the immeasurable love,
He gives and gives, and sends peace like a dove;
Peace that passeth all understanding,
Thanks to You, for not letting me get demanding.
The sunlight of God, You shine Your light,
Helping us to see, our wrongs, and make them right;
Not allowing us to grow away from You,
Thank You Lord, you help me learn too.
The sunlight of God, is where I will live,
When my life's work is ended, a home He'll give;
I long to be living in God's presence one day,
Thank you Lord, for strength in me, is what I say.
poem by Margaret Haig
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A Wingless Bird?
We dwell in thee Oh God
As the fish dwells in the sea
We find our place in you
As a lock is to a key
To walk outside your presence
Is like a bird that has no wings
This bird that cannot fly
Is the bird that cannot sing
When we have left our first love
Then we stand outside the door
When this lion opens up its mouth
This lion finds it cannot roar
To dwell in any other place
Than deep within His heart
Is to stand upon the platform
And watch the train depart
Oh Lord we find our place in you
As the bird soars in the sky
If our place is not in you
Then we must surely die
Can a fish live out of water?
Can the wingless bird begin to fly?
Could a flower bloom in perpetual darkness?
Or would the flower surely die?
You are the wings that give us flight
You are the Sun that ends the night
You are the waters of the deep
You are the harvest that we reap
I am your exceeding great reward
Seek me with all your heart
Dwell with Me, your King, your Lord
And we shall never be apart
poem by Frank McEleny
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Notes From The Night
Rilke once said
if he spent all of his life
studying and working
he hoped to
be able to write
four good lines of poetry
think i'll quit writing
grow a big garden,
cut and stack wood
for all who are cold
save as many stray dogs
as i can
spend a lot of time
playing with and listening to
small children
and sit with as many
old people left alone
to die as i can
read Rilke daily,
and drink a lot of
black coffee
and hope like hell
that just before i die
i can write one good line
of poetry
i'd be happy with that!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Strangers
Where are you going I dont mind
Ive killed my world and Ive killed my time
So where do I go what do I see
I see many people coming after me
So where are you going to I dont mind
If I live too long Im afraid Ill die
So I will follow you wherever you go
If your offered hand is still open to me
Strangers on this road we are on
We are not two we are one
So youve been where Ive just come
From the land that brings losers on
So we will share this road we walk
And mind our mouths and beware our talk
till peace we find tell you what Ill do
All the things I own I will share with you
If I feel tomorrow like I feel today
Well take what we want and give the rest away
Strangers on this road we are on
We are not two we are one
Holy man and holy priest
This love of life makes me weak at my knees
And when we get there make your play
cos soon I feel youre gonna carry us away
In a promised lie you made us believe
For many men there is so much grief
And my mind is proud but it aches with rage
And if I live too long Im afraid Ill die
Strangers on this road we are on
We are not two we are one
Strangers on this road we are on
We are not two we are one
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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