Life, the Oval track

Life, the Oval track

i am an old man, as such

my life in a final turn

the track has been picturesque

the landscape most interesting

i find solace and wisdom in age

respect knocks on the door

long silver locks

keep some secrets

disclose others

impart stories 

with poetry leaning in final stages

i must politely bow

and take my leave

i am an old man, as such

the checkered flag

near the gates

do wonder if they will open for me

or if i will be dissuaded

and asked to drive on.

erin-cilberto

11/12/21

Reviews

[Fran Marie]

I think as poets we all
must keep going/ writing
for as long as possible even
when life approaches the
final turn in the race..the
pen may still be running
with residual ink.. "one more
over the line".the finish line..

Nice Work

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, dear poet...
j.

[Relic]

I figure I have about 20 more years to go if I persist at writing and learning the trade. Hopefully I'll improve and find out the formula to writing poetry that makes me happy.

I suppose some writers - or anyone who loves what they do - worries that time is running out or that the end is near when they get to a certain age. But others write with the intention to keep going until they can no longer hold the pen. I like that idea, and I like this poem a lot.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I appreciate your thoughts on this one, Relic.
and you already are good...but I feel we all strive to get better, and to write one great poem that will secure our memory in the poet world.
j.

[John the Baptist]

As I understand it, when the race really is over they take the car away from you. That notwithstanding, I believe the homestretch can be the most interesting part of the race, as long as you don't look back too much.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I probably look in that rear view mirror a bit too much...I will try not to.
thank you, John,
j.

[Betty Hermelee]

One more lap around the oval would be heaven, but no, not this time; this time you will be looking at different gates to drive through; “ my life is in a final turn( great metaphor); I would guess a final turn for everything; I like your repetition “ I am an old man as such”…….accept your limitations….oh but that’s not possible….great comment and chosen words for this piece J
Best
B.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

you are so kind Betty...thank you. And yes, as Clint Eastwood said in Magnum Force..."a man's got to know his limitations"----
j.
j.

[Betty Hermelee]

Not just a man, me too!
Best
B.

[light and ashes]

Love the way you write, jacob.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, light,
j.

[light and ashes]

You are welcome.

[Julie McCarthy (juliesp..]

Beautiful poem Jacob
I love this
Hope you are well. I read you saw Simon and Garfunkel they are a fave of mine must of been beautiful to see them and hear

[jacob erin-cilberto]

It was amazing seeing them....My heroes for sure.
and thank you on the poem.
j.

[Julie McCarthy (juliespenhere)]

Yes they were my first lp I bought as a mid teen

[Kerra]

impart stories
with poetry leaning in final stages

I love these lines here, as you say you take a bow next, I see this as someone growing tried
but not fully retiring words in the art of poetry. This is very well written Jacob, like this a lot

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind review, Kerra,
j.

[Gee]

Another lap at near pedestrian pacewith the sun roof open, arm resting on an open window and your favourite song playing on the radio :))
Good afternoon Jacob, hope you are well.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

yes, such good memories...
thank you, Gee...
well here. and you?

[Zoe Richardson]

"I am just a poor man, though my story seldom told. I have squandered my resistance for a pocket full of mumbles, such are promises." I catch the hint of this in your words here. You wonder, as you go into that final stretch, whether you have something meaningful to take with you wherever you are going next. What are your treasures? Where are they stored? Only you can answer that, my friend. But I hope you are not in a hurry to find out!

[jacob erin-cilberto]

no hurry, just a poem...but I like your reference immensely...."In the clearing stands a Boxer and a fighter by his trade, and he carries the reminders of every glove that laid him down or cut him till he cried out in his anger and his shame, I am leaving, I am leaving, but the fighter still remains"
I still remain to write as long as there are words in me, Zoe...thank you so much for this reply.
I saw S&G November 8, 1969....the best...and they have a CD called Simon and Garfunkel live in 1969.....five of the songs, the most, come from that concert...gives me such chills to listen to them.
j.

[Zoe Richardson]

Simon and Garfunkle are poetry. I fell in love with them when I was very small, and continued that love. My favorite songs, though, are not their best known ones. Richard Corey. For Emily, Wherever I May Find Her. Kathy's Song. It's actually the pattern of words in "For Emily, Wherever I May Find Her" that inspired some of my own efforts. They had a way of saying things, of making poetry accessible, even desirable, that I admire so much.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

"I wandered empty streets down past the shop displays, I heard cathedral bells drifting through the alley ways, as I walked on"
that is my all-time favorite of theirs...and Kathy's Song is probably my second....love Richard Corey and Most peculiar Man...
When I saw them in concert, I was mesmerized...

I had a best friend in college, Jane...the combination of her poetry and Simon And Garfunkel is what started me writing poetry in 1970...and another favorite I bet you like is "Flowers never bend with the rainfall"?

[Zoe Richardson]

I think one of my very favorites is "Time it was and what a time it was, a time of innocence, a time of confidences. Long a go it must seem, I take a photograph, preserve your memory, it's all that's left me." On the surface, the words seem basic. But encapsulated in them are the heart and soul of grief and loss and longing. Of remembering something you loved that is gone, and the ache that comes with knowing all you have of that time is a photograph. Every time I hear that simple chorus, it creates this storm of melancholy inside me, and has since the very first time I heard it. Two things started me on the road to writing poetry. My father, reading from his college textbooks when I was three or four years old. He read The Raven, and Emily Dickinson, and other poets of such immense influence. And hearing Simon and Garfunkle on the radio. Their lyrics transported me, and have stood as a benchmark for all I think of as good writing.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

similar beginnings we share, Zoe....
"my thoughts are scattered and they're cloudy, they have no borders, no boundaries...they echo and they swell from Tolstoy to Tinker Bell, down from Berkley to Carmel...they don't know where they're going and my friend neither do I ."

[Zoe Richardson]

And then there's the geriatric version of Simon and Garfunkle. "Hello darkness, my old friend. I stood up too fast again!" Or something like that...

[barleygirl]

It's hard to kick that haunting feeling you describe, of having one foot out the door, feeling like every story ends with a dangling goodbye (((HUGS)))

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Yeah, it's like that....thank you, Margie.
j.