an autumn picture of Dorian Gray

an autumn picture of Dorian Gray 

 

 

i watch summer shed its foliage

the dark blue sedan in my heart's driveway

from disuse,

amassing brown oak leaves, 

once vibrant during the summer of love

 

now the slightest October breeze

and the tree of life stands naked,

wondering if it will withstand

one more winter,

as it tries to live on memories alone

 

while the heart looking through the window's frame

looks the same as ever.

 

 

erin-cilberto

10/31/15

Reviews

[rubie]

how sad that people only see (and judge) what time has done to the physical presence, and not the vibrancy that still exists in our hearts....

amazing piece!!

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, rubie.

j.

[Sami Khalil]

The ugly and the handsome, the corrupt and the pure, the vibrancy and the decay, the known and the forgotten. You have mesmerized us again with your wisdom of the ages...:)..............

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind words, Sami.

j.

[Sami Khalil]

You are welcome. ....:)...........

[Sami Khalil]

You are welcome. ....:)...........

[Fran Marie]

A lovely piece that touches on the aging factor...I like the Dorian Gray take as the heart beats evergreen with eternal hope to carry on just same as always..great poem indeed..

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your words, Fran Marie.

j..

[Cory Barrett]

Oh jacob, you are good...

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, Cory...you are a kind reviewer.
j.

[William Gardner]

Great moment captured. Question, why the title? Love the title, but our friend Dorian had the dichotomy of hidden waste and decay and outward purity- I don't see that reflecting inside the poem- Am I missing it?

[jacob erin-cilberto]

it is reflected in how the person grows old but the heart doesn't---but opposite to how the portrait grew old but the person didn't---just a play on the aging thing from the other story.

thank you for your words, William.
j.

[William Gardner]

That makes sense. I might suggest that Dorian might not be the best choice here with the poem as is, he is so much more closely ascribed to corruption rather than just aging, it leads the reader astray, at least this one. Excellent work as always, after a long day, I do enjoy reading your work. Thank you!

[jacob erin-cilberto]

the memories become more corrupt with age---but we remember them as we want to...but yes, i will ponder your suggestion...thank you, William...

j.

[writing mojo]

"Mr. Gray is ready for you"..ha ha..ha. (a little pun for the fifty shade fans) This piece of inward reflection does show more then trying to control mother nature, more then growing old, but a framing of being one with memories of ones self retold, that dies by the eye, yet forever grows from the soul...excellent piece

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you again, mojo, for your kind reviews and extended visit...

j.

[Beccy]

Every time we love, we give a part of ourselves. The heartbeat is a physical marvel of synaptic electrical impulse; the beating of one's heart is far more complex.

Beccy.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

wow, your comment is better than the poem...so well expressed and so insightful

thank you, Beccy.

j.

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

Every year when autumn begins it always takes me back to years past while I enjoy the present fall.
Clever work sir.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, Dale,
j.

[h d e rushin]

wonderful....Time records our every corrupting sin Jacob. Even the trees outside my house are a year
older. And even though I see how October has made their branches bare, there's a good chance that
spring will once again fill it with leaves and green foliage. We call trees 'trees' because they are un-conspiratorial. But heart, like the picture of Dorian Gray, only looks the same...even when
it can never be.....

great analogy my friend.......and once again, Jacob's master class is in session...dana

[jacob erin-cilberto]

you again are too kind, dana...

i appreciate your words very much.

j.

[W.k.kortas]

The Dorian Gray metaphor is an apt one, with its notion of youth and all its freedoms and foibles, not to mention our own autumn, whree we are poised in that interval between where we are still at least a little of what we once were, while having more than a glimpse of what will be after we are done with all that, or rather it is done with us. Wonderful, wonderful writing.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind review, W.k.

j.