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
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Related quotes
Boots
I found a pair of boots upon the street
So I took them home to wear on my feet
I washed them I cleaned them and I aired them out
So I could put them all later when I would walk about.
I put my new boots on, and I walked down the road
They seemed so very sturdy to carry my heavy load
Then they took me places where I have never been
I could tell that these boots were very well broken in.
They felt so very soft and comfortable upon my feet
How excited I was for my new boots others would see.
And when I did my walk many persons just stared
As they looked at my new boots but I really never cared.
Maybe they too just wanted boots just like mine
But this one thing I knew they were hard for me to find.
I had so much fun with my brand new pair of boots
We walked everywhere they placed me in a happy mood
And the longer that I walked still no pain did I feel
I was excited and content my life became so surreal.
So it started to get late so I decided to walk home
So that's were we head just me and my boots alone
And then when I took them off I placed them beside my bed
So I could be ready for my next journey or adventure ahead.
I wore those boots of mine for many, many years
They always felt so comfortable never brought me any tears
I would wash them and clean them and polish them too
Now they were always mine and they always looked brand new.
Then one day I wore another pair of shoes when I went out
I left my old boots home alone so they could air out
So myself and my new shows were gone most of the day
As I had errands to run and also many bills to pay.
But sadly when I got home I was taken by surprise
My boots were stolen and that brought tears to my eyes
I thought to myself who would steal those old boots of mine
Boots that have been worn and used who would commit that crime.
So I went out and bought so many different pairs of shoes
And none are that old as they are all seemingly brand new
I still go for my walks and I still go to town and all about
My feet are so much happier now I myself with joy wanna shout
But every now and then I think about those boots I once wore
The ones I found on the street and I never bought in the store
I wonder now if they are ragged and torn and beyond repair
But that's someone else problem now, so why would I care.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Fallen, Empty, And Broken
fallen soldier
fallen sky
fallen angel
from on high
fallen heartache
fallen soul
fallen man
losing control
empty bed
empty arms
empty dreams
empty heart
empty wallet
empty hands
cant take nothin'
from an empty man
broken promises
broken vows
broken spirit
wont allow
broken fences
broken lives
broken tomorrows
broken nights
fallen, empty, and broken
every road is the same
bent, bruised, and shaken
still numb from the pain
now you dont answer
when i call out your name
fallen, empty, and broken
walking in the rain...
fallen, empty, and broken...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Glass Rose
a glass rose
with broken edges,
sits alone on the table
in an empty room...
sunlight stolen
from crusted shades,
glints on the petals;
the raw edges shimmer,
almost to touch!
gathering dust,
frozen by time....
a glass rose....
almost to touch!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Gasping For Light
1
i built a fire in the yard.
slowly walked back into the house.
gathering everything of value.
my books, my clothes, my boots,
old photographs, letters, pictures,
everything i've ever written.
every memory.
took them outside,
and fed them to the fire!
and walked off barefoot
into the night.
2
lover, dance with me!
we call unto each other
from distances, through barriers,
breaking down walls of seperation;
through tears and angry silence,
echoing through the night.
i kiss your eyes, your lips,
the arch of your neck.
your fingertips, your feet,
the inside of your thighs.
your wetness.
you open your eyes,
and the shadow disappears!
3
spirits dance in the moonlight!
a soft wind rustles
through the trees.
the howl of a dog,
car lights on a forgotten road;
a screen door closes softly.
old house wrapped in stillness.
only a faint sound.
the footsteps of God
walking in your heart!
4
i can smell your perfume,
or maybe the scent of rain coming.
i can taste you in the
cool damp earth,
in the blood of a small animal
killed by a passing car,
in the cry of the baby
waking up hungry,
in the web of the spider.
in the hollow of my soul.
5
two moths lost in the darkness,
gasping for light.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Black Thunder
black thunder/ broken pieces, tired eyes.
church bells silent ringing, crow feet scarred pillows.
small children walking, without tongues praying,
wagon wheels bogged down in sand.
black thunder/ second hand lives, worn out lies.
dead soldiers mournful singing, borrowed tomorrows.
blind mouths moving, talking without saying,
unlit rooms forged by fugitive hands.
black thunder/ pregnant women without faces.
waves lapping orphan feet, ships lost in the storm.
refugee stars lost in unmarked skies,
an old tree dying rotting on the ground.
black thunder/ families disappearing without traces.
trash blown deserted streets, old men waiting to be born.
molded crucifixes, covered with flies,
clouds chant scriptures without a sound.
