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old car packed up high,
mattress tied down on the roof...
windows bare, empty.

haiku by Eric Cockrell
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Christmas Eve

dawn creeping
o'er the mountains,
and through bare limbed trees....

Christmas Eve...
amid the hustle and bustle,
colored lights and wrapping paper....

families and friends....
the streets still alive with those
who have nowhere else to be....

empty houses, empty trailers,
stray dogs and abandoned cars....
somewhere church bells are ringing.

a baby born in a bare apartment,
the rats scurry to meet him,
the pot on the stove empty.

no curtains on the windows,
bare bulbs, no shades.
no angels, no wise men,

an eviction notice on the door...
yet another baby Jesus,
will he make it, will he die?

will he bring light and salvation?
or will they find his small body
in a dumpster with the trash?

fate, or understanding,
holiness knocks on the door,
again, and again!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bare Windows

I look at the world
Through bare windows,
And see it all --
Bright sunlight,
Deep shadows,
Birds in flight,

Bare dead trees,
Thick tangled vines
That whisper in the breeze.

Fox hunts the mouse.
Snake slithers by
Shedding his dry skin house.
I look at the world
Through bare windows,
And I love it all.

poem by M. Elizabeth Barrett Doyle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Growing Up In the Projects

You want to know what it's like,
To grow up in the projects?
Being different and taking risks?

'Can't be that bad! '

Follow me.

'Where are we going? '

Up to the roof.

'To the roof? '

Yeah.
I want to show you something from my point of view.
Now...
Turnaround.
Put your hands behind your back.

'Why? '

I'm going to tie your hands behind your back.
Then I'm going to blindfold you before I leave you alone.

'But...
I might fall off the roof.
Aren't you concerned about that? '

You'll learn to adjust.
If you want to survive.
And...
If you can not get up from a fall?
Maybe you were too blind not to pay attention.
Some steps some folks shouldn't take.
Listening and observation is key.
Common sense is precious.

You be surprise how many lessons one learns,
Growing up in the projects.

'But my hands are tied.
And I can't see.'

I use to hear that all the time!
~Boy! Can't you see my hands are tied?
I can't see where the next dime is coming from.
And all I get from you is lip! ~

Note:
Not too many folks I knew who grew up
in the projects became victims from the experience.
In fact, most of the folks became very successful people.
But...that was a time when expectations were high.
And many years ago when folks chose to have 'some' identity
and dignity connected to the 'self' and a growth process.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Nowhere Lane

we are...
the ink barely dried
on the page,
the cup chipped
on the windowsill.
wood stacked against
the porch,
the shadows on the
empty swing.
the kiss lost,
and the ring.
red dirt dried
on the shovel,
the old boots left
by the door.
the creaking of the
screen door opening,
the box tied and
packed away.
hunger sap dried
on novel sheets,
the half smoked cigarette
lying in the ashtray.
the sound of the empty room,
in that old house on nowhere lane!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Openness In Prayer

the walls of the
house are thick
and high
the windows are
closed
and so are the
doors
the roof is taken
away
for you to see
the sky the stars

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wistfully Watching

They explore the world
through windows,
church windows,
school windows,
two up, two down windows,
castle windows,
large windows,
small windows.

They see it all,
from blameless to guilty,
from noble to treacherous,
through windows.
From skyscraper windows,
to basement flat windows,
from paupers windows,
and palace windows

they watch, absorb, suck it in.

Later when they have grown
they will remember,
try to empathise,
rationalise
decipher the coded metaphors,
but some day
they will be demoralised
by the windows of life.

