Tilling the Soiled Memory

Tilling the Soiled Memory

 

 

a grateful summons

apologetic chemistry

early morning blues

a night of truancy

 

another heart

another flower plucked

the bloom in espionage fire

the flaming rose rejected

 

wilts in worn remorse

both pretending to be gardening in the dark

but sunlight sifts truth

and the shadow of guilt

 

is a weed that grows among thorns

the rose long deceased

is finally cut from the stem

with no future breath emerging.

 

 

 

 

erin-cilberto

11/17/19

Reviews

[barleygirl]

Love your title, how it grows out of "till the soil" . . . & your msg is a raw plowed-up mishmash of debris & blooms & working the dirt. This line is a work of art: "both pretending to be gardening in the dark" (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind review, Margie.
j.

[Jimmy Yetts]

Practically all we hear about is the bad; fatalism seems to be the unorganized religion of almost every modern generation.
Whether humans are God's most beloved handiwork or evolution's ablest survivors, we have the stuff to triumph under a loving and noble banner.
The consequences of our own disastrous free-will choices constantly distort the world we live in.
This poem demonstrates both your artistic gifts and amazing craftsmanship.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your insights and very kind review, Jimmy,
j.

[kentuck14]

memory is history . . . and the love of history is lacking today. Younger gens have not created history yet . . . or at least they do not care to remember yet because there is nothing there yet. It is the job of the elders to remember and share . . . whether anyone listens or not.
T

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i wonder how much the younger gen will want to remember...the way things are today...so different...the music, everything just doesn't feel as memorable...but perhaps i am just cynical.
thanks for your words, T.
j.

[Lorry]

A very poetic way that may just be lost to the now generation of swiping left or right Jacob.
I do believe that milennials have their memories wiped during sleep these days, and are left wondering why we wonder about such things.
If only we came with that app pre-installed.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i am afraid you are right, Lorry...i see it every day teaching them...
j.

[Neville]

Regret and guilt are not good bedfellows... but both good and bad bedfellows have an awful lot to answer for ..... memories eh' who would have em...... nice one sir.. and then some.

Neville

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind review, Neville,
j.

[Sami Khalil]

Master of finely written verse with great imagery from everyday life. Many to quote with reverberating sadness and guilt. Your great future has emerged sir from the past hoping to last.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kindness, Sami,
j.

[Sami Khalil]

You are welcome sir Jacob.

[Eilis]

This is a challenging idea, Jacob. It’s like a mixing of guilt and understanding. Trying to locate the strength to let go of guilt perhaps.

I was compelled by the idea of the weed growing up among the thorns. To my mind that denotes a sort of renewal among that which has passed away, but, there’s more to it than that. It’s a complex mixture of feelings. The end in itself feels like a closing of the book.

I find it interesting how you explore the ideas of guilt and loss in your poems. The things that linger long after they have lived out their allotted life. Like the rose here still hanging on and needing to be physically cut away. It’s a stirring idea.

I enjoyed the puzzle of this poem.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i really appreciate your insightful words, Eilis...you are so good at reflecting a poet's work back to that poet.
thank you,
j.

[emmajoy]

'.. the shadow of guilt.. is a weed that grows among thorns..'0

As always, j., you use such fine metaphorical skill, makes me for one, re.examine what's just been read, then, see it in a slightly or more different way. May I ask, have you always thought like that or is it something you've adopted?

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i think metaphors were there even when i first started writing poetry in 1970....but i don't know what to say, em....i have always just written down what words come to me...like out of the air.
i am not responsible for what i write...the muse apparently runs the show...and she likes metaphor..i usually just catch a phrase and go from there.
thank you for your kind words,
j.

[emmajoy]

How lucky you are to have that instinctive skill!. I haven't, consequently, I blather! Must, must, must find the way, Wishing you a happy day, j

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Lucky for sure...instinctive skill, not sure about that...i don't feel responsible for anything i write...i am just a conduit for the muse...most of the time i look at something i have written and either say "did i write this?" or..."where did this come from?"
very lucky....and i don't take that lightly...
thank you, dear friend...and have a happy day yourself..
j.

[emmajoy]

Must admit that occasionally I've tyed something but not been aware it had been waiting to appear.. perhaps a touch of same, similar! Need rush away, please excuse me. Smile. .