Old Man's Poems
old man's poems
written from a distance,
time and experience demand...
aged like good whiskey,
taken in sips, not gulps!
hang like clouds at sunset,
can burst into violent storms!
make love to the soul long and slow,
simmering o'er the fire.
weep with sadness like slow rain
in the night where no one can see....
written in stone like an epitaph,
an unmarked grave on a forgotten hill.
howl in the darkness like a lone wolf,
whisper like a child's simple prayer....
all too often smell like an old man,
rocking in his chair in an empty room!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Written In Stone
I'm gonna take you down to the riverside
Where the water runs slow and wide
There's a big ole rock out in the middle
And I took my hammer and chisel
And worked all night so you could see
Just how much you mean to me
I carved your name right next to mine
And it'll be there till the end of time
And my love will last at least that long
It's written in stone how I feel for you
It's written in stone what I want to do
Spend my life and life hereafter loving you
And darling if we live to be 100
Or if we don't make it half that long
I want you to know how I feel for you
Is written in stone
There's a place on the edge of town
When I was a kid I found
Two names on a stone together
Lying side by side forever
And it was then and there I knew
If I ever thought a love was true
I'd surely want to write it down
On something that would be around
When all the spoken words have come and gone
It's written in stone how I feel for you
It's written in stone what I want to do
Spend my life and life hereafter loving you
And darling if we live to be 100
Or if we don't make it half that long
I want you to know what I feel for you
Is written in stone
And when this life has come and gone
Our love will still be
Written in stone how I feel for you
Written in stone what I want to do
Spend my life and life hereafter loving you
And darling if we live to be 100
Or if we don't make it half that long
I want you to know how I feel for you
Is written in stone
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Of All The Poems I Have Written And Forgotten
OF ALL THE POEMS I HAVE WRITTEN AND FORGOTTEN
Of all the poems written and forgotten
Are there any worthy of remembrance?
I go on losing my poems as I make more of them-
The same old story
The future calls
And the past is forgotten
And all futures
Become past.
When will I learn to remember
My own work?
To cherish it
As I do that of others?
Line after line
Racing into the distance
Of a never- to- be – known
And forever forgotten
Unreality.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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For your love
‘For your love’
Open your eyes
Take in the sights
Not in the dark love
Keep on the lights love
That’s the sight of true love
Take it slow love
Take time to know love
Make my eyes glow love
Open your nostrils
Take in the smell
It’s there In the air
The high of true love
That’s the smell of true love
Take it slow love
Take time to know love
Make my eyes glow love
Open your ears
Listen to the sounds
The sounds of heartbeats pulsating
To the beat of pure love
That’s the sound of true love
Take it slow love
Take time to know love
Make my eyes glow love
Open your mouth
Stick out your tongue
Taste the sweet love
On my loving lips
That’s the taste of true love
Take it slow love
Take time to know love
Make my eyes glow love
Open your mouth
Speak to me about love
Give me the poetry
Of everlasting love
That’s the language of true love
Take it slow love
Take time to know love
Make my eyes glow love
Love can be a beautiful experience
Experience will let you know
That an experience lover
Will take it real slow
That’s the beauty of true love
Take it slow love
Take time to know love
My eyes glowing eternally
For your love
Michael Micmac Mccrory
poem by Michael Micmac Mccrory
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Lonliness (Feels)
lonliness...
feels like,
the train passing,
middle of the night,
long forgotten tracks.
the factory building empty,
set ablaze by anger.
the flight of the crows,
pawprints left by a stray cat.
the tears of a man
when he thinks that
no one can see.
the clouds that bury stars,
the trees that hold up the sky.
the black hand of death
wrenching light from the heart.
the prayer long unanswered.
the echo of your own voice,
the key that doesnt fit the lock.
unmarked stones in a graveyard.
the windowpane covered with dust.
the lone wolf staring,
the letter sent to the wrong address.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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On The Road
I 's boun' to see my gal to-night--
Oh, lone de way, my dearie!
De moon ain't out, de stars ain't bright--
Oh, lone de way, my dearie!
Dis hoss o' mine is pow'ful slow,
But when I does git to yo' do'
Yo' kiss 'll pay me back, an' mo',
Dough lone de way, my dearie.
De night is skeery-lak an' still--
Oh, lone de way, my dearie!
'Cept fu' dat mou'nful whippo'will--
Oh, lone de way, my dearie!