There they sit __ wistfully watching __
the children

of our times.

poem by Ruth Walters
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Window

Ten windows light the horizon, this world,
Once the atmosphere escapes into the unknown.
Hearing grapes and cherries of the sky
We glide to the sea’s mystery, throwing harmony.
This land is made of woes of time, honoured by workers
That spend alcohol, sweet and secret, in their wilful calm.
My windows are focussed on my bedroom mat,
Where leaving is committed, a little sound collapses.
The mattress seems heavy with laughter of last-night’s
Dreaming, escalading, jumping, and forcing.
Let the windows of this tree of life
Be shone with direct sunlight!

poem by Naveed Akram
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Fit To Be Tied

What a problem, you know he's fit to be tied
He tried to solve it, that was his only crime
Well, I ain't got no inhibitions
And my daddy gets left, alright
The time for him to make the decision
If this is still the place, I'm gonna spend the night
He says, "get out, your no son of mine"
What a problem, you know he's fit to be tied
You don't understand, he thinks he's always right
He says, your lust is the toy of confliction
And you think you got fun all the time
In school, you ain't got no direction
He thinks I'm just a kid that ain't got no mind
I say, "no way are you gonna run my life"
What a problem, you know he's fit to be tied
On my way, he pushed me over the line
What a problem, I'm only one of a kind
He says, "get out, your no son of mine"
I say, "no way are you gonna run my life"
Packed my bags, won't even say good-bye
I'll show you a thing or two, you know I've got my pride
What a problem, you know he's fit to be tied

song performed by by Quiet Riot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Leaking Roof

it is raining and here i am stuck
under the roof of a deserted house
the windows are open
nobody has come to close four windows
looking to the street like an insomniac,
the door is creaky like a sore throat
sounding like an incurable allergic sneeze
the crazy wind bangs it from time to time
and i do not mind the routine of noise
for a while a walk to and fro
like i am making a picket
observing the details of how a deserted house
can look like
or feel like: there seems to be a growling silence
abbreviating itself like a scream
cut short by my hands kept inside my pocket
i look up and see the leaking roof
making a rhythm of the dripping beat
of this poem.

i have nothing in mind, i am empty
and emptying still. I take in so much quantity
of silence, the weight of thoughts,
the silly purposeless probe
of what i am suppose to be and where i must be going
after this temporariness of loafing.

The rain stops. I am leaving.
The rhythm ceases.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Satisfied

This summer time I have no fury
No chance of sinking sailing ships
If time stood still Id take aim and fire
For you
For every ocean there must be shore
On which I stand with restless toes
When everything I look for in myself is in you
I feel a little more than empty
But I wanna feel more than full
Its a pity all I have
Is just enough to keep you satisfied
This knot can come undone no matter how we try to keep it tied
Inside this bottle theres a message
You may be drinking way too much
If I had the strength to take the weight of you I would
I feel a little more than empty
But I wanna feel more than full
Its a pity all I have
Is just enough to keep you satisfied
This knot can come undone no matter how we try to keep it tide
Something high it keeps me here
Something that keeps us together
You keep me dry despite the weather
I dont need to feel this way
For you but I do end up feel satisfied
Its a pity all I have
Is just enough to keep you satisfied
This knot can come undone no matter how we try to keep it tied
Its a pity all I have
It just enough to keep you satisfied
This knot can come undone no matter how we try to keep it tide
Its a pity all I have
Is just enough to keep you satisfied
This knot can come undone no matter how we try to keep it tied

song performed by by Natalie Imbruglia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lost In Eternity!

long shadows cast,
the corner now empty.
the bare branch scrapes
against the window
of the house left vacant.

the desk left cluttered,
as if in waiting.
the candle half burned,
naked without fire.
the woodstove cold as ice.

the gravel drive now virgin,
the mailbox rusted shut.
the yard oozes like an open wound,
in the womb of stillness.
nothing moves, nothing at all!

another world?
maybe it never was!
the rope tied in a noose,
the noose around empty.
the hoot of an owl...

lost in eternity!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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On The Roof Again (Callout Hook 1)

