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K Cochrane Poem
The beginning has begun – light breaks through a broken past.
I walked around the turn and jumped through the looking glass.
I dizzied in the bend, and knew it wouldn’t last,
my battleship has sunk… the flag now at half-mast.
A garden I now grow, and tend it every day.
The Cheshire Cat - it grins – love’s lust in a passion play.
I seek the path that leads, believing I won’t stray…
No beginning and no end; A tie that binds, they say.
Copyright © K Cochrane | Year Posted 2010
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K Cochrane Poem
I'm frightened.... what if I'm wrong?
I'm scared.... what if I'm right?
If I fall in love with him today,
Will he leave me in the night?
A world of getting to know him,
as curious as it seems,
Sometimes I feel I've known him before...
A dream within a dream.
With my hand in his I felt a melody
sweep through an orchestra of confusion;
my heart remembering a tale untold -
harmony, love, or delusion?
I hid behind a cool shade
(he knew I loved him though),
forever trembling on the warmest day...
when my eyes couldn’t lie he saw my soul.
No longer knowing who I was,
I didn't see "ME" in the mirror.
Too much time with broken people,
tainted choices... beer.
Blinded from pure ignorance,
A duel of choice raged within--
stay and live in two separate worlds,
or leave to find "ME" again.
The risk to never keep his love,
was a risk that was far too great,
but losing myself would surely lose him
…it was a risk I had to take.
A warm shadow covers my heart
when I think of days left behind;
silky hair, warm skin,
a manly man with a worldly mind.
Destiny....I need to know
is fate my imagination?
Words work double in my mind.
Does love mean passion -- or frustration?
Copyright © K Cochrane | Year Posted 2010
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K Cochrane Poem
The man walks on,
through the nightmares and dreams,
his only intent
to be wanted (it seems).
Looking in through a window
from out in the cold—
watching softly as
his family unfolds.
Knowing he’ll never be safe
or warm within,
for you see— his existence
has been branded a sin.
Though he yearns to be welcomed,
and has stories to tell,
he chooses his silence...
creating his hell.
Will he ever be happy?
Surely not. He believes
he belongs with the beggars,
the artists, the thieves.
A long time ago
he gave up his true voice.
The true tragedy here is
that he made his own choice.
Hide and seek with his soul,
the only way to win,
is to drown in the drink...
bury it deep within.
Copyright © K Cochrane | Year Posted 2010
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K Cochrane Poem
In quiet gold of autumn's dawn,
sadness fills the wakened sky.
It seems so long that I’ve been gone
a lonely soul begins to cry.
A hand outstretched catches my fall—
touches my life even from afar—
a mother's care, after all,
has more strength than the brightest star.
Conforming to life's rules unfair
and carrying a fearsome weight,
in spite of sickness and despair
her will is strong and spirit great.
Through time she has grown beyond
the pressure of what has been gained.
Unspoken, the voice will carry on.
Unbroken is the golden chain.
I’ve felt the touch, and felt the gift,
treasured memories are my joy—
the smiles that help my spirits lift
turn away the pain and annoy.
With nothing certain ‘round the bend
even when flowers fill the air,
appreciation for my mother and friend—
my gift to you is a prayer.
Copyright © K Cochrane | Year Posted 2010
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K Cochrane Poem
Dance like no one is watching,
hold her like no one sees,
step on all the cockroaches,
swat at the buzzing bees,
screw the rat in the corner
(nothing comes for free).
Cut the strings of fate,
clip the wings of destiny,
scream to stop the clock,
Heaven’s gates won’t wait for “please”.
Writhing in rapture while building your own tomb–
wanting for anything… and nothing coming soon…
Dance when no one is watching,
see what no one sees,
step past all the cockroaches,
and go around the buzzing bees.
Screw the rat in the corner
(no one sees what he sees),
cut the strings of fate...
BUILD your own destiny.
Copyright © K Cochrane | Year Posted 2012
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K Cochrane Poem
Inside
a voice calls you on;
a blinding echo
shrill and long -
pushing through,
past what’s real -
fading, shading
what you feel.
Inside
the scars that mark your pain
won’t let you tell -
you can’t explain.
Can’t lose control,
can’t understand,
don’t want to cry
or lose the man.
Copyright © K Cochrane | Year Posted 2018
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