Just Poor Folks!
just poor folks,
living in an old house,
sleeping in a corner
'neath old handmade quilts.
scrubbing scarred floors
with pinesol pride mops....
while the smell of cornbread and
beans hangs in the air.....
stuffing cracks in the windows
against the cold...
kerosene heater,
2 five gallon cans....
a bare light bulb
hangs over the table....
they sit in silence....
reading and thinking...
the old car in the drive,
might crank, and might not....
but that's tomorrow....
and tonite,
they're almost warm!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Related quotes
A Southern Narrative
The tired old farm buildings
Were slumping into the ground
Like exhausted children,
Fighting to stay upright,
But too old, too tired
To try much longer.
Possibly, the only thing
Holding them vertically
Was the amount of vines
Sprouting out the tops
Of the tilting roofs.
Doors gaped wide,
Hinges hanging away,
Most of their screws missing,
Holding bits and pieces
Of the stout planks
Which used to make doors.
A heavy metal winch
Swung from the upper
Door of the barn,
Creaking and whining
With age.
Where once it had been
The lifter of heavy loads,
It now hangs limply
On a frayed rope,
Empty and useless.
The stalls stand bare as well,
Rotting, sour hay on floors
Which used to be cleaned daily.
Rusted milk cans tilt
Against walls that can barely
Hold them upright.
A saddle still hangs
By the vacant doorway.
Where it had once shone proudly
With bright polish and clean brass,
And smelled of horse,
It now drops bits of dried-out leather,
Like a moulting bird,
Onto the unused floor.
Cans of paint, bits of brass,
Rusty wire, old hoes and rakes
Lay in a jumble on shelves
Falling off the walls.
The homeplace, the house,
Shows the same state of neglect,
Doors ajar, windows sagging,
Tiles tilting and sliding off the roof.
The porch dips and sags,
Dragging the ground
Like the old preacher's wife,
Wearing her finest clothes,
With her slip hanging down,
Tattered and dirty,
And very worn at the edges.
The house beside the road,
Where people lived
And children played,
Is empty now,
And falling down.
The echos of happy feet
Are heard,
Tapping to the sound
Of Poppy's fiddle,
But the house beside the road
Is empty, and forlorn.
When a gentle voice
Is heard in the house,
It is only a singing breeze,
Sifting itself through
The cracks in the roof
Of the house I used to call
Home.
Linda Scarlett Treat
January 6,2010
poem by Scarlett Treat
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Kerosene
everywhere I look I see
exclusive huddled
uninviting shelter
is privilege
of the same and competent
kerosene keeps me warm
I'm alone to watch it burn
kerosene
exposure is a pitiful
and pointless way of dying
before it gets me
I'll set a funeral pyre
kerosene keeps me warm
I'm alone to watch it burn
kerosene
i'm a man and
my dignity won't wave
Tonight buildings rage!
kerosene keeps me warm
it feels so good
to watch it burn kerosene
kerosene keeps me warm
feels so good
to watch it burn kerosene
song performed by by Bad Religion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Maybe (feat. Holly Dunn)
MAYBE
Maybe, is a word that hangs between us
It's the thing to say when all else has failed
Maybe we failed, maybe
Maybe, but I can't bare say it's over
Til the love we found is hopelessly lost
Maybe I could, maybe not.
Our lives might have come unwound
But have we've come so far
That we can't turn the hurt around
Our hearts still remain the same
Oh, first to wonder why
Oh, ask to make a change.
But maybe
Maybe, if we hold on to tomorrow
Just hold on, just hold on
Then we just might find a feeling again
Not let it end.
Maybe, it's a word that hangs between us
Maybe, time would help the wondering to stop
Maybe we will know, maybe not
Maybe, maybe.
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Frosty on His Flag (Clementine Sweet)
frosty is lonely
he hangs from a winter blue flag by a pink-roofed house
being blown by a salt-sea breeze
he has no snow people to talk to
he ripples his cloth edges among the sky-high palm trees and
above the candy-green grass
frosty is an outcast
to contrast the deep blue of his flag lies the pale desert sky,
shot through with bright Cali sunshine
frosty is a picture of out-of-placement:
he hangs and he hangs
he sighs and he sighs
all the while homesick
all the while thinking
that sometimes, sometimes
irony is clementine sweet
poem by Gina Prettybrowneyes
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A Baby Asleep after Pain
As a drenched, drowned bee
Hangs numb and heavy from a bending flower,
So clings to me
My baby, her brown hair brushed with wet tears
And laid against her cheek;
Her soft white legs hanging heavily over my arm
Swinging heavily to my movements as I walk.
