Perhaps Then... (Not A Man)
perhaps then, i am not a man....
i am the creek hidden
deep in the woods,
singing the hymn of rocks,
and stillness.
i am the gun laid down,
for the last time,
by the conscience of discontent.
i am the cry of the child,
born into a hungry world,
the eyes of the mother,
defying hope!
i am the snail that dances,
the deep growl of the dog,
i am firewood, cut and stacked,
in waiting.
i am the kiss of the chapter,
you read again and again...
i am the crossroads,
devoid of signs.
i am the headstone faded
by a hundred years,
the old chair rocking by itself.
i am the lamp left on,
the door that creaks,
the breeze that knows your hidden name.
i am the tongue unlocking
passions not yet defined,
that you didnt even know you had.
i am boots in the corner,
that dance to the beat,
awaiting feet, as if a lover.
i am a new set of strings,
on the old guitar,
the sound hidden inside of music.
i am the language of birds,
the sign on the forehead.
i am sin undressed and intimate.
i am smoke from the chimney,
of the abandoned house,
the tin roof electric with rain.
i am nothing a hundred times made over,
the crease in the blanket,
the indention on the pillow....
i am the grunt of god revealed,
and the shovel of eternity!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hidden
Hidden away I am.
Locked in my world of dispare.
I have to hide away.
Its safer that way.
No one can get me.
I can hide my pain.
Its all well hidden to the human life.
All hidden deep inside of me.
Hidden its all hidden.
Ive hidden myself away.
Hidden my life in my world.
Just hidden it all is.
Its best that way
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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My God Walks
my god walks naked in the stillness...
her long hair falling in the moonlight.
her bare feet touching the earth,
her lips wet with the dew.
her breasts heave with the coming
and going of the waves...
her eyes shine like lanterns,
her breath bathes the trees...
and in her softness small animals take refuge...
in her growl change is born...
in her desire time is renewed.
and she sings the hymn of dialogue,
and touching, always touching....
she bends down to me and whispers
her hidden name...
while spiders and turtles begin
the work of redemption...
wolves howl, and mountains breathe...
my god takes the hand of the hungry child,
and walks past the point of distance!
while i follow the sound of my own heart,
to the point of nearness!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Something
I'm writing in hope for something with sweet melody,
A rhythm that can be felt,
A beauty that can be read.
With words flowing like water over rocks,
Steadily without fault or obstruction.
A liquid in its purest state.
I'm writing in hope for something with sweet remembrance,
Like the scent of falling rain,
Or the memorable sound of a mothers cooing voice.
Something so memorable,
The slightest reminder sends you back to the exact moment,
Replaying in unbroken pattern of mind.
I'm writing in hope for something spectacular to happen,
For my words to form a feeling so deep they hurt,
For each image to be as clear as these words on this paper.
I want you to feel what I feel,
A feeling of lonely discontent,
Sitting alone in my own my own world, writing away.
I am writing this in hope for something to stick with you,
A message or a meaning that I've hidden inside a syllable,
A voice of reason that you have kept from yourself,
Silenced with the voice of your shallow desires.
A dream that you once had forgotten,
Lost in the darkness of the night.
I am writing this in hope for something to be brought to light.
Maybe a buried thought that you wish you never had,
Or an inner conflict that you hadn't noticed but feel tearing apart your skin,
Even an aspiration you promised to live up to but left to die.
Something so lost in the world of your mind,
Swallowed by deep chasms of thought and memory.
I am writing this in hope of telling a story.
The story of a world that can only be imagined in a dark room,
Hidden from the world and apart from anything else.
The story of a broken heart of a shortened life,
The story of the silent cries of a lost soul reaching for sanity.
My own story, perhaps, or even yours, is this your story?
I am writing in hope of making your thoughts and feelings dance,
A slow and steady music in the background,
Propelling your eyes left to right and back again.
Following the steps of each word,
The flow off each line and stanza.
An endless waltz with the reader and the writer, will you dance with me?
I am writing in hope of making an impression on your mind,
Maybe not an everlasting one, but even just a brief moment,
A moment of realization that you are now reading what I have written,
That for one moment in time our minds share the same space and thought,
Each word playing in our head the same as the other's.
Can you hear my voice, can you feel my thoughts?
I don't know why I am writing, or why I am writing what I am writing,
But I know that it has accomplished one thing,
It has given a purpose to something, if even just a piece of paper,
It has given worth to something that at one point was just a blank sheet,
Waiting for something to be etched into its surface, making it something.
I guess that's why I'm writing, I'm just writing; something.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Hidden Talent
Written by gerry beckley, 1998
Found on human nature.
