Endangered Species

Endangered Species

 

 

 

i tried to write a happy poem

but knocked over the ink well

and my heart got stained black and blue

 

so i lit the pen on fire

and watched the pages burn into unwritten history

while you smiled from your perch

 

up in heaven

and simultaneously

our imagined lines

met,

where we couldn't.

 

 

 

erin-cilberto

12/11/19

Reviews

[MCS]

This hit too close to home, well done my poet friend.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, MCS,
j.

[Fran Marie]

I can relate..my pen seems to steer itself into the sad realm of life more often than I would like..it's filled to the brim with the darks inks waiting to be written..

Christmas Cheers
dear friend

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your words, Fran Marie...and Christmas Cheers back at you, my friend.
j.

[Beccy]

Reading this, and the replies made by others, I am reminded of a conversation I had with my father not so long back. We were discussing the great classics of literature and how the desire for such has been diluted almost to nothing over the past several decades. He remarked that in his day, the question a teacher would be likely to ask of a pupil, was what Dickens story was he currently reading; whereas today, the question would more likely be, hands up in class those who know who Charles Dickens was.

Poets live in a bubble of creativity, see things differently to others; and I am minded that sadly, the vast majority of those who read and enjoy poetry, are poets themselves;who in fortunate counter balance, have imagination on their side, that most powerful ally, which allows us to visualise the seemingly impossible. I for example, have engaged my much mourned and beloved grandma in many an imaginary conversation; and I look forward to the day, (though not too soon,) when we are able to converse for real.

Beccy.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

yes, Beccy, we consort with each other, and we support each other...but outside of our world of poets, not so many takers...and interest in literature has somewhat declined.
i am lucky....i teach poetry and short story in my classes...and can somehow get the students interested in poetry...i allow for varied interpretations and they start feeling comfortable taking the journey....makes me smile...some of them even start writing some and showing me what they are doing.
but you are write, poets have each other and that is about it.
and i really miss my parents and some very close friends who are gone...and i, too, hope to see them again someday...oh the conversations we would have.
thank you so much for sharing...and i know who Charles Dickens was...(an olympic swimmer, right?) :)))))

[Beccy]

No, you getting confused jacob. He was the half brother of Little Jimmy Dickens, the country and music singer; and played lead guitar in his band, the Pickwick Pickers. :))

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Oh God yes, that's right, now I remember....thanks for setting me straight on that. Charles never did have the voice Jimmy did.
j.

[Einstein Noodle]

happy poems are hard to write for some ... I am one of them .. and humorous the same ... good on ya for trying sir! ;} spilled ink hearts black and blue pens on fire, oh my!!! i really like the turn with "..imagined lines.." making a connection ... imagination like dreams can wander anywhere .. like this one a lot ..
E.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind review, E,
j.

[Leslie Philibert]

This is full of delightful melancholy and irony, and is how I am, one who needs to be depressed and negative to survive...we poets are tortured souls, but we need to be. Great poem.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

yes, tortured souls....afraid that might be the truth...
thank you for your words, Leslie,read moreyes, tortured souls....afraid that might be the truth...
thank you for your words, Leslie,
j.

[Lorry]

I was already nodding by the end of the first line Jacob, but rather prematurely as it transpires that yours has a little more credence to it than where my head went.
I was picture my own irritations and distractions from writing anything that could be filed under meaningful, the weather, a cross words resulting silence, or oh so many more. But your disconnection was a little more than someone not calling or changing their number and forgetting to tell you. These are truly the moments when the pen seems so unmighty that we forget what it is even for.
I am suitably ashamed at my own presumptive trifling thoughts.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

on the contrary...very real thoughts ...and i can so relate to where you went with this piece...thank you, Lorry...
the pen does have more importance than that for which we give it credit.
j.

[andrew mitchell]

Yes the great divide from loved ones past and loved ones still living comes to mind but I also considered us poets maybe in decline as it always had a minority following.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

yes, the minority following...always hard to sway an audience who just seem to want exciting novels to read.
thank you for understanding, andrew,
j.

[Paul Bell]

You sort of imagine that uneasy meeting, that coming together, the words that don't really deliver the right meaning at that moment in time. Maybe that's why we build big fires to erase memories.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, Paul...appreciate your visit and words,
j.

[Chris Shaw]

Black and blue together make me think of bruises. This poem is filled with sadness. Maybe of something which ended before it should have done, which leaves the heart pining for what could have been. Death makes that so final. I can feel some pain here Jacob.

Chris

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i like where you went with this, Chris...thank you,
j.

[Jimmy Yetts]

Sounds like some form of love, from afar--perhaps, forced love from afar.
Lovers must, at times, settle for what they can get.
Broken hearts appear to be your involuntary specialty.
The blues, well sung, Jacob.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

you remind me of Stephen Stills' song..."if you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with."
thank you,
j.