De way so long wif dis slow pace,
'T 'u'd seem to me lak savin' grace
Ef you was on a nearer place,
Fu' lone de way, my dearie.
I hyeah de hootin' of de owl--
Oh, lone de way, my dearie!
I wish dat watch-dog would n't howl:--
Oh, lone de way, my dearie!
An' evaht'ing, bofe right an' lef',
Seem p'int'ly lak hit put itse'f
In shape to skeer me half to def--
Oh, lone de way, my dearie!
I whistles so's I won't be feared--
Oh lone de way, my dearie!
But anyhow I's kin' o' skeered,
Fu' lone de way, my dearie.
De sky been lookin' mighty glum,
But you kin mek hit lighten some,
Ef you 'll jes' say you's glad I come,
Dough lone de way, my dearie.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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My Soul Confesses...
my soul confesses
to the vast night swallowing
the last remnants of day,
to the unborn child,
unwanted, unnamed!
to the empty grave,
and the dirt praying
for the casket.
to the lover betrayed
by the fear to touch.
to the soul wrapped in cobwebs,
and the heart's body
afraid to be naked.
to the unfulfilled,
the unspoken, and unclaimed.
to the bastard son
of the demon and the mortal.
to the holy infidel,
who tore off his collar.
to the unspoken prayer
of the farmer looking for rain.
to the cell and the gallows,
and the righteous fire.
to the truth written
in the hidden parts of the soul,
to the pilgrim who turned
from salvation to compassion.
and again to the night,
the long night of redemption.
without a trace of regret,
without holding back!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Simply, For You
why is it so hard to talk
to the one you love most...
when time and years and chapters,
testify in tired feet?
the wars have ended,
the guns are now still.
even the storm left,
a candle lit by the bed.
do i know you?
do you know me?
or are we the sound...
of doors opening and closing?
i cant say your name
without something in me dying...
i cant see the sky,
without seeing your face.
are we so old,
has time written our epitaph?
just old polaroids,
in an album boxed up....
i brush against you,
and wolves howl in the moonlight.
the soft look in your eyes,
tastes like rain.
you open your mouth,
and swallows fly...
have i set the nest on fire,
laying brick in the sun?
yet i am not dead,
and neither are you....
you smell like thunder,
i burn in the night!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Stranger!
everything into the pot...
hearts, souls, dreams, prayers,
old and young, flavors and colors
diverse... simmering, simmering...
keep the fire steady.
seasoned with experience,
with turmoil, and trials..
we wait in dead silence
for the feast to come.
great birds circle, clouds heavy...
with rain... all must come,
or none, it just happens that way!
in the distance faint music,
there's a knock on the door...
the Stranger has arrived,
and time has expired!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Marital Agonies
she sits on a rocking chair
but she is not rocking it
her eyes stare at the sea without
a horizon
she spreads her legs looking
for a spot to
rest her toes,
he is out there looking at the sunset
his shadow is consumed
by darkness
he comes home
opens the PC and begins to write some poems
mostly about
funerals
unlike before
there were lots of sunrises everywhere as though
mornings are the only
seasons
he pauses, he hears the rocking of the chair.
the TV is off
he cannot find the letters to form the words.
he stares at the monitor
he is silent.
there is no break in this monotonous sound of silence.
he wishes he were a stone.
she wishes she is a bird.
one refuses to grow further.
the other wants to fly away, no matter where.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Moments Of Writing Poetry
Draft poems sometimes like
loose ripped off pieces of paper
to be drafted out roughly upon.
Draft poems hang around
in the strangest places waiting
to be written out one day.
Draft poems wait for a poet
to wake at the beginning of day
to be written out, in any
seized moments, sacrificed.
This is now time, shower time, eating time,
reflective time, conversation time, work time;
t.v. time, driving time, riding motorcycle time,
going to sleep time, cooking time, or any time.
Draft poems can only be written
in spared moments of seized time.
Draft poems can only be written today,
they will not wait for fair weather like hay,
which lays around waiting to be harvested.
Draft poems will not wait for a clear sunny day to dawn,
and then mature slowly, over a perfect golden summer.
Draft poems are ever now or never
if they are ever to be swiftly written.
