Window Left Open...
the vase fell to the floor,
and shattered into tiny pieces.
the broom in the corner wept.
the box in the closet drew breath sharply,
the book on the shelf turned away.
the bulb in the lamp burned out.
the spider packed up its web and left.
the empty nest fell from the tree.
rainwater gushed from the gutters.
the young boy locked in his room
crawled out the window.
the neighbor's dog barked...
god gathered her clothes,
and put on her shoes.
while warships sailed for another land.
drones killed three women on the way to market,
another baby died without having lived.
another factory shut down,
another church burned to the ground,
so many things said and unsaid.
another chapter, another book unread.
things are not what they seem.
another war on pillows fought by silence,
another day in a land untouched.
old trees pray for lightning,
old dogs wait without fear.
old photographs turn yellow and fade.
old men empty their pockets and die.
even Jesus couldnt wait this long....
they say the good die young.
the thief in the garden steals roses,
that he gives to a girl wearing glasses.
while passion weeps waiting for snow.
and leaves prepare to fall...
the vase fell to the floor,
and shattered into tiny pieces...
the moth flew through a window left open!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
You Never Sleep On
that book on the shelf,
the one you've forgotten,
waiting in silence,
untouched and unread.
the crack in the window,
rainwater seeps through.
the lamp by the table,
you never turn on.
the axe in the corner,
covered by shadows and web.
the limbs ripped from the tree,
blown by the storm.
that old photograph album,
pictures yellowed by time.
the guitar in the closet,
waiting to be strung.
and the sound of the ocean,
in the shell you never pick up.
the skin left by the snake,
clouds that cover the moon.
the letter you never opened,
the ring in the drawer...
my heart on the pillow,
you never sleep on!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Winter Night
It snowed and snowed ,the whole world over,
Snow swept the world from end to end.
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.
As during summer midges swarm
To beat their wings against a flame
Out in the yard the snowflakes swarmed
To beat against the window pane
The blizzard sculptured on the glass
Designs of arrows and of whorls.
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.
Distorted shadows fell
Upon the lighted ceiling:
Shadows of crossed arms,of crossed legs-
Of crossed destiny.
Two tiny shoes fell to the floor
And thudded.
A candle on a nightstand shed wax tears
Upon a dress.
All things vanished within
The snowy murk-white,hoary.
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.
A corner draft fluttered the flame
And the white fever of temptation
Upswept its angel wings that cast
A cruciform shadow
It snowed hard throughout the month
Of February, and almost constantly
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.
poem by Boris Pasternak
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The Small Lamp
the small lamp
beside the bed in the empty room,
burns strong with silence,
and waits without reason.
the pawprint of the dog
beneath the window,
identifying emptiness.
and the broom in the corner,
stands ever on guard.
the book of passage unread,
urine stained sheets.
even god almighty
cant control the wind,
that blows through the window,
and fills the room.
while babies are born,
and wars are stopped.
yet the earth waits without breath,
for the coming of love!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Heart Of The Country
A candle burns in the
Heart of the country
The flame fades though
I see to it sadly
It takes me further away
Than I have ever been
I wait and the darkness comes
I pray for my only one
And I wonder if you ever
Will see this land again
We took this land
And we brought it goodness
It's taken everything
And left only emptiness
I am not broken
Although I have the seeds in me
I wait and the darkness comes
I pray for my only one
And I wonder if you ever
Will see this land again
I hide my face against the sun
I hide my fear from everyone
But I've had enough of secrets
They're all lies we're scared to tell
I just need someone to be with
I just need to say you fell
There's nothing out here
But me and a whisper
And now it's failing
I won't even listen
I watch the fall and it's
Time that I was leaving too
I wait and the darkness comes
I pray for my only one
And I wonder if you ever
Will see this land again
I wait and the darkness comes
I pray for my only one
And I wonder if you ever
Will see this land again
I wait and the darkness comes
I pray for my only one
And I wonder if you ever
Will see this land again
I wait and the darkness comes
I pray for my only one
And I wonder if you ever
Will see this land again
song performed by by Anni Frid Lyngstad from Shine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lost In Echo.....
you cut off my thumbs,
strung them on a necklace.
split my tongue with a razor,
and burned my shoes.
now i go howling,
in half darkened rooms.
drawn by the scent and the symphony,
of red pulsing blood!
you arched your back,
and the curtains trembled.
the vase full of water,
fell on your pillow.
i awoke from a dream,
my lips dry and aching.
moaned without thinking,
the willow bent, and sure!
who are we? the forgotten,
the silence lost in echo!
the tire worn thin,
the key left in the lock.
the bottle near empty,
on the edge of god's table...
the drum in the closet,
the nest blown by the wind!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Life Goes On!
behind the well lit window,
the coffee pot churns.
doors open and close,
and hair is combed.
in silent hurry,
the day laid out,
life goes on, life goes on.
