Eric Cockrell


Curl Of Smoke - Poem by Eric Cockrell

a small fire...
blue skies throught barelimbed lenses....
frost bitten grass turns,

the hymn of death continues....
the taste of life, sharp, and pungent!
every touch turned electric,

even the air, alive, and heady!
the sound of lives, wind blowing tin,
and the silent grieving of the stricken!

prayer falls like sweat from dirty faces,
the axe feels good in my hands.
a nip of brandy, a curl of smoke,

alive, and singing the living!

Listen to this poem:

Comments about Curl Of Smoke by Eric Cockrell

There is no comment submitted by members..



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?



Poem Submitted: Thursday, December 1, 2011



[Report Error]