In the throws of young love Leroy
Didn't think to think and in the blink of an eye
Tied the knot not knowing how to not know
He was the prodigal son this girl had brought him home
He moved out of his step dad's apartment
He moved in with this cute Guatemalan
Things were copasetic 'til she caught him
Things were cool and collected 'til she found him erected with another
Shit went bad he's on the roof again
She flipped, he flipped the bird
And then he went to the roof where his threats ring loud and clear
Gonna jump gonna jump gonna die this year
Got screwed by the horse that he rode in on
Riding high on his whims had only gotten him down
He moved back to his step dad's apartment
Where he put himself back together 'til
She came back he's on the roof again
She flipped, he flipped the bird
And then he went to the roof where his threats ring loud and clear
Gonna jump gonna jump gonna die this year
Your heinous highness broke her hymen hey man try to quit your crying
I know she broke your heart but try to come try to come down
Shit went bad he's on the roof again
She flipped, he flipped the bird
And then he went to the roof where his threats ring loud and clear
Gonna jump gonna jump gonna die this year

song performed by by Eve 6
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wanderlust by Tita Lacambra Ayala,1998

A formal form-
lessness
provinces of thought
denied due process
lines tied up in knots
recurring in dawn's wet trees

somehow also
landscapes are empty
full of water yesterday's
footprints the clouds
in them

how can you believe
you are not found
having lost footing
to the elements
splintered
everywhere you look

and you must hold
your breath
and keep away
from cloistered ravines

it will be raining when you
get home
there will be lights
in the windows

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dreams of a Silver Dragon

Azure skies and my silver dragon
I daub its chrome underbelly
As it prepares for flight
Oil and water never mixing
Swirling
Globules

I fear the myriad pink mattresses
Disposal by adults
And children alike
Mattress after mattress piled high
All pink
Almost touching the sky

Where my dragon waits to teach me
Things I never contemplated
A world within me undiscovered
His scales are scars that stood the test of time

All the children smile to see him fly
All the children smile knowing he will never die

poem by Ally Cooper
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Since You Took Her Away

Sitting in the church,
where we used to pray to God.
I look around at the empty pews
and wonder where you are.
Are you in the cradle of the Lord?
After leaving suddenly yesterday,
when he took you to his bosom,
didn’t he realise what he did to me?
The heartache that I’ve felt
since you went away.
Our home is so empty without you there.
Every room seems vacant and bare.
Oh, Lord please help me,
bare up to her loss.
I need your steadying hand
to guide me on my way.
I don’t know what I’m going to do.
Since you took her away yesterday.

poem by David Harris
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Turning The Heat To Hotter

Nobody came to party knew somebody who sat,
In a corner to sigh.
This was a heat to hotter party.

Nobody came to party knew somebody who sat,
In a corner to sigh.
This was a heat to hotter party.

Everybody here took off the roof to cry,
'High, high, high...high.'
With their hands up,
'High, high, high...high.'
And sweating bodies soakin'.
'High, high, high...high.'

Everybody on the scene holla'd and screamed...
'High, high, high...high.'
With their hands up,
'High, high, high...high.'

Nobody came to this party knew somebody who sat.
This was a heat to hotter party.

Everybody here took off the roof to cry,
'High, high, high...high.'
With their hands up,
'High, high, high...high.'
And sweating bodies soakin'.
'High, high, high...high.'
Turning the heat to hotter.
'High, high, high...high.'
Turning the heat to hotter.
'High, high, high...high.'
Turning the heat to hotter.
'High, high, high...high.'