(guns silent weeping,
angels prayerful sweeping.
dreams born dying, dreams unfolding,
looking without seeing, touching without holding.)
black thunder/ hungry barefoot ghosts whisper.
priests covered in blood, empty windows open.
tiny infinities wrapped in colored matchsticks,
nowhere standing lost by the road.
black thunder/ brothers burying virgin sisters.
dialogue without talking, homeless heroes smoking.
ants' prophecies well hidden, time worn bricks,
strangers huddled against the cold.
black thunder/ salvation starved borrowed clothes.
smoke charred walls, forever dripping to the floor.
flesh tokens paid, lifetimes yet unforgiven,
candles dressed in cemetery suits.
black thunder/ nobody cares, nobody knows.
horses stomping stalls, doors open to doors.
while the dead barter for the living,
with bayonets and religious boots....
black thunder!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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A Man Like Me
Should you ever meet
A man like me
On a road or some busy street
With a back so scared
Head bent low
And eyes that have seen defeats
With a soul that fight the past
Where sorrow's play their broken harps
A living death, and all that's left
It this man with a broken heart
My family? Well? They've no right
To judge, or critize, nor even condemn
Because, sometimes their actions
Are just like them
Oh such careless steps, such thoughtless deeds
Oh how my misery starts
For I have faced, so much abuse
And that's what gave this broken heart
So humble, I think you could be
When I come passing by
For even the greatest...(God) ...
Was never so great
That He didn't stop to help and cry
I've tried not to lose my faith
I've held to love, all my life
Even when among all that strife
So even when sorrow throws, all those poison darts
Or when I've seen hope, all gone
I've walked alone and continued on
With broken heart
My family you've never walked in
this man shoes
Or seen the things, these eyes
have seen
Nor stood and watched with helpless hand
While the heart inside of you dies and stings
I never was a rich man, or master painter
Or had any words of art
Yet I still claim
I Love you same
Even with this broken heart
Life sometimes been so terribly cruel
There was a time I even prayed for death
There was a time of pain... when pain...
Was with every pain filled breath
So I say help that man, or friend
Or even your brother, along this road
It matters not... from where you start
For it was God...whom made you
To help that man, with a broken heart
poem by Clyde Bryson
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Walk The Path In Stillness
walking barefoot...
down alleys dark,
while children play
with garbage and broken glass.
past unlocked doors,
through buildings spent,
left for ghosts and tribal memories.
past walls charred by sweat and time,
left to smolder with empty ache....
to the time before the time before,
when living had a name.
under war torn skies,
over bodies strewn,
and left for birds of prey.
down dusty roads,
holding a child's dark hands,
in shadows anguished pain.
the skies aflame,
as if stars died, and every veil is rent.
to the sound of freedom's hungered drums,
and shadowed wings beating fury.
to the barren room,
the mattress on the floor,
frost upon the pane.
where lovers turned upon the spit,
with bodies made of water.
eyes wide open, living thrust,
tongues tracing maps to destiny.
the hardened cock,
buried in soul's wet lips,
while angels silently prayed.
and the candle burned
till the break of dawn,
and moonlight's final kiss...
the barren room of the empty house,
where eternity revealed!
the field once plowed
has now turned brown...
sparrows pick at the dust.
and scriptures written
in hickory rust,
whispers lost to sound!
battles fought, and flags laid down,
cover caskets that wait for dirt.
the little girl's shoe, the old washtub,
the broken pot beneath the window.
while dogs bark, and ants converse,
and hearts are covered with snow.
the faces of god fade into wood,
stacked and thrown into the fire.
be it dream, be it madness,
or the simple turning of the wheel...
the wind turns with a final kiss,
bare feet walk the path in stillness!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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leather boots, hands worn
dark shadows beneath tired eyes
house on fire, broken
haiku by Eric Cockrell
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One, Two, One... For You
the dust in the empty pockets
of the poor man,
walking home from work.
the plowed field just planted,
at the feet of sun and rain.
the simple house built by hand,
lifetimes written into the walls.
the last touch, the last kiss,
the moment never forgotten....
hearts wrapped in hearts,
live and die as one...
one set of footprints,
one name on the stone.
one set of wings,
one fire, one clap of thunder.
two words spoken, two empty vases.
one heart, one hawk flying,
two hands times two,
one dream!
two sparrows part,
one nest, and one tree!
two sides, two faces...
one memory!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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And I found my home
Walking on a LONELY road
All alone dark and cold
I thought it was the end for me
But I found my home
Hiding in the shadows of my pain
ANd every word spoken made me insane
I thought nothing else matterd
But I found my home
Always confused never on the right
Closing my eyes to everything in sight
I didn't wanna keep going
But I found my home
Keeping everything there was inside
All I ever wanted to do was hide
I thought this whole world was nothing
But I found my home
Just when I lost all hope
When everything shatterd and I couldn't cope
A family of angels healed my pain
And I found my home
poem by Jess Zapata
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A lonely road is that i walked
I walk a lonely road, the one and only one I' ve ever known.
I don't know where it goes, but I keep walking on and on.