Just like a person from another world
My eyes can see inside you, little girl
I see things that you dont want to see
I see things youre trying to hide from me
Im just trying to make you understand
All the ways you can affect this man
From the moment that you came in touch
With the power there to burn so much
Youve got hidden talent (yeah)
I bet youre gonna find some hidden talent, oh
You know your past is whats been bugging you
If youre ready girl ... do what you gotta do
Look for your life between the lines
Bad directions and poor designs
Youve got hidden talent (hidden talent, yeah)
I bet youre gonna find some hidden talent, oh
Hidden talent (hidden talent, yeah)
Check it out you ... got it, hidden talent, oh
With the advantage of perspective i
See theres more to you than meets the eye
But now the time must come to spread your wings and fly
Yeah (hidden talent) yeah
Hidden talent (hidden talent, yeah)
I bet youre gonna find some hidden talent, oh
Hidden talent (hidden talent, yeah)
Check it out ... you got it, hidden talent, oh
Hidden talent (hidden talent, yeah)
Affair without warning
Hidden talent, mmm (mmm)
Hidden talent (hidden talent, yeah)
I bet youre gonna find some hidden talent, oh
(fade)
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Perfect Harmony
In a world so far away
At the end of a closing day
A little child was born and raised
Deep in the forest on a hidden place
Mother never saw his face
Ancient spirits of the forest
Made him king of elves and trees
He was the only human being
Who lived in harmony
In perfect harmony
The woods protected
song performed by by Within Temptation from Mother Earth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Are The Empty...
i am the cross,
and i am the kiss...
i am the embrace,
and the parting stillness.
i am death falling from the trees,
i am eternity in the promise of snow.
i am the word spoken and heard,
slowly undressed with awe and hunger.
i am the tongue drawing history's face,
in every secret place, in every hidden treasure.
i am the fluid of love spillt with passion,
i am the touch, trembling and sure.
i am the shadow that lit the candle,
the shoe that fell to the floor.
i am the covered bridge,
and the sound of horses' hooves.
the screech of the owl,
the taunt of the moonlight.
i am the glass broken,
the panting of the darkness.
i am the chimney too long cold.
i am the name spoken in grunts,
the moan of the waves that cant find shore.
i am the wings that define the night,
you are the empty waiting to be filled!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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American Flags Burning
melted down candles,
boots by the door...
the taste of stone walls
lingers in my mouth.
sunlight sifting through
blinds faded by time...
the sound of birds
breaks the deep stillness.
American flags burning,
an old deserted station...
a rusted Ford up on blocks.
the weight of the waiting,
at the foot of the mountains.
the smell of coffee,
and church bells ringing.
time coiled like a viper,
the hammer, and the truth...
they're cracking eggs at the mission,
a lone sign laying beside the road:
'we are the 99%'...
a police car eases by.
melted down candles...
smoke rising from a vacant house.
American flags burning,
and the body count goes higher!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Poem Under the Pillow~
The Poem Under Pillow
It was last year..
Oo maybe this year
Poem written to hear
The poem very dear
Left under the pillow
Left to alone to bear
Far away from our hear
No one could get too near
This poem was hidden clearly
Hidden from the eyes...
Hidden by the poet because of fear
Hidden from the worlds' ears
Oo what a poem my dears
This poem is still under the...
The DanCe
Sitting on a shady hill, a trunk that kissed the ground,
Leaves in glimmery green, wild flowers scents mixes air in profound,
Clouds smoothly moving, the sky turning blue
And trace of the moon is still on cue...
Birds chirping, echoes of water falls is drifting
The DANCE echoed from the hidden speakers, soothing,
Sudden navigation of thoughts flashes back
As rhythm of the DANCe leaves a trance of the past...
A place like this away from the busy commotion of the streets
The first time I laid my feet, felt the happiness, I danced with grace.
As the man turned the stereo on, the DANCe filled the air,
Lifted my spirit to unexplainable joy, I flipped and swayed....
The DANCe of life I had for four years now
Tiring but rewarding of the fulfillment it brings,
Though hurtful events tattood in my heart and mind,
Looking back, it made me a better person and I'm greatful with that.
Now, I still have the DANCe laid on air
Still working out to learn from it and prepare,
My future, I may not know what lies ahead
Yet I am sure, I will DANCe, follow it's rhythm as it flows thru the air....
And as I close my eyes, I see the sun slowly sets
A bonfire slowly lit the place, the DANCe still has it's trace,
I stood, feeling the beat...opening my arms, wrapping on mine
Dancing in it's beat...waiting for the DANCe to cease...
