it wasn't really like it was, was it?

it wasn't really like it was, was it?

 

 

 

the far away little boy

in the City of paradox,

the country within the hot asphalt heart

 

windows open wide to the sound of the Harlem River

the speed boats dotting the waves like ink spots

swirls of cursory magic, letters to be written into poems

 

but years later, the concrete becomes abstract

a warm winter night,

the magic returns with a quarter moon's logic

 

 

somewhere in a borough a thousand miles away

there is an imprint on an old street

by an apartment where an approximate, aged poet

 

sees his younger reflection

shuts his window of imagination

and puts down his pen.

 

 

erin-cilberto

12/16/15

Reviews

[alifeacoustic]

The reflection is always cruel to the minds eye. Looking back, we look not only at what we were, but what we stood for. Remembering the thoughts and hopes of that younger self is often much crueller to us than the reflection we see in the mirror. But sometimes, we realise maybe we are too hard on ourselves too.
Captivating write, as always.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your insightful words, alife...

j.

[Cryingkate]

I think somewhere in everyone's timeline we look back and wonder about the views, dreams ambitions and ask ourselves: "What For" Maybe that's when we are getting ready to check out from being worn out.
Dreams and goals are what keeps us going. I think it's a good gauge that maybe we "ought" be watchful of.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

appreciate your insightful reply, Connie.
thank you, yes, on that worn out thing.

read moreappreciate your insightful reply, Connie.
thank you, yes, on that worn out thing.

j.

[David Scott]

Well, this sounds like a poet I know...
I would think while life still quivers you must answer the call of inspiration. You could pretend to be deaf, but it would be a self deception.
Anyhow, one hopes one is mistaken and the writer is projecting dramatic fiction rather than literal tragedy.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your words, David.

j.