I walked the lonely and un trodden road for I was walking on the bridge
of the broken dreams.
I don't know what the world is fighting for or why iam being insticated.
It's for this that I walk this lonely road for I wish to be
ALONE!
So Iam breaking up, breakin' up.
It is the lack of self control that I feared as there is something
Inside me that pulls the need to surface, consuming, confusing.
being called Weird I walk this lonely road for on the verge of broken dreams.
And so i walk this lonely road and so just keep walking still
poem by Pablo Picasso
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A Pair Of Brown Eyes
One summer evening drunk to hell
I stood there nearly lifeless
An old man in the corner sang
Where the water lilies grow
And on the jukebox johnny sang
About a thing called love
And its how are you kid and whats your name
And how would you bloody know?
In blood and death neath a screaming sky
I lay down on the ground
And the arms and legs of other men
Were scattered all around
Some cursed, some prayed, some prayed then cursed
Then prayed and bled some more
And the only thing that I could see
Was a pair of brown eyes that was looking at me
But when we got back, labeled parts one to three
There was no pair of brown eyes waiting for me
And a rovin a rovin a rovin Ill go
For a pair of brown eyes
I looked at him he looked at me
All I could do was hate him
While ray and philomena sang
Of my elusive dream
I saw the streams, the rolling hills
Where his brown eyes were waiting
And I thought about a pair of brown eyes
That waited once for me
So drunk to hell I left the place
Sometimes crawling sometimes walking
A hungry sound came across the breeze
So I gave the walls a talking
And I heard the sounds of long ago
From the old canal
And the birds were whistling in the trees
Where the wind was gently laughing
And a rovin a rovin a rovin Ill go
For a pair of brown eyes
song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Let Your Fingers Do The Walking
Back in the days of covered wagons
A man had his own way
Whether talkin' to a woman
Or crossing the U.S.A.
No telephones were ringing
No angry words exchanged.
I wish I was back in the saddle now
Riding on the range.
Let your fingers do the walking
Call me up some time
I'm listed under Broken Hearts
Looking for a good time.
I can't reach out and touch you
You're hung up on the line
I'm your disconnected number now
And you're a private line.
Well, I used to be so happy,
When you gave good 'phone.
I could call you up from anywhere
For a little bit of home
But now my heart is aching
After every call
By the way you talk you'd think
You never gave good 'phone at all.
Let your fingers do the walking
Call me up some time
I'm listed under Broken Hearts
Looking for a good time.
I can't reach out and touch you
You're hung up on the line
I'm your disconnected number now
And you're a private line.
Let your fingers do the walking
Call me up some time
I'm listed under Broken Hearts.
Looking for a good time.
I can't reach out and touch you
You're hung up on the line
I'm your disconnected number now
And you're a private line.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fingers
Back in the days of covered wagons
A man had his own way
Whether talkin' to a woman
Or crossing the U.S.A.
No telephones were ringing
No angry words exchanged.
I wish I was back in the saddle now
Riding on the range.
Let your fingers do the walking
Call me up some time
I'm listed under Broken Hearts
Looking for a good time.
I can't reach out and touch you
You're hung up on the line
I'm your disconnected number now
And you're a private line.
Well, I used to be so happy,
When you gave good 'phone.
I could call you up from anywhere
For a little bit of home
But now my heart is aching
After every call
By the way you talk you'd think
You never gave good 'phone at all.
Let your fingers do the walking
Call me up some time
I'm listed under Broken Hearts
Looking for a good time.
I can't reach out and touch you
You're hung up on the line
I'm your disconnected number now
And you're a private line.
Let your fingers do the walking
Call me up some time
I'm listed under Broken Hearts.
Looking for a good time.
I can't reach out and touch you
You're hung up on the line
I'm your disconnected number now
And you're a private line.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shackles
an old Esso sign,
broken down,
standing in the corner.
empty block building,
windows broke out,
wind whistles through the dust.
an old set of shackles,
hanging on a peg.
two broken chairs,
and an empty coke bottle.
lost on the road
that no one travels anymore.
an old rotary phone...
a tattered flag on the floor.
an old Chevy up on blocks,
black crows flying overhead...
i sit down and light a smoke,
staring at the shackles....