things left unsaid,
perhaps a note.
the brush in passing
through the tangled hallway.
the tv news, grey anvil tongue.
eyes squinted, life goes on.
while on a vacant corner,
in an empty house
neath a burned out bulb,
nothing gathers in shadows...
prayers fall on deaf ears.
an empty bed, and the shelves are bare,
nothing rhymes nothing,
life goes on!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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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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Through The Veil for Dave Walker
there's a light
in the window
of the house
forgotten by time;
a book on the table,
unopened.
footprints on the floor
covered with dust.
a cup in the sink
half-empty.
the wind blows
curtains grey with time....
whispering, whispering....
names that cannot
be heard.
voices, echoes,
creaking the floor.
a book of photographs
on the closet floor.
walking through the mist,
the fog and the shadows,
touching small particles
of being left like gifts....
lives unwrapped into mine!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Glass Rose (Moan Of The Night)
a glass rose
shattered on the bare floor...
tiny pieces glinting
in the late evening light.
an old photograph,
half burned in the ashtray...
hand on fire,
slips down, fingers enter
where faces disappear.
a small crucifix,
the breeze slips through the window,
picking up the scent,
staggers as if drunk.
the cruelty of the door,
the latch, and the shadow...
that laughs as it closes
the book and turns away...
a glass rose,
and the moan of the night!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Porcelain Heart
Though it was long ago, my heart still aches as though it just happened
That day when my heart of porcealian was shattered
It was dropped from a third story floor and fell to the ground
Breaking into a million tiny pieces
Over time the shards were gathered together
I glued them back together, and I thought I was okay
Then you came into my life, and I felt something
Something I hadn't felt in so long
It was an emotion I thought I'd lost
Even though we're just friends, I wonder
At night as I lay in my bed and the moon shines ih through my window
If we moved past being friends, I wonder
If I would be able to reciprocate any type of loving emotion you gave to me
I don't know if I could, because as I glued those shards together
I also built up a brick wall around my heart as well
So that I would never have to feel that shattering again
So that I would never have to see those shards of my heart lying on the ground again
A porcelain heart can only by put together so many times
And I don't know if mine can be put back together more than once
poem by Sae Amakura
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cup Now Empty
the body lowered in the grave,
has nothing left to say.
and the list of things to do,
falls from the dresser to the floor.
yesterdays, all that remain,
tomorrow never came.
both the candle,
and the book of matches,
turn away!
the lips set firm and cold,
never to kiss again.
eyes closed and locked like doors
that no one has the key to.
the heart wrapped in brown paper,
put away in a forgotten closet.
and the smells and tastes of dreams,
cannot bring life to silent bones!
what is done is done.
the brook turned quiet,
the pine tree weeps.
and the cawing of the crows,
haunts the dreamless...
the cup now empty!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What If God......
what if god is a dog,
or a fallen leaf?
the pebble that bruised your foot,
dust on the windowpane.
that old milk cow,
the stall that needs cleaned.
the plow caked with dirt,
the bag of seeds.
the fallen tree,
or the gust of wind.
rainwater in a barrel,
the pile of trash in the alley.
the river rising,
the eyes of the owl.
the upside down bat,
the darkness of the cave.
moonlight sifting through branches,
the leader of the ants.
the word the hand speaks,
when it brushes away tears.
the hatred of the ignorant
that weeps when no one sees.
a cup of coffee,
or a bowl of rice.
the smell of failure,
asking for forgiveness.
the baby bird that fell,
the nest left empty.
the child born,
that no one wants.
the disease that kills,
snow on the ground.
the old bridge that shakes,
the lantern waiting to be lit.
the last page of the book,
that no one reads!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Just Couldnt Wait
I miss her face, but the girl left seven years ago.
Guess I never shouldve let her go.
Thats how I feel because I love her so.
But Im afraid that she will never know.
She just couldnt wait, she said she couldnt wait til some day.
She just couldnt wait, my baby just couldnt wait, no.
She said she couldnt wait til some day, til some day.
Oh, tell me now, where do the broken-hearted go from here.
You missed her love and now youre steering clear.
I aint afraid of nothin but my fear.
The fear that she might see this rollin tear.
She just couldnt wait, she said she couldnt wait til sunday.
She just couldnt wait, my baby just couldnt wait, no.
She just couldnt wait, my baby just couldnt wait, no.
Oh she couldnt wait til sunday no, til sunday.
She just couldnt wait, my baby just couldnt wait, no.
She said she couldnt wait til sunday.
She just couldnt wait, my baby just couldnt wait, no.
She said she just couldnt wait.
You know she just couldnt wait, no.
She said she couldnt wait til sunday, til sunday.
