i didn't do it, i swear

i didn't do it, i swear

 

 

 

i have slammed words on a page,

slammed books shut in frustration

when plots are thinning

and ink is simply staining

caught glued to a binder

caught without a syllable to spend

themes wrested from confusion

confusion wrested from a brain failing 

to comprehend

 

i eat vowels for breakfast

spit out consonants after lunch

and chew earnestly on neither for brunch

dinner finds me lacking in capital

lines wrought with them

all in the wrong places

 

but for the love of spaces

i roam

alone

on lovely white plains

growing pains of writing

blissful agony

so what if my plots are thinning

and my ink is simply staining

 

the books and i have now collaborated

celebrated

innovated

and exonerated

 

those petty thoughts in my head

rescued from the dead

 

still jamming and slamming

with frustration's inspiration

from allegations

of sense.

 

 

erin-cilberto

8/17/19

Reviews

[gram linski]

another awesome poem j. how do you keep writing at such high quality, your simply staining ink is inspiring and delightful to read

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your very kind words, gram,
j.

[Lorry]

This to me Jacob, brought memories of reading old journals, impressed in places and perplexed in others, as to what we were thinking of at the time of writing and wondering if we reached our original intention. We downplay their importance, but could we ever part with such a passion and record of ourselves?
I regret now having got rid of all my old journals, through thinking they were just taking up space. I now know they were meant to be read one more time.
The last verse could be an inspirational quote on the front of one of those journals.
Really enjoyed and related with this.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i rarely pull them out anymore....but never threw away the old notebooks with my first pieces back in 1970---we had to start somewhere...
hopefully i look at that stuff and think how far i have come from those words...maybe wishful thinking...but thinking all the same.
thank you, Lorry,
j.

[Lorry]

I remember the first poem I wrote. It was called midnight and I thought "where did that come from? It's pretty good." it wasn't, but it did give me the bug. I was a young fool back then, now I'm an old one with no excuse 😀

[Gypsy Warrior Queen]

It's always you J, doing just you AND IT IS ALWAYS SPECTACULAR

[jacob erin-cilberto]

you are too kind, Queenie...
thank you.

j.

[Chris Shaw]

For all your frustrations at not always writing to the standard you wish to achieve, (and poets are always their own worse critics) you are compelled to fill those blank pages. You have the books to celebrate your successes. There is no need for self doubt. That is where you took me Jacob. Keep spilling the ink.

Chris

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind words, Chris....i think the ink spills on its own...not in my control..
read morethank you for your kind words, Chris....i think the ink spills on its own...not in my control..
j.

[John Alexander McFadyen]

The trials and tribulations as the poet struggles with his art, often doubting self but always coming back to the blank page to sully it with spewed emotions in words. As always a great allegory, one with a lot of emotion attached.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your words, John,
j.

[redzone]

the agony and sometimes esctasy of a poet.... you describe it well Jacob... oh and by the way yes you did do it!!! you created a poem out of all that frustration and slamming and all the allegations those words accused you of... a bit of advise my friend, just own it and gather more words for those blank pages... after a while and some head scratching, they do begin to make sense... honest.. er.. well usually... ;0)

and for what it's worth, you did good Jacob.... yep, like Ted said down below, "very good"....

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind review, Curt....
and the smile...
j.

[John the Baptist]

If not a full fledged block, the speaker is describing some kind of creative difficulty. Apparently the words are coming, but they are not satisfactory words. We all know what it's like to "roam alone on lovely white plains,'' empty pages of paper. Really liked the word plays in this one. However, if you're spitting out consonants, please don't read any Welsh travel guides; you'll choke on the town names.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i appreciate you relating to this John...
thank you for your words...and i will stay away from the Welsh travel guides...thank you...
j.

[Ted Kniffen]

A writer's life, j. Filling reams of empty pages with drivel hoping one or two lines will pop up...at times the ideas dry up...replaced with the agony of misfires and empty chambers...then, somewhere in those petty thoughts, one steps into the light and its off to the races once more.

A good write, j.
Very good.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your understanding words, Ted,
j.