there are memories on Beat Street tonight

 

there are memories on Beat Street tonight

 

 

the slowest taps,

Ferlinghetti is still alive,

he hits keys as if on a manual Corona

 

and drinks one that wets his coaster mind

the words don't come so easily at ninety-something

 

i saw my parents slow down,

they're poetry of movement diminished

fewer words necessary,

a stance, more horizontal on sunny days

 

love doesn't regress

it just moves in tortoise fashion

but still gets to conclusion

 

Lawrence lies awake i'm sure

dreaming of his orations of past prolific

meanderings

and University bows

 

my parents lie together now

in ashen hue,

eternal dreaming

 

their love song still playing in my mind

 

i'd like to talk to Lawrence once,

before he joins them,

i am sure his ancient eyes would release to me

 

words he's long forgotten

how to express,

 

i would be richer for the glimpse of him

my fingers would take one final fast dance

before waltzing into a stone crypt

my computer decomposing

much of what i used to remember

 

and write quickly

before i forget.

 

 

erin-cilberto

8/5/17

Reviews

[Annette Pisano-Higley]

Ferlinghetti, Ginsberg, Burroughs, Kerouac...Beat's onward angels....We have their tortured words, but we need their unworded secrets. We cry out for them. This brilliant and bleeding poem expresses the poet's need for Ferlinghetti's guidance, enlightenment, final wisdom-the spark, the spark, before the light dies...

[jacob erin-cilberto]

really like your words in response to this, Annette.
thank you,
j.

[Lydia Shutter]

I liked the way you remembered your parents in the same poem as some of the greats who have left us with wonderful words. They have inspired....and will continue to. Watching those we love walk their final path is never easy...I know this. The love you still have for your parents is heartwarming. A very revealing poem from you. Lydi**

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind review, Lydi.

j.

[Beccy]

The words don't always come easily even at forty. I would like to think that at ninety something I will have perhaps said all I wish to say; though they will only ever be a fraction of what remains inside.

This is poetry at its best.

Beccy.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for sharing how you relate to this poem Beccy....

j.

[AYVID N]

If only there was a way to reconnect with them...

love doesn't regress
it just moves in tortoise fashion
but still gets to conclusion

Oh for the beautiful hope in these lines.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind words, DIVYA...
j.

[AYVID N]

You are welcome :)

[Cryingkate]

I Think I missed the Mark on this one, but I fancied the thoughts of your Lawrence being my Loved Lawrence Welk and I enjoyed the soft sweetness of your Mom and Dad Waltzing to the Orchestra, Love the line The "Poetry of Music expressing the word, Dance""

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i really enjoyed how you related to this one, Connie.
actually the Lawrence is Lawrence Ferlinghetti...
his poetry danced...

thank you,

j.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

L.F. did many gigs at colleges and universities...where he would read his poetry---

[Cryingkate]

Wow I did take it on a twist :-) Funny how we pick just what we want out of poems and connotate them as desired. Even single words :-)

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i like it when readers can take poems on their own twists....

[Carol Cashes]

"love doesn't regress
it just moves in tortoise fashion
but still gets to conclusion"

Best lines ever. This piece dances and sways...

The decomposing computer in a stone crypt? That's a vision that all writers have whether they know it or not.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind words, Carol.
j.

[William Gardner]

gets a conclusion? maybe? Erin, Everytime, I reach out to you. Because you would be richer for the glimpse, and because a computer decomposes. When I write something I want you to read it, I go to your works to quickly scan something so that you will in turn read my work. That is the arrangement here no? But then I read your work, and I realize that I am not alone, and that I am not alone. I'm forgetting more and more every day.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

none of us, as poets, is alone...we all have brethren
here, comrades here...comrades in words.
thank you, William.
j.

[W.k.kortas]

Poems that are intended to serve as encomiums too often turn into name-dropping travelogues. This, however, is a wonderfully multi-leveled at why Ferlinghetti (and, by extension, the Beats) matter. It takes a good deal of skill to rise above the literary equivalent of the Wikipedia entry (indeed, our mutual friend the good dana is also exceptionally skilled with this type of piece) and make it something rich, something universal.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind review, W.k.

Lawrence is one of my favorite 5 poets, always has been....i just love the feel of his words---the hope, cynicism and sardonic tones...all mixed in one poet...and what he did to help his fellow poets with his City Lights Books...a great human...
as well as poet...i respect and admire him so...and would have given anything to sit and chat with him about poetry and life.
thank you again...
and i feel dana is amazing...
j.

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

Quite a powerful and moving poem... keeping those loved ones that passed on alive in our hearts can be harder that we think cause life now interferes with the wavelengths of our feelings.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind words, Dale.
j.

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Aging is indeed our punishment here on earth. The joke, it seems is on us. We have all wanted to turn back the clock and see the person who is now in a half-life flourish again. But the decrepit decent begins from birth and until science slows the process we are all going to slow and slow and die. A sad piece Jacob.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

so true, John, so true....thank you,
j.