A draft may possibly be perfected
upon any future day of favoured writing;
but a draft never written is a poem
never written, never completed, never known.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Hit Me Like A Train
I have visions, I have visions of a happy land
And in this happy land, happy land
There is still one unhappy man
Because of all the things he wants
There is always something he cant have
Its like a siren singing, like a church bell ringing
I can feel you winning, and my head starts spinning
Now Im back at the beginning
I, i, I see you lying there and
I, I felt a wave come over me and
I, i, I thought I had escaped you
As I sat down by the roadside
And it hit me like a train
Hit me like a freight train
When the truth came down on me
It hit me like a long, slow train
It is written, I know its written
All gods children get smitten
And if theres anyone, anybody
I know the [lord] can fit that description
And if I could turn back the hands of time
Still I wouldnt know what Im supposed to change
Its like a well gone dry, like a kiss goodbye
As the grip gets tighter, I continue to fight it
Then you strike me with your lightning
I, i, I woke up in a cold sweat and
I, I thought I heard you call my name and
I, i, I had to reach out for your fingers
And before I could call the doctor
You hit me like a train
Hit me like a freight train
When the truth came down on me
Swear you hit me like a long, slow train
Lord you hit me like a train
Hit me like a coal train
When your love came down on me yeah
Say hit me like a long, slow
Lord I feel it coming down and
I, i, i, i, oooh
I, i, i, oh lord have mercy [on me]
I cant hold out no longer
I was ready to surrender
And it hit me like a train yeah
Hit me like a freight train
When your love came down on me yeah
And it me like a long, slow train
Lord you hit me like a train
Hit me like a soul train
When your love, when your love came down on me child
Hit me like a long slow [how long was it] long train
Hit me like a coal train?
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whiskey Girls
Long hair, flashing eyes
The kind of hips that make you fantasize
A slow smile, just meant to tease
One look and youll be weak at the knees
They got my head in a whirl
cos I cant get enough of those whiskey girls
They got the world at their fingertips
With just a look and lick of the lips
They understand the rhythm of the night
Im in a daze, I dont know wrong from right
They got my head in a whirl
cos I cant get enough of those whiskey girls
Chorus
Hypnotised - by the whiskey girls
Compromised - out of this world
Lord above, could this be love
Aint no doubt about it
Im crazy about the whiskey girls
Whiskey girls are out on the town
Theyll break your heart, theyll bring you down
Whiskey girls are out of control
For just one touch youd sell your soul
The moon is high Im getting out of the line
Whishful thinking with a one track mind
Im having flashes, oh cant you see
Theyre walking through my private fantasy
Wearing only a necklace of pearls
Those slow walking, long-legged whiskey girls
Chorus twice
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lone Wolf
I am a lone wolf
I always was and will be
I feel fine, I am resigned to this
I am a lone wolf
I am a lone wolf
Got my cares
Wrapped up all nice and neat
In my suitcase
Ill take it down the street
To a place with plenty of space for me
I am a lone wolf
I am a lone wolf
It blows my mind
That people wanna try to get inside my tired head
I am a lone wolf
I am a lone wolf
I am a lone wolf
Nobody needs to get too close to me
Youll only see this truth
I am a lone wolf
song performed by by Eels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am.... (Rotting Wood)
i am...
the old man smell of rotting wood,
the stagnant pool of water,
devoid of life!
the smell of young lust,
and the stink of love over years.
i am the children raised,
and the empty room.
i am the mistakes made,
and the chances long gone.
i am the moments of joy,
that no one can steal.
i am the prayer of the doubter,
the honesty of the naked moment.
i am the naked body of an old man,
where sparrows build nests!
i am the turn of the wheel,
the hum of the beat.
i am the hunger that races
through the darkness by moonlight.
i am the magic and the mystical,
the simple and the plain.
i am the hoot of the owl,
the stranger at the door.
i am the knowing without knowing;
i am dirty, and sweaty,
and covered with sap.
i am the words hidden,
in the growl and the howl....
i am the ghost, and the remembrance,
the touch that made you tremble.
i am the moan in your mirror,
the shadow dancing by your grave!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Slow Down
Chorus:
I said slow down--
Slow down and live, my friend
Take time--take time to understand
The things--the things you hope to win
Before--before your journeys end
Slow down--slow down and try to do
The things--the things thats right for you
You know--you know
The soul--the soul
You save could be your own
Albert abernathy never spent a foolish dime
Rising at the crack of dawn and working overtime
You know, he never told me how much happiness he found
Yesterday we laid him in the finest grave in town.
Chorus:
I said slow down--
Slow down and live, my friend
Take time--take time to understand
The things--the things you hope to win
Before--before your journeys end.
