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Best Poems Written by Krystal Cochrane

Below are the all-time best Krystal Cochrane poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Krystal Cochrane Poem

My Pilot Light

My Pilot Light

In a hidden crevice
between soul and skin,
there is a flicker, 
a tangerine flame
blazing through black abyss;
illuminating infinite veins of strength 
that light like gun powder;
a thousand volts of survival 
searing through my core.	

There is a whisper in that flame,
ripples beyond discernible sound,
that directs me to take solace
in the unwavering knowledge 
that my dreams are already realized,
waiting on life’s top shelf;
I have only to climb up and see
that they were never out of reach,
only temporarily out of sight.

I know this more securely 
than I can be sure of anything else:
love, marriage, children,
are rolls of a roulette dice
that tumble around in a risky blur
chancing to settle on snake eyes,
but desire, aspiration, ambition and execution
are coordinates on my internal map
and I will never lose direction.

Spin all the cobwebs of doubt
that you believe can trap my will,
but what I have you can’t touch
or break, or steal, or burn out;
such is the radiance 
of my inextinguishable flame
burning on a wick of passion,
feeding on a fuel of might, 
and guaranteed to burn the hand 
that comes too close
to touching 
my pilot light.

Details | Krystal Cochrane Poem

I Remove All My Clothing Yet I Am Not Naked

Skating fingers criss-cross, glide down my neck;
Under my clothing feel free to check
For a zipper, a button - my body serene,
It’s far beneath my skin the treasure unseen.

Why do you fumble and why with such need
Do you remove all my clothing longing to see
Bare hips so to know me?
Bare back so to know me?
Or pink candy stars soft on my breast
So to impress on your mind my complete nakedness?

I do not stand Revealed, though bare is my skin,
I do not stand Exposed, to believe so is sin.
You have removed only waves which accent the sea;
You cannot fathom the depth of the ocean in me.

See my hips – you do not know my rhythm.
See my back – you do not know my strength.
See my stars – you do not know my dreams:

Go ahead, touch me, I am not Naked
Well hidden are my seams.

Details | Krystal Cochrane Poem

Morning Rain

No tears as we scoop up the moon,
zip up dirt statues that dance in the sky,
and pour out the sea of stars. 

We laugh as we boil to pull closer the sun, 
turn our night song into the whistle of a soothing wind, 
and blanket mountain tops with snow.

We sip blueberry flowers as we clip birds to trees,
turtles to seas, and playful dogs to shoes;
then we lean in and candle the dawn. 

No tears as we scoop up the moon,
snag the sun, and slice the sky.

No tears,
           Unless,  
                  As morning rain they fall.

Details | Krystal Cochrane Poem

Forest Trail

I am the forest trail
steep and dangerous
expansive and free
my rocks could be your bearings
or they could give away under your feet
I can offer water and refuge
or a maze tight as a wreath
colours from sky to soil
air organic and wild
you might question the way you used to breathe
climb great heights
trip on roots wrought deep
find views not to be forgotten
tame the animals you meet
life here perseveres
even when it is delicate and thin
and many trample on the trail
to explore what's within
but the guides warn
do not disturb the earth
for once you pluck what's living
there's only diminishing returns
now the streams are hissing
moon and stars are reminiscing
you took only a leaf
but I can feel 
suddenly
it is missing.

Details | Krystal Cochrane Poem

Cornflakes, Crosswords and Coffee

Cornflakes with honey and chilled little feet
from drafty morning windows and cool tile floors
sits next to her grandfather to listen 
as he tells stories from his days in the war.
 
She watches him lift his ceramic brown mug 
with steam like silhouette hands reaching his face
the black brew smells of warm summer soil 
so she leans over and asks for a taste.
 
"This drink is for the adults, dear, you're much too young,
the flavour is too bitter and strong for your tongue."
 
The aroma mixes with newspaper and aftershave
she stares at the mug's water black and mysterious 
then rests her little head on his sweater to watch 
as he marks letters in the crossword with eyes so serious.  
 
Memories of breakfast together are never lost 
feeling safe and calm and completely at peace
they live in every sip of her morning coffee 
with cornflakes, crosswords and chilled little feet.