My sleeping baby hangs upon my life,
Like a burden she hangs on me.
She has always seemed so light,
But now she is wet with tears and numb with pain
Even her floating hair sinks heavily,
Reaching downwards;
As the wings of a drenched, drowned bee
Are a heaviness, and a weariness.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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Little House Made Out Of Logs
I was raised in a little house
Made out of logs
Had a dirt chimney
Made from moss
Cut out windows
No glass at all
Little house
Made out of logs
Never swept any floor
Made out of dirt
You don't see any more
Kerosene lamps
Water from the spring
Makes me thirsty again
Raised on potatoes and cornbread
Wood stove was all we had
Never thought much about the holidays
Just a season for another time and place
Can't forget how I was raised
Makes you learn to appreciate
I could do the same in time
Little log house
On my mind
poem by Monette Paul
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neath A Cold Gray Tomb Of Stone
Passing by a lonesome graveyard
Everything I love is gone
Weeping as they lay my darling
Neath a cold gray tomb of stone
In this world i'm left to wander
With no one to call my own
While my precious darling's sleeping
Neath a cold gray tomb of stone
Out there in that lonesome graveyard
She is sleeping all alone
And I burried my heart with her
Neath a cold gray tomb of stone
Skies above are dark and stormy
All the sunshine,all is gone
For the while my love is sleeping
Neath a cold gray tomb of stone
My heart is dead and yet i'm living
Traveling through this world alone
I wish that I was with my darling
Neath a cold gray tomb of stone
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Duct Tape World
rice and beans,
in the slow pot...
morning hangs,
duct tape lives
in the balance....
eyes wide open,
looking both ways...
grab a smoke,
and a shovel....
join in!
wiping last night's love
from the corner of the eyes,
or maybe just memory,
and an empty chair....
long autumn day
on the path to deliverence....
rice and beans,
in a duct tape world!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Late Night Mom
Late night mom
You know what to do
Doesn’t matter now
The monsters won’t say boo
You’re up so late
The moon’s asleep too
Late night mom
The kids worry
All night long
They wake up
And you’re passed out on the lawn
Late night mom
Knows just what to do
Your kid’s staying up late
To see what you’ll do
Thinking to herself
Why isn’t mommy in bed?
Late night mom is
Sleeping with the meds
Too close for comfort
A fire by the house
Smoking your cigarette
Thinking without a doubt
Late night mom
Is chilling in the house
Late night mom
Sleeping on the couch
Instead of in her bed
A cushion instead
Of a warm husband’s embrace
Late night mom
Passed out on the floor
Don’t wake the kids
You’re just asking for more
Around two or four
Dad will come out
And pick you up
While you pout
He’ll carry you over
To the room overhead
And help you climb
Slowly to bed
poem by Scarred Unknown
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Sword
On the wall it hangs,
silently.
In scabbard encased.
Secure.
Secrets
What secrets might it conceal?
Courage, heroism
earned on battle's field?
Challenge?
In conflict no quarter.
Honor?
Was it never drawn with biased intent?
Silence.
Is that subtle clue to all?
Disturb not sleeping essence,
for to disrupt its peace.
Its honed edge will draw
taste, and carry blood's stain.
Sword.
On the wall it hangs,
silent, foreboding.
Symbol..., prophesy?
12Aug10
poem by Kurt Hearth
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A winters morning
A winters morning
~
Amongst a listless morning
still thoughts linger
in the soft pale light
cold dew hangs in the air
bare trees line the horizon
a backdropp of grey cloud
there is nothing more
or less beautiful seen
within a winters portrait
than a world changing
stripped bare, naked
the frailty of life
witnessed
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Flagging
The flag hangs limply now,
its better days blowing behind it,
it's colours fading.
I remember when its vibrancy
shone like the sunshine
as it billowed softly.
The flag hangs limply now,
behind me, just like my dreams
and I cannot touch tomorrow.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Silence
So silent is the world to-night
The lamp gives silence out like light,
The latticed windows open wide
Show silence, like the night, outside:
The nightingale's faint song draws near
Like musical silence to mine ear.
