Tiny Kingdoms Fall Poem by Eric Cockrell
Tiny Kingdoms Fall
tis the broken cup,
water boiling for the tea.
the curtain stained,
seven dollars in change.
the gas can empty,
the kerosene heater waits its call.
one last cigarette,
the hawk lost against the sky.
potatoes and ashes,
of such revolution.
things done out of season,
prayers spoken with shadows.
black and white photographs,
never eat or make love.
the world is shaken,
and tiny kingdoms fall!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/24/2024 2:28:05 AM # 1.0.0.1119
i like how this poem portrays being down on ones luck...and the hawk lost against the sky seems symbolic of that feeling of loneliness...like an island or something. out in the middle of nowhere. probably half of my really good poems were written while in terrible situations in life, but you get to see what youre made of, and then you come out of the dark. great poem Eric!