Slow down--slow down and try to do
The things--the things thats right for you
You know--you know
The soul--the soul
You save could be your own.
Little sally tremble is a music city queen
You can see her picture now on every magazine
Sallys come a long way from the life she left behind
Shes had six gold records and been married seven times!
Chorus:
I said slow down--slow down and live my friend
Take time--take time to understand
The things--the things you hope to win
Before--before your journeys end
Slow down--slow down and try to do
The things--the things thats right for you
You know--you know
The soul--the soul
You save could be your own.
song performed by by Kris Kristofferson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Scriptures
i read the scriptures written in human faces,
in calloused hands, in bruises and scars.
in the spider's web, in the trail of the snail.
in the pot stained with use,
in the axe and the plow.
in the old woman's silence,
in the broken window.
in worn out boots, and the broken lock.
in the gravel drive,
in the eyes of the hungry....
in the fear of those oppressed by war.
in the dead squirrel's body,
in the nest left empty.
in the prisoner staring
through a window barred.
in the old man's chair,
a dog's turd and a hill of ants.
in the fallen leaf,
in the empty room.
in solitude and stillness,
in the prayer of lonliness.
in trash strewn in the alley,
in the grave unmarked.
in the truth of doubt,
in a puddle of rainwater.
in fresh cut grass,
in the cow fresh milked.
in the lover's touch,
in the dialogue of silence.
in the shovel, the hammer, and the flute.
in the grain of the old tree,
and the woman giving birth...
let us speak of nothing less!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Soap
you wish i were true
to every word i wrote in my poems
like sadness
that i must be sad when my poems
talk about sadness
like separation and disgust and pain
that i must suffer
with the poems i write that i must have despair
and pain too
and disgust
for every word of disgust written in every word
in every line
how cruel of you
how cruel of truth
how can i justify my death when i speak only of death
and in the very poem
where i write the word
death
there is soap
there is this box of untruths in pandora and when i open it
they must spread and you may refuse to believe
me again
but it would be very cruel of you
to make these poems
all these poems be my life my only life
and lived
and day by day lived in accordance with the
mouths of these poems
empathy
is the word, it is like i am putting my feet in another person's
shoes
then i write, and i could have written about this word: happiness
joy, bliss
ecstasy, light, and amazing glory
i choose not to,
i think, i have too much of it, and i do not share it for now
there is no necessity
and i cannot really help
with so much loneliness and sadness out there
with them i stretch my hands to hold them and feel them
and they all become
myself. it is not soap then, and there are no bubbles in the skies
there is no child playing amazed by the bubbles that burst and by the
bubbles that
are so abundant.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Have Written Many Poor Poems
I have written many poor poems
That may not be poems at all -
They are single in dimension
Prose
In short lines of seemingly poetic form-
They do not call for their rereading
They are not difficult in ambiguities-
They seem to me only one simple clearly understood thing-
Like this poem
They can be understood at once
And forgotten soon after.
I have written many poor poems
That may not be poems at all
And this is another one.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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How Slow
How slow the time passes
On hot summer days,
How heavy the air,
And the heat, and the haze.
How slow the sun's creeping
In reaching for noon,
How long now the day-time
Belonging to June.
How dry lies the earth
In the farmer's old hands,
How slow plod the herds
As they stroll off his land.
How sweet the bird sings
In the old apple tree,
How slow the leaves falling
O'er pathway and lea.
How far the bell tolls
Over green evening fields,
How close now the haymakers'
Singing and reels.
How slow the time passes
In twilight's night shade,
How slow fell the footsteps
True lovers once made.
Written March 1995
poem by John Carter Brown
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Slow Dancing
My love is cruel as the night
She steals the sun, and shuts out the light
All of my colors, they turn to blue
Win or lose
She does it slow dancing
Slow dancing
She does it slow...dancing
All night long
Scarlet eyes and a see-through heart
She saw me coming right from the start
She picked me up, but had me down on my knees
Just a beggin her, beggin her please
Take me slow dancing
Slow dancing
She took me slow...dancing
All night long
And I dont know a man
Search for himself in his lovers eyes
No I dont know why a man
Sees the truth but needs the lies
My love is restless as the wind
She moves like a shadow across my skin
She left with my conscience, I dont want it back
It just gets in the way
If you wanna go slow dancing
Slow dancing
She took me slow...dancing
All night long
Slow...dancing
Slow...dancing
Slow...
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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