Many dances I have shared with
Even dances with wolves, I have made,
Slow-fast, sensual-rock, salsa-tango-samba, name it I can
But one DANCe is missing which my heart screams....
The DANCe in solemn peace...soul that scream and weep...
Inner peace, inner DANCe of hope and faith...
And from HIS place, one day,
I would have the DANCe I long to have...
poem by InNer WhisPers
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A Hundred Times Over
A hundred times over words have flowed through my fingers to the keys
A hundred times over I have released the freedom that is in my mind,
A hundred times over I have become one with my inter most longing,
A hundred times over I have taken a journey to show you my own world.
A hundred times over I have written of pain and life, of sorrow and joy,
A hundred times over I have used my art to show you what's in my mind
A hundred times over again I will show you.
A hundred times over I have cried for those, whose names are untold,
A hundred times over I have showed you their pain.
A hundred times over I have become their connection to you,
A hundred times over I have showed you the beauty of our world,
A hundred times over I have taken you somewhere you may never see,
A hundred times over my words have screamed the horror of darkness,
A hundred times over I have sung to you the beauty of light,
A hundred times over I have taken your hand to lead you to a new place
A hundred time over I have written for those who have no words to write
A hundred times over I have tried to show truth in a world of lies,
A hundred times over I have have tried to show the world's beauty,
A hundred times over again I will lead down these paths,
A hundred times over and over again I will show you reality,
A hundred times over and over again I shall show you my world,
A hundred times over and over again until you have memorised truth,
A hundred times over again until you can repeat what I have told,
A hundred times over again shall I create an art of words, time, of life.
A hundred times over again I shall do this,
A hundred times over again.
A hundred times over.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Perfect Harmony
In a world so far away
At the end of a closing day
A little child was born and raised
Deep in the forest on a hidden place
Mother never saw his face
Ancient spirits of the forest
Made him king of elves and trees
He was the only human being
Who lived in harmony
In perfect harmony
The woods protected, fulfillled his needs
Fruit by birds, honey by bees
He found shelter under trees
He grew up in their company
They became his family
A thousand seasons
They passed him by
So many times, have said goodbye
And when the spirits called out his name
To join forever, forever to stay
A forest spirit he became
song performed by by Within Temptation
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Perfect Harmony
In a world so far away
At the end of a closing day
A little child was born and raised
Deep in the forest on a hidden place
Mother never saw his face
Ancient spirits of the forest
Made him king of elves and trees
He was the only human being
Who lived in harmony
In perfect harmony
The woods protected, fulfillled his needs
Fruit by birds, honey by bees
He found shelter under trees
He grew up in their company
They became his family
A thousand seasons
They passed him by
So many times, have said goodbye
And when the spirits called out his name
To join forever, forever to stay
A forest spirit he became
song performed by by Within Temptation
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Have I To Fear?
if death be but a step,
a flower fallen with silent shouts...
a kiss blown by wind but never lost,
a friend who tends the grave.
a hymn, a prayer, kind words spoken,
a drink at a corner table.
a book placed back on the shelf,
a child's drawing done in crayon.
a door closed, left unlocked,
cattle left in the pasture all night.
an empty bowel, a candle burned down,
a sparrow sitting outside the window.
a shovel of dirt, a broken glass,
boots left in the corner.
the dog's leg cocked,
the fire burned down....
the still darkness waiting on dawn.
the river overflowed,
the cage door opened...
then what have i to fear?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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A Happening Within
there is something in us that grows
into a complication,
the sophistication of the labyrinths that
we create in every word and line,
it used to be just a simple house with
one door without walls and ceiling
a theater for the dance of the wind
and the fireflies & perhaps
one window and a little patio to appease the senses
of simplicity
dressed like a rag doll
but it can't be prevented
as time grows more hands and feet and even wings
and horns
many subways are built
secret chambers
foxholes and slaughter houses
or tea tables
restricted areas and hidden homes
and buried cemeteries
and lost treasures
that will never be found
perhaps that is our nature
and also the nature of our poetry
there is a room where we make love
and there is only one person there
name not revealed
no one has a hint
there is a kitchen where no cooking is done
for fear of smoke and fire
where firewood is taboo and where cigarette speaks
a language of puffs
like Indian warriors communicating to
themselves
in the smoke of their palms
i, myself, create signs
that are designed more to confuse
than to
make bridges
the rivers are happier
and the clouds celebrate the success of
the floating
i am into this again
this chasm between two selves
split carrot stick
that falling that is endless
that bliss that is as silent as the star at night
when you are alone
and missing no
one.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ego Trip
With A Guilt Ridden Frown Hidden Smiling Deep Down
Laughing At The Crowd Nauseating Sound As The Blind
Lead The Blind On A Crusade For Sight Corralled In The Corner
This Leash Is Too Tight I Can't Keep Up This Act
Please Expand The Role Choking On Dialogue
You've All Heard Before With A Guilt Ridden Frown Hidden Smiling
Deep Down Dying Inside Paint A Smile On This Clown
Tainted Face Jaded By Disgrace Regurgitate Your Faith
Fornicate Your Mind All That Hides Inside Roll Around
song performed by by Mushroomhead from Mushroomhead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stillness Wrapped, Unwrapped!