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Warehouse

See Im leaving
This warehouse frightens me
Has me tied up in knots
Cant rest for a moment
Soom Im going Im slippin slow away
Hoping to find something better than
Ive got inside of here
The warehouse slips away
Hey reckless mind
Dont throw away your playful beginning
You and I will fumble around in the touches
And be sure to
Leave all the lights on
So we can see the black cat changing colors
And we can walk under the ladders
And swim as the tide turns you around and around
Hey we have found
Becoming one in a million
Slip into the crowd
This question if found in a gap in the sidewalk
Keep al lyour sights on
He the black cat changing colors
And you can walk under ladders
And swim as the tide choose to turn you
And here is it
Life goes on, end of tunnel, tv set
Spot in the middle
State fade, statistical bit
And soon Ill fade away, Ill fade away
This I admit
Taste so good, hard to believe an end to it
Smell touch feel
How could this rhythm ever quit
Bags packed on a plane
Hopefully to heaven
Shut up Im thinking
I had a clue now its gone forever
Sitting over these bones
You can read in whatever youre needing to
Keep all your sights on
Yeah man, the black cat
Changing colors
When its not the colors that matter
But that theyll all fade away
This I admit
Seems so good
Hard to believe an end to it
Warehouse is bare
Nothing at all inside of it
Walls and halls have disappeared
My love I love to stay here
My love I love to stay here
In a corner was wondering
If a change could be better than this
And then I worry
Maybe things wont be better than they have been
Here in the warehouse
At the warehouse
How I love to stay here
At the warehouse
Every man and woman
Get alive
Thats our blood down there
Seems poured from the hands of angels
But trickle into the ground
Leaves the warehouse bare and empty
My hearts numbered beat
Still echoe in this empty room
Fear wells in me
But nothing seems enough to defend
So I am going away

song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sleep with the lights on..............

Her first room had bare walls,
pale blue, and a built in wardrobe.
The single bed was
pushed against a wall,
and the blankets were coarse.

Her first room was cold and sterile,
offering no charm, no comfort.
It was but a box, austere,
yet practical, it offered
nothing.

Thinking back,
maybe it was that room,
the starkness,
its high, plain windows,
its bare, tiled floor.

These days it's locked,
except for her night chills,
the way her stomach fell
in the mornings
as the cock crowed.

Her first room lies
belly up on the page….
Here, take it,
make of it what you will,
sleep with the lights on...if you have to.

poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Grieve

It was only one hour ago
It was all so different then
Theres nothing yet has really sunk in
Looks like it always did
This flesh and bone
Its just the way that you would tied in
Now theres no-one home
I grieve for you
You leave me
so hard to move on
Still loving whats gone
They say life carries on
Carries on and on and on and on
The news that truly shocks is the empty empty page
While the final rattle rocks its empty empty cage
And I cant handle this
I grieve for you
You leave me
Let it out and move on
Missing whats gone
They say life carries on
They say life carries on and on and on
Life carries on
In the people I meet
In everyone thats out on the street
In all the dogs and cats
In the flies and rats
In the rot and the rust
In the ashes and the dust
Life carries on and on and on and on
Life carries on and on and on
Its just the car that we ride in
A home we reside in
The face that we hide in
The way we are tied in
And life carries on and on and on and on
Life carries on and on and on
Did I dream this belief?
Or did I believe this dream?
Now I can find relief
I grieve

song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fogging Up The Windows

the sound of a small child crying
hungry in the night
of a young woman sleepless
waiting for daylight
the sound of church bells ringing
not too far away
the sound of an old man dying
remembering how to pray

the sound of two hearts breaking
a thousand miles apart
of the last tear a fallin'
unseen in the dark
the sound of lifetimes wasted
of a love that didnt last
the sound of memories forgotten
of a time already past

can you hear?
can you hear?
a lone tree a fallin'
a hoot owl callin'

life and death, a lover's breath
fogging up the windows
of an empty room...
fogging up the windows
of an empty room...

the sound of the nails driven
into His screaming hands
the sound of salvation
entrusted to a man
the sound of bodies falling
of buildings swept by flame
the sound of different voices
whose souls are the same

can you hear?
can you hear?
a lone tree a fallin'
a hoot owl callin'

life and death, a lover's breath
fogging up the windows
of an empty room...
fogging up the windows
of an empty room....

poem by Eric Cockrell
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