Oh, oh...
song performed by by Grand Funk Railroad
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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The Bells Of Freedom
do the bells of freedom ring
every time someone dies of starvation?
every time a child is abused,
every time a woman's left alone
to raise the kids...
every time a young boy hangs himself,
every time an addict steals his fix...
every time a boy is shot dead in the street,
every time a mother weeps....
every time a boy goes off to war,
comes home in a bodybag....
and no one knows why.....
every time a family is evicted,
with nowhere to go....
every time a factory gets shut down,
and the workers walk away with empty
lunchboxes and shattered dreams.....
every time a minister gets up to pray,
and the silent, grieving, walk out...
every time a young girl gets beaten
by a pimp in a back room....
every time a family farm is taken,
every time a tanker leaks oil...
every time a prisoner is executed
for something he didnt do....
every time a protestor gets arrested
for standing up to be counted...
do they ring? and are they
the chimes of freedom....
or the bells of passing....
saying their final farewell!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I... Then!
i am... then,
the fallen sparrow,
the broken pane,
the house where no one lives!
the worn out shoes,
the guitar in the closet,
the child with cancer
staring from the window...
the book signed and forgotten
beneath the pillow,
the shotgun in the corner,
eyes painted that hide.
the telephone that doesnt ring,
love stains on the sheet.
the old man trying to bum a cup of coffee,
and the young girl behind the counter
who takes him a cup.
the political prisoner,
his blood on the floor.
the refugee... his blood
on his face!
the heretic who turned away
and found the face of god.
the lover left alone,
the darkness of night.
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Improvisations: Light And Snow: 08
Many things perplex me and leave me troubled,
Many things are locked away in the white book of stars
Never to be opened by me.
The starr’d leaves are silently turned,
And the mooned leaves;
And as they are turned, fall the shadows of life and death.
Perplexed and troubled,
I light a small light in a small room,
The lighted walls come closer to me,
The familiar pictures are clear.
I sit in my favourite chair and turn in my mind
The tiny pages of my own life, whereon so little is written,
And hear at the eastern window the pressure of a long wind, coming
From I know not where.
How many times have I sat here,
How many times will I sit here again,
Thinking these same things over and over in solitude
As a child says over and over
The first word he has learned to say.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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She Has Faces
She has faces up in her bedroom and they gaze down on her guarding her slumber
A black bead rosary under her pillow and when it thunders she clutches it tightly
And she hears silence is white, sound is black, the world is wrapped in a paper sack
And when I leave I close the door to this galaxy of yours
Dropping by I open a window as the breeze blows in the curtains are butterflies
And we hear the church bells ring out on a hill and all of their echoes left us singing
Silence is black, the room is bright, our world is basking in tv light
And we are laid out on the floor of this galaxy of yours
With all of your heroes waiting in paper piles laid on the floor
I push my paintbrush lightly and fill in any empty nail holes
A dresser top, a jewelry box, colored tassels tied in knots
And a porcelain girl danced a music box ballet for us
And your nightlight is a star, or a firefly, that
Leads my gaze up to the ceiling
Wondering if you think that its the sky
With all of your heroes...
Open the window slightly, pick up paper off the floor
I hold my paintbrush tightly, and fill in any empty nail holes
Open the window slightly
song performed by by Verve Pipe
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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My Shadow
Things I have left behind
Within an effort to move forward,
Counting every minute, every second-
Reliving my life through every hour, day and year-
The night time sky is falling before my own eyes
Blocking the pathway before me, blinding me-
I cannot foresee a future-The rain that fell every time
I tried to venture outward,
Rain that transformed to tears
When all hope had ostensibly disappeared.
Things I have left behind-
Places where I had been locked inside,
Having lost grounds with all that is real-
Perhaps a few roses in a cracked vase by my bedside,
A mother that did not care and a father that did not believe-
When through my own eyes my world had fallen to pieces.
I left behind many people-
People I did not trust and it was then that I knew
I had to rebuild my foundation,
To build a future for myself that would be mine and mine alone-
Things I have left behind are now
Gone and gone forever-all that is left is time-
Time to move on and to bury the past in my back yard and
Search for hope, a purpose and a new reality.
These things I have left behind are sinking into the ground-
Now I can foresee a future- the flame on my candle is burning
Guiding me as I run forward into a garden of blossoming trees and
A paved pathway upon which to run forward- and a cloudless sky
Where I can lift my wings, once broken and are healing, and fly-
Fly high above looking down below at my newfound veracity-
I know if I were to take a look behind-
All I could see would be a shadow upon a sidewalk-
A shadow of my past and everybody knows that shadows don't last forever, and
All else that I have left behind is gone forever,
Looking forward at the allure of the springtime and
I see clearly now- there is no more rain and as I look above me
I can see trees seemingly touching the sun against a deep blue sky-
I can see clearly now because my eyes are open wide and
There are no tears to cry today and when I glance behind me-
All I see is a shadow- that shadow of my past, vanishing in the late spring's breeze-
poem by Claudia Krizay
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