stillness wrapped...
layers and layers of sound,
sound defined by color, sweat,
stink, breath, and desire...
i walk the great plains of night,
the hunter, and the hunted.
i kneel in the shadow of a star,
giving praise to the Great Mother!
i am wings of bat,
the eyes of the great owl.
i am wolf urine on the grasses.
i am bark and bay and howl.
i am the flute of the whipporwill,
the shallow breathing of the mountain aroused.
the small black boy in Mississippi past,
staring hard at the walls of angry cant.
i am the political prisoner,
the religious heretic.
i am the murderer repentent,
the one who kills him.
i am the quiet drunk
alone at the corner table.
the book hidden in in coat
that cant stop the bullet.
i am the old woman hungry
for a lovers touch...
i am the touch, the memory,
the coming and breaking.
i am the prodigal, the refugee,
the starving girl who gives
her last piece of bread
to her younger brother.
i am the stray dog, the abandoned house,
the fire, and the homeless man who died.
i am the grave, the gravedigger,
the preacher, and the epitaph....
i am nothing now....
but stillness unwarpped by time...
sound, color, sweat, stink,
breath, and desire....
ashes, and unplowed earth!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Liberty
We met as two total strangers
As many lovers often do
But who could have ever seen the danger
I didnt know Id fall in love with you
You are this lonely pickers daydream
Like a wish thats wishing to come true
So liberty just know Im waiting
To share this love song with you
Chorus
But do you think about me when youre lying in his bed
Wont you take the time to explain
Do you ever think youd rather be with me instead
Or do you only think about me when it rains
We shared some special nights together
We said wed watch the morning rise
But when the sun was all around us
Wasnt nothing I hadnt seen in your eyes
I try so hard to keep it hidden
But I am hurting deep inside
For every time Ive seen you smile
There are two times that I have cried
Chorus
Now and forever my love will be the same
I will be waiting underneath the pouring rain.
song performed by by Vertical Horizon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Harps We Love
The harp we love hath a royal burst!
Its strings are mighty forest trees;
And branches, swaying to and fro,
Are fingers sounding symphonies.
The harp we love hath a solemn sound!
And rocks amongst the shallow seas
Are strings from which the rolling waves
Draw forth their stirring harmonies.
The harp we love hath a low sweet voice!
Its strings are in the bosom deep,
And Love will press those hidden chords
When all the baser passions sleep.
poem by Henry Kendall
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Temple Of Everlasting Light
Will I ever see the pleasure that will never end
Hidden in the misty forest that desire send
Mesmerised likde fireflies falling through a flame
If I wait Ill be too late to holler out yourename
If I wait another day to travel to the ease
Time may prey upon me
Dance upon me with its feet
Hidden in the temple they are building the sun
Hidden in the forest
Hidden figure with a gun
I have waited to be here
Now I feel you near - take me home
song performed by by Kula Shaker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spirit Revealed (Number Two)
in every touch almost in passing,
every word spoken without thought.
in every thought that no one can see,
in every darkened corner.
in every sign held up in protest.
in every picket line that
shuts down traffic.
in every stolen car,
every empty house broke into.
in the bag of groceries that will not last.
in the gun put down,
in honest revelations.
in the prayer prayed beneath the bridge,
in the pair of boots worn and wise.
in the job walked away from,
in every stranger helped.
in the fugitive hidden,
and in the hiding place!
in every family on the road,
lifetimes piled inside old cars.
in graveyards swept by silence,
in every piece of wood cut and stacked.
in the rising swell,
and in the dying moan.
in the murmur of freedom,
spilling over the edges.
in the earth tainted by blood,
and in the orphan rose.
in the song of the mockingbird,
in the sunset,
and the untended fire.
spirit revealed...
tongues on hearts.
broken fingers, broken feet,
eyes walking as if the wind!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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