En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Resurrection Of A Sparrow

Magdelene's hot tears,
-human desire unleashed-
fell like agony rain
onto the bound corpse
of flesh made holy.

the stone rolled away...
a sparrow flew
towards light beyond conception.

and all of mankind,
-mouths agape-
stood silent by love's fire,
shuffling their feet,
counting victories by bodies!

while history itself,
-began anew-
yet no one heard
the shout of silence...
except for the tears

of male benediction's common whore,
and a bird without a name!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Magdelene Poems

magdelene

be it so...
they would name
the holy one's lover
a whore...
and so give her a cross
to be borne for generations!

magdelene, # 2

what secrets we shared,
in the breathless moments
just before dawn...
while creation and destruction waited,
and the stars themselves wept,
as if knowing!

magdelene, # 3

perhaps then,
the final price of the gospel,
be not nails...
but love!

magdelene, # 4

twas the book of kisses,
rare intimacies unspoken,
that lingered like very breath...
on graveclothes left empty.

upon the stone rolled away,
the lovers' cross etched,
by hands unseen,
and somehow more than human!

magdelene, # 5

those tiny footprints
on the sands of eternity...
are those of a child,
who never met her father

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Rain Tears

Rain, tears, rain, tears,
Melding in torrential fears:
Chill of cloud; saddened eye-
In either way, a latent cry.

Rain, tears, rain, tears,
Married under sceptic jeers:
‘They'll never last.' Methinks not true, for
Either way, forever blue.

Rain, tears, rain, tears,
Simple love with lacy cares,
Their intercourse will ne'er refrain
From rain and tears and tears and rain.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010

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: tears: : rain tears: : rain tears: : rain tears: : rain tears
n: : tears: : rain tears: : rain tears: : rain tears: : rain tears

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Fable of the Mermaid and the Drunks

All those men were there inside,
when she came in totally naked.
They had been drinking: they began to spit.
Newly come from the river, she knew nothing.
She was a mermaid who had lost her way.
The insults flowed down her gleaming flesh.
Obscenities drowned her golden breasts.
Not knowing tears, she did not weep tears.
Not knowing clothes, she did not have clothes.
They blackened her with burnt corks and cigarette stubs,
and rolled around laughing on the tavern floor.
She did not speak because she had no speech.
Her eyes were the colour of distant love,
her twin arms were made of white topaz.
Her lips moved, silent, in a coral light,
and suddenly she went out by that door.
Entering the river she was cleaned,
shining like a white stone in the rain,
and without looking back she swam again
swam towards emptiness, swam towards death.

poem by Pablo Neruda
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Fable Of The Mermaid And The Drunks

All those men were there inside,
when she came in totally naked.
They had been drinking: they began to spit.
Newly come from the river, she knew nothing.
She was a mermaid who had lost her way.
The insults flowed down her gleaming flesh.
Obscenities drowned her golden breasts.
Not knowing tears, she did not weep tears.
Not knowing clothes, she did not have clothes.
They blackened her with burnt corks and cigarette stubs,
and rolled around laughing on the tavern floor.
She did not speak because she had no speech.
Her eyes were the color of distant love,
her twin arms were made of white topaz.
Her lips moved, silent, in a coral light,
and suddenly she went out by that door.
Entering the river she was cleaned,
shining like a white stone in the rain,
and without looking back she swam again
swam towards emptiness, swam towards death.

poem by Pablo Neruda from Return of the Mermaid (Regresó la sirena) (1954)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Silent Cry

Like an injured bird I flew,
Towards endless horizon,
With tattered wings,
And a broken heart.

Through stormy cold dark clouds I flew,
Fiery lightning and thunder loud,
Silent tears fell with the rain drops,
But none will hear my heart cried.

poem by Desert Life
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Only The Crippled

only the crippled go to war...
the bird afraid of the sky
tears flesh with his beak.
the moral ones wearing
clothes of black and white,
whose religion is their ego,
whose god made of stone.
hands made of me and mine,
feet whose eyes gone blind...
to the drumbeat of take and destroy,
terrified of what lies within.
but freedom never fired a gun,
and justice never waived a flag.
peace never won by blood and bodies,
and the spirit has no religion!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Infidel!

i am the one
who walked with the Nazarene...
who stood in silence,
listening and watching.
i distributed the food
that fed the crowds,
i helped the sick
make their way to Him...
i stood defiant as He
cleaned out the temple.
i helped move the stone
from the grave of Lazarus...
i shuddered among the lepers,
put down my stone
as He let the whore go...
bailed water in the boat
till He calmed the seas...
i heard His last prayer
at Gethsemene...
saw and felt the tears of blood...
more than anything i wanted Him
to be more, to do more,
maybe i just wanted to be Him!
i am Judas, the infidel...
i am you, you are me!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Misty Rain

Today I stand here all alone in the Misty Rain
Contemplating where it is I went wrong again
And as I stand here all alone I realize on my own
Tears that fall aren't hidden at all in the Misty Rain

I could not help as your memories flooded in on me
So overwhelmed and alone with this pain
As I stood alone and the rain came down on me
Tears that fall aren't hidden at all in the Misty Rain

The Misty Rain doesn't care at all of my heart
It doesn't care at all my world is torn apart
But one would think while I am standing in the rain
Somehow it would hide the tears when they came

And as I stood alone I thought of you
I just can't help myself I'm still in love with you
To stop loving you I know I never will
Although I try to fight It is so against my will

And as I stood alone the memories came again
And in the rain again I suffered again the pain
And as the tears they fell I too realized
Tears that fall aren't hidden at all in the Misty Rain.

poem by Bill Simmons
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Under The Blue Skies...