and letting go!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Daddy's Working Boots
(Dolly Parton)
My dear hard workin' daddy works his life away for us
That's the way that daddy shows to us his love
And Daddy's two hard working hands
They're callous and they're sore
And Daddy's workin' boots have walked a million miles or more
As long as I remember, I remember Daddy workin'
Workin' on the job or either on the farm
Tryin' to provide for the family that he loves
And Daddy's working boots have taken many steps for us
Chorus:
Daddy's workin' boots have served as his foundation
Though just like him, they're tired and worn
For years they've helped him stand
Daddy's working boots have filled their obligation
They've walked that rocky road with a mighty, mighty man
Dear lord above, I know up there my Daddy's got a mansion
And a great reward that's long been overdue
And when it comes my Daddy's time to be with you in heaven
Spoken:
Won't cha let him walk your golden streets
In a pair of brand new golden boots
Repeat Chorus
Daddy's workin' boots
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love Lost Broken Hearts
Love Lost Broken Hearts
Within the time love is lost
Thrown asunder into the
Wind
Left
Many broken hearts to live
In loneliness
Broken down piece by piece
Weaken just to mourn a love
That was once beautiful
But Now
Just tossed into the wind
Like the petals from the rose
Destined to ride upon the
Wind
Now used and broken
Just
Tears fills the wind
Sobbing echo's into the night
From the broken hearts
Tossed away like broken
Glass
Ancient and old as the lost
Love is trapped
Within time
Within the mind
Love that is lost from time
Back than
Weaken from the fight trying
To hold their lover heart
But
Cannot be regained
Cannot be mended
Spoiled without even a
'Sigh'
From her lover's heart
Just echo's of hurt and tears
From
The painful ruins of love tied
So strong
Being tossed to the wind as
Unwanted paper
Lonely eyes
Lonely hearts
Lonely tears
Just rides and echo's in the
Wind
Crying out for their love
That cannot be found
So desperately in need
To find their place in
The heart of the wind
That holds all their tears
Their fears
Their Pain
That bleeds into the heart
Of the wind
From The Love That Is Lost
And The Broken hearts..
poem by Carolyn Sears
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Then I Met You
Then I met you
Thought that Id be happy
Going to be so happy
Living life alone and never sharing anything
Thought that I was finished
Thought that I was complete
Thought that I was whole instead of being half of something
Thought that I was growing
Growing older, wiser
Understanding why this world held nothing for my spirit
Thought that I was destined
Destined to be nothing
Destined to be nothing in this world and then I met you.
I met you
Thought that God had failed me
Thought my prayers were useless
Thought that he would never give the chance for me to praise him
Thought the book was written
Thought the game had ended
Thought the song was sung and I could never sing another
Thought my faith was misplaced
Thought my back was broken
Broken by a weight that I was never fit to carry
Thought I knew this city
Thought I knew all about it
And then one night I went to morningside and you were waiting
I met you
song performed by by Proclaimers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Broken Hearted
By eric clapton and greg phillinganes
When the wind blows down this hard,
Many a bond is broken.
See the water lie on the ground
From where the heavens opened.
Lord, how will you get through this night
With your dreams departed?
And who alone will comfort you?
Only the broken hearted.
So youve gone beyond your means,
Every wound is open,
Your best laid plans are out of reach,
And all your fears unspoken.
Chorus
Sweet revenge is spoken then;
In the twilight it is gone.
To living lies with no escape,
Lord, I would rather be alone.
I press my fingers to the wood
To tell you of my dreaming,
To sing you songs from olden times,
To keep the love light gleaming.
cause theres a place where we can go,
Where we will not be parted.
And who alone will enter there?
Only the broken hearted.
Only the broken, broken hearted.
Only the broken, broken hearted.
Only the broken, broken hearted.
Only the broken, broken hearted.
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'll Be Around
i'll be around...
in the wind that rustles your curtains,
in the whisper of darkness that taunts the moonlight.
in the silence that roars, and is then still...
in the prayers that children do not understand,
in the dying old man's aloneness.
in the blood that testifies against the hands,
in the hands that cannot escape the heart.
in the feet walking by their own will,
in the soul scarred by mistakes.
in the hungry mouth and the desperate eyes
that have seen and known too much.
in the fear that comes in the middle of the night,
and the dawn that never seems to come.
in the need to worship and the faith to act,
in the doubt that destroys false idols.
in the pound of the guns, the cries for help,
and the fire that has no favorites.
in the defiant stand, feet set firm,
the mark of the chains on backs and wrists.
in the freedom that does not buy and sell,
that sees beneath the skin.
in the constant dialogue of 'i and thou',
in the me that disperses and dissolves.
in the hammer, the saw, and the shovel,
in the grasses beneath bare feet.
in the song of the whipporwill,
and the final hoot of the owl.
in the howling of wolves,
and the sleepy stillness of the cattle.
in the hidden depths of your heart,
and the quiet darkness that forms your thoughts.
in the grain of the tree just cut,
and the rhythm of the fire going dead.
in every voice that cries for justice,
in every hand that reaches for help!
in the working hum of common thread,
in the simple dignity of the family.
in the ghosts of soldiers lost in battle,
in the weeping of mothers over their graves.
and in the constant courage of the peacemakers,
the voice of reason and compassion.
in the truth that all men are equal...
in the bridge from here to there!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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