Details | Krystal Cochrane Poem

The Story of Joshua Bell

They don't speak
those walls
only absorb
scraps of life
the stench of urine
lucky pennies
desperate art
and a ringing clamber of voices
that move with every rush of air
down winding subway tunnels
 
here life collides 
in status
and in thunders
those walls
bear witness 
to many miseries
and many wonders 
 
on this day
the subway walls
mesmerised by a sight
never seen before
lamented 
the death of beauty
as it passed thousands
gracefully 
and ignored
 
rushing
skirts, pants, collars, cologne
rushing
fingers, slender, darting in a blur
hollow 
minds, tempers, hellos and goodbyes
hollow 
music, echoing, not a soul does it stir
lost
man to the intricate beauty of pattern
lost
eyes of passerbys to the empty roundabouts of life
fickle
strings snapping with the stress of exertion
fickle 
ambition, love, expectation and strife
 
they were all mixed together
in a bowl of concrete walls
they whirled
six of Bach's greatest works
a handcrafted violin
from 1713
played by one of the greatest
violinists
in the world
 
he played incognito
only six people stopped
20 gave him money
and then continued 
to walk
 
a three year old boy
was drawn 
to the sound
his mother let him 
listen
his eyes wide
and astound
but watches soon tick
and they tick too loud
and they drive 
the crowd forward
as if stopping
is not allowed
 
Joshua Bell
let his bow fall limp
as the last of his music
was swallowed 
by the whitenoise
of life
and screeching 
metro trains
the only sound 
of applaud
soon stolen
by a new rush of air 
 
the subway walls
silent
reflect
people would find peace
in the thick of life
if only
they would
connect.

Details | Krystal Cochrane Poem

Velcro Heart

Zurrip Zurrip
rip it, pull it, yank it free
peel your velcro heart from me;

stick it to lashes
stick it to hair
stick it to a love that's barely there.

Zurrip Zurrip
fine job you did to zip me in
a velcro heart plays to win

loop it in my mind
lock it on my tongue
hook it on my love, then I guess you're done.

Zurrip Zurrip
the bristles break
the more a velcro heart does take

unstick it from my future
unstick it from my past
rip it from me openly be sure to do it fast. 

Zurrip Zurrip
the taste of love is is never so tart
until you find yourself fastened to a velcro heart.

Details | Krystal Cochrane Poem

Don'T Interrupt the Music

Dissonance is delegating the intensity in my eyes
Minor chords unveil the passion my body can’t belie 
Eighth notes are lightning sparks that burn my finger tips
And when you play Fminor7 I tend to bite my lips.
I want you to scale my thighs 
the way you play A minor harmonic
Deftly wrenching haunting moans 
Experiences anything but platonic
Allegro Legato Crescendo Vibrato
Sing to me in Italian and tell me to hold my tongue
But if anyone interrupts the music …
a piano's lid comes crashing down--the last note never sung.

Details | Krystal Cochrane Poem

Poucha Dass Meditation

I close my eyes 
locked in a millisecond
the moment before the bow 
touches the strings 
where silence has a tremor
and wraps me in darkness 
until I hear its particles 
vibrating against me
 
the bow wrenches
from the depth of the bass 
a groan from the earth
as if waking a millennia of slumber
the first note
long, rich and haunting
now coming to life 
now ready to speak 
 
legs crossed and hands limp
pay attention 
to the sources of discomfort
tension in the neck, anxiety in the chest
fatigue in the limbs
heaviness in the core
 
let this weight sink
pull down through me 
melt through me
let it drag and seep 
through my bones
until it submerges 
into the ground below
 
transform to roots 
connect me
grow deep into the soil
until the energy is revitalized 
until I am reminded
we grow from this intricate system
no different from the forest and gardens
spreading, connecting, entwining
 
the earth is booming 
the bass its voice
chanting, singing, commanding 
a mantra in a language I don't understand
but with a pulse
I can feel
and it is telling me
I have all I need
 
visualize one by one 
sources of emotional exhaustion
with each dredge up the full power 
of all feelings
feelings long suppressed, feelings of fear
allow body and mind to swim 
one last time 
before I breathe in and blow them away
 
my body is lighter, sitting straighter
a tall blade of grass 
swaying as one
looking across the field 
up to the cliff's edge
and over the sunlit ocean 
 
taste sweet scent
of wind
stretch to feel 
soft earth
open eyes 
to unending sky
focus
on what it means to be alive.

Details | Krystal Cochrane Poem

Let Me Float

Let me wade 
deep into the water
with all my clothes still on.
Let my body 
ripple in the space I occupy.
Let me swim 
in the murky water
and dip my skin 
in the unrefined.

They seem much too eager 
to have me sit very still 
for long 
long periods of time 
as they talk.

I am the grass that grows 
between the weathered
cracked cement.
You are delirium
that takes over 
when my spirit is spent.
I am the dagwood painted trees 
I blossom in the night.
I own the obstacles 
that stand between 
me and life.

Let me float.

Let me walk 
barefoot through the vineyards 
where the soil can cling
to the soles of my feet.
Let the weight 
of my body 
impress upon the ground 
some sign of life.
Let me steep
in the adrenaline 
the sun seems to wring from my skin.

They seem much too eager 
to have me sit very still 
for long 
long periods of time 
as they talk.

I am the grass that grows 
between the weathered
cracked cement.
You are delirium
that takes over 
when my spirit is spent
I am the dagwood painted trees 
I blossom in the night
I own the obstacles 
that stand between 
me and life.

Let me float.