Under the blue skies of her native land
She languished and began to fade...
Until surely there flew without a sound
Above me, her young shade;

But there stretches between us an uncrossable line.
In vain my feelings I tried to awaken.
The lips that brought the news were made of stone,
And I listened like a stone, unshaken.

So this is she for whom my soul once burned
In the tense and heavy fire,
Obsessed, exhausted, driven out of my mind
By tenderness and desire!

Where are the torments? Where is love? Alas!
For the unreturning days'
Sweet memory, and for the poor credulous
Shade, I find no lament, no tears.

poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
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Neil Armstrong

I was walking on the beach in a silent night
saw the Moon was crying
a tear dropp fell on my hand
like a ball of lead.
I became a sparrow bird
and flew in the sky and reached the Moon.
I said how I loved her so much and she is my only hope.
Then she laughed and told
' You are a small creature and my love is to someone
who gives light equally to all and I run after him forever
Yet, I cannot meet, I am surprised how you came to me
like an arrow
My son, if it's possible in the same way you fly to the Sun
and tell still I love him'

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Silent Acceptance

He sat as silent as a stone
and surveyed the scene.
It made him very angry
and his envy turned him green.

He labored with his thoughts
and he found no peace.
His unclear thinking
would bring him no release.

Why had the world abused him
and left him without hope?
His silence just enveloped the air
and he found it hard to cope.

Then appeared a little bird
and praised that air with song.
The silence now was broken.
Things didn't seem so wrong.

He sat as silent as a stone
and heard that bird just sing.
It took away his anger,
amazed that it could bring
acceptance.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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Human

Come on, baby, dry your eyes
Wipe your tears
Never like to see you cry
Wont you please forgive me ?
I wouldnt ever try to hurt you
I just needed someone to hold me
To fill the void while you were gone
To fill this space of emptiness
Im only human
Of flesh and blood Im made
Human
Born to make mistakes
So many nights I longed to hold you
So many times I looked and saw your face
Nothing could change the way I feel
No-one else could ever take your place
Im only human
Of flesh and blood Im made
Human
Born to make mistakes
I am just a man
Please forgive me
The tears I cry arent tears of pain
Theyre only to hide my guilt and shame
I forgive you now I ask the same of you
While we were apart I was human too
Im only human
Of flesh and blood Im made
I am just a man
Human
Born to make mistakes

song performed by by Human League
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Stink

the stink...
human excrement,
starving mouths,
skeleton bodies...
breath short and aching.
blood on the hands,
violent scars that tremble,
in the darkest night,
burning out of control.
hatred fear,
that drives and shatters.
the grip on the cup,
broken, and shaking.
hot love molten,
howl, and moan...
the stars in the sky,
falling like hot knives!
silent prayers,
tongues ripped from mouths,
that move like fish,
praying to the water.
feet walking through mud,
hands covered in ashes.
human hearts beating,
souls rotting with desire!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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We Have Been Silent

we have been to silent and they
think we are but a pair of sad stories
always being told at bedtime

i do not like this silence. Deadening
my ears have become caves
for bats (who cares? i care now
i want to see the world with all its noise
and troubles)

why? (common let us make all the noise
we can muster, let us shout, scream,
jump, stamp our feet, hit the walls with
our fists, and run wild into the forest,
splash our bodies to the rivers
of time..

why? oh why?
(simple. so we can forget our own
miseries, these silent murderers
shooting us
for nothing.)

let us not be too silent.
are we not mistaken by them as
dead?

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Vain Wits and Eyes

VAIN wits and eyes
Leave, and be wise :
Abuse not, shun not holy fire,
But with true tears wash off your mire.
Tears and these flames will soon grow kind,
And mix an eye-salve for the blind.
Tears cleanse and supple without fail,
And fire will purge your callous veil,
Then comes the light ! which when you spy,
And see your nakedness thereby,
Praise Him, Who dealt His gifts so free
In tears to you, in fire to me.

poem by Henry Vaughan
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The Sun Bird

The sun bird flew high and high
for its destination was sun
but as it drew near its wings did burn
from the heat of the sun but it did not die
it fell down on the earth
and waited till its wings took rebirth
it again flew only to burn its wings and fall
towards the earth but its hope stood atall
for mythology says its divine love for sun
has given it power not to die from burn
so with patience infinite again it flew
with hopes full and wings anew
towards the sun only to burn
but it got up again and flew
towards the sun
towards its destination

poem by Anjesh shekhar
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An Angel