The empty house calls not to me,
'Here, but for fate, were thou and she--'
Its gibe for once is checked. To-night
Silence is queen in grief's despite,
And even the longing of my soul
Is silent 'neath this hour's control.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Where Does That Boy Hang Out
Where where where is he over there
Where where where is he over there
Hes on the corner waiting waiting
Waiting for the right love to walk on by
Hes on the look out he should cause
Hes the one that they take their lovin from
When he looks down deep into their eyes
Their knees start shakin but much to their surprise
Hes gone hes gond hes done it again
Where does the boy hang out
Their on the street dreamin alot
But dreams are trouble if theyre caught
Where does the boy hang out
They try to run away prayin looking for the place
Where he wont be hes on the make
And they tempt him cause hes the one
Theyre gonna take their lovin from
When he looks down deep into their eyes
Their hearts start beating but much to their surprise
Hes gone hes done it again
Where does the boy hang out
Why does he do it
Why must he do it
Dont he know that hes a man jst the same
Oh why must he show it
Why must he know it
That his words will always show em the way
The boy hangs out
The boy hangs out
I said the boy cant help it
The boy hangs out
The boy hangs out
I said the boy cant help it
Im gonna find him and tell him
That he dont have to prove anything to anyone
Im gonna show him that hes alright
And talkins just as good as lvin deep in the night
When he tells his story
So hard to resist hes slow talking
No need to be kissed
Hes smooth hes done it again
Where does the boy hang out
Theyre on the corner dreamin about
But dreams are trouble if theyre caught
Where does the boy hang out
Where does the boy hang out
Ad lib
song performed by by Taylor Dayne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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House Of Pain
I live inthe house of pain
And inside of that house of pain is very cold
But to fix it I had to buy a small heater
And now the house of pain is warm
But there are dust and dust mites
And the only way that I can fix it
Is by sweeping all over the house of pain
poem by Aldo Kraas
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People from a world corner
The worst poverty in the world
The worst discrimination in the world
While people thinking about Global Warming
Corner people thinking how to survive
Corner people struggling one day by one day
While people living in the rocket age
Corner people walking miles to miles for one day survive
Corner people surprising whenever a plane is flying
While people thinking about living on other planets
Corner people crying to get a four feet square area
Corner people watering their blood for a four feet squares area
While people thinking about homosexual marriage
Corner people giving their lives for saving their children
Corner people growing never ever seeing their parents
While people thinking about which food is the best in the world
Corner people running thousand miles to get a few rice
Corner people dying lack of food and water
While people thinking about legalization of prostitution
Corner people not knowing what is the law
Corner people never seeing decided by a just justice
Corner people are not people!
Corner people are not from this world!
I would wonder............
poem by Zaw Myat Htoo
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S4
now i am hearing the rushing steps
of the fish vendor
towards the market
passing by the road fronting
my blinds
a busy day,
the red ant below my feet is at it again
finding some crumbs
of cookies
under the computer table
beside the swivel chair
i always have a word
despite,
the ant wonders
why are you doing this?
the nails have no feelings
and so are the feet of the chairs
the monitor is a eunuch
the room fills itself with so much mess
rambling books
scattered papers still unread
piling folders and
dusty nooks
the light brown curtains need
badly a laundrywoman
the walls are calling for a painter
and the floors yell for a scrubbing and mopping
this is the earth of being
needing an updat a cleansing of some sort
a deluge perhaps
and what must remain must only be the essentials
a pen a piece of paper
discard the table and the chair
for man can squat
and still relate to what is bare and empty.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Animal House
Morning is breaking with death on the street
Driving downtown in a red corvette
The daemons and satans are creeping around
La nights are madhouse nights
The murderers - are heroes
Theyre speeding all over the town
And justice - is drunken
Im tumbling upside down
Im a madman
Living in an animal house
Im a madman
Living in an animal house
Living in an animal house
Rockers in concert are serving the bible
Praying in public is getting a habit
For selling out everything seems to be right, oh yeah
The sunset is crowded with tramps passing out
Theyre sleeping - in trash cans
Theres witchcraft in everyones eyes
Satans and daemons
All dressed up in suits and ties
Im a madman
Living in an animal house
Im a madman
Living in an animal house
Madman - going crazy - living in an animal house
Im a madman...
song performed by by U. D. O.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life Goes On!
behind the well lit window,
the coffee pot churns.
doors open and close,
and hair is combed.
in silent hurry,
the day laid out,
life goes on, life goes on.
things left unsaid,
perhaps a note.
the brush in passing
through the tangled hallway.
the tv news, grey anvil tongue.
eyes squinted, life goes on.
while on a vacant corner,
in an empty house
neath a burned out bulb,
nothing gathers in shadows...
prayers fall on deaf ears.
an empty bed, and the shelves are bare,
nothing rhymes nothing,
life goes on!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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