Emily D. staring out her picture window

Emily D. staring out her picture window

the quill chills

after touching the frozen pad

melts as it belts

out a chain of words

that tie a poet to a calling

in the distance a church bell rings

midnight

and time for the words to come calling

the chain rattles

the poet prattles

the quill fills

the page

the poet unravels

in verse

therapy is an ink stained recorder

a session

seven or eight hurriedly written poems

slumber from the strain

the poet's eyes hurt

they are red

the writing frenzy is abed

the quill chills

outside it is 60 degrees and clear

the invisible clouds whisper

iambic tones

forming shapes in curious minds

suddenly it rains

another chain.

erin-cilberto

4/18/24

Reviews

[Julie McCarthy (juliesp..]

I love this so much Jacob
I hope she had plenty of warm shawls

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I am sure she did, Julie, I am sure she did.
j.

[Chris Shaw]

You paint the scene so perfectly with your words here j. I can see her gazing out of her picture window at night, quill in hand, blank page at the ready. So much inspiration from a window view and for a poet that didn’t travel. Such a vivid imagination she had when those thoughts flooded her mind.

suddenly it rains
another chain

and the whole cycle starts again

What tired eyes she must have had writing in dim light for long periods of time.

I like this poem very much and I of course know Emily is special to you. Wonderful piece.

Chris

[jacob erin-cilberto]

So many young aspiring Emily D's...I hope the view is good for them.
thank you, Chris,
j.

[mabel mae]

interesting point of view. i appreciate your use of imagery. really setting a scene in a fee measly *shudders* words. -mabel

[jacob erin-cilberto]

we do use our words like shudders don't we?
Thank you, mabel.
j.

[mabel mae]

they’re so scary!!

[h d e rushin]

In her later poems, those written right before she died, she became a Marsyas or Caitlin Clark. In Greek mythology the satyr and flute player who was defeated in a musical contest and flayed alive by Apollo. And in the modern, the ultra-woman-androgenia-too good to be believed poetesa that others refused to take seriously. We tinkered with her poems in grade school, even reading them out loud before the class because they were short which we misinterpreted as being blunder. Yet is is true dear brother. It was her therapy; her letting go. You are still amazing my friend. dana.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you for your words, dana, but more importantly it is so good to see you again...missed you muchly, and your poetry...
j.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I have followed Caitlin and Paige for their entire careers...they are amazing players...so cool. calm and collected under fire...as I imagine Emily d. to have been.

[emmajoygreen]

What a display of visual imaginings here! The reader looks, reads. Watches the pen move the air, then, sees thought drip slowly down onto the first blank surface. Hasty thoughts unravel one after another until mind blazes with more and yet more inspiration. The eyes, close - poor eyes, turning from blue, green, hazel to sore red and needing rest. If able.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you for your kind review, my friend.
j.

[emmajoygreen]

Always my pleasure and keen interest, sir Jacob.