An Angel…Or?
I knew as soon s she came in she was from
a place I hadn’t been… before. She was silent.
sat down and began some embroidery work,
a silk dress for a delightful nuptial.
By the entrance to a house we stood kissing,
the door was black as the entrance to hell,
and the ground was white as snow…her eyes
bottomless green, flickered in desire.
Search light, we had been caught in the glare
unbecoming lust, and ran to a bus shelter.
Silent rain like tears, knew I had to run away,
she wanted me to take the lift heavenward.
The elevator out of order, and her face was
lost in a miasma of the unremembered.

poem by Oskar Hansen
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Silvertongue

He came down from the mountainside,
His beard was white, his hair was grey,
He brought his retinue of priests
All buckled in a warlike way.
They strode into the village square
And said: 'Now listen, everyone,
Just gather round, pay heed to him,
He's come to warn you - Silvertongue! '

His brow was cold, his face was grim
And we were silent in his stare,
We didn't make a single sound,
Stood hushed within the village square.
His priests were stood with weapons drawn,
Their swords and helmets bore a spire,
And on their breasts, the holy sign.
The symbol of St. Elmo's Fire.

'I am the Word you must obey, '
He said, in tones that chilled the soul,
'I come with tales of history,
Of those who chose the Devil's mould.
They brought the wrath of God to bear
On humankind, he gave his seal,
The one commandment you must share;
Man never must invent the wheel! '

At that, the clouds of purple gold
With lightning lit the mountainside,
As if the Lord above had heard,
Approved the Word, and then had smiled.
The rain that glowed began to fall
And lit the corn out in the field,
It glowed there in the darkening light,
It sparked blue flashes in his beard.

'In days of old, ' he said, 'they made
A pact with him who mocked the rod,
He showed them how to make the wheel,
They used it then, in spite of God,
Their lives revolved on wheels in wheels
That ground their flour, that rolled down hills,
That made their own fake lightning power,
That drove their water driven mills.'

'As they grew mighty, God despaired,
They built great towers in the sky,
Machines that flew them in the air
The Devil's transport, by and by,
And then the tribes had gone to war
Their wheels bogged down in fields of mud,
They used the wheel to drive their trains
Of slaughter through vast fields of blood.'

'The end came suddenly, they say,
When men designed a thousand suns,
They lit the earth as bright as day,
Each sun roared like a million guns.
The seas reared up and swamped the shore,
The cities burned, the people died,
Their wheels lay rotting to the core
With what was left of human pride! '

'So you must be just as the Ox
And bear your burden on your back,
No wheel shall light your daily task,
What you can't lift, then you must lack.
The man who first designs a wheel
Shall surely seek his own reward,
To hang upon the willow tree,
His wife and child put to the sword! '

He left us then, with all his priests,
I heard they wandered near and far,
They fought with all the mutant beasts
Out on the fringe, where land was scarred.
But neighbors whispered each to each
The words that they had heard that day:
'What is this wheel he spoke about?
Could life be made less harsh that way? '

For months we sweated with the ox
That dragged the plough that we would guide,
Our furrows slowly curved their way
Like ripples through the countryside.
My neighbor baulked at all the strain
Of ploughing slow, and bleeding hands,
'God rot the man! ' I heard him say,
'I shall not do what he commands! '

He took his sons and went to ride
Out where the land was burned and black,
They took their arrows, and their pride
And sought the priest, no turning back!
The clouds rolled in all purple gold
Down from the heights, I stayed inside,
The rain that burned the flesh came down,
I heard that Silvertongue had died.

My neighbor came back home once more
I saw him proudly plough his fields
His plough rolled free, not like before,
It raced past mine, through clods and weeds.
I looked more closely as it passed,
And saw some strange thing that he'd done,
The plough rolled freely underneath,
Upon the skull of Silvertongue!

4 November 2009

poem by David Lewis Paget
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Tears of Joy!

Tears of Joy!

Tears of joy I will cry for you, let my love flow eyes for all to see!
Tears of joy I will be your happiness, I will be there to erase them for you!
Tears of joy, I will be for you, through good and bad times we share!
Tears of joy I will be your shining light forever you're my burning desire!
Tears of joy I will kiss my beautiful angels face, never to let go!
Tears of joy I will hold your hand, and we will make a solid stand!
Tears of joy I will walk beside you never to be alone my dear!

poem by Sharon Kubeck
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Scars (On The Face)

ecstasy...
the window broken
by moonlight.
the bastard star,
that licks the wound.
the fire that burns flesh,
and opens the casket.
the hammer
that breaks the shell.
love sap spilled
on a forbidden book.
the history of mankind,
written in charcoal.
the tears of the prisoner,
set free, drunk on freedom.
the garlic lips,
that tempt the hunger.
the hunger's howl,
and the silence of the wolf.
the lover's tongue
on the beating heart.
smoke rising from the fire...
scars on the face of the wind!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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