pour me another poem, please

pour me another poem, please

 

 

she was just pieces of herself

lost nights

another bottle waiting for dawn

her guitar soaked with beer

and blank pages of her life

 

flames consumed what was left

she was just pieces of herself

and the blue tips

of those flames

 

the liquor cabinet

(almost empty)

would never give away her secrets

 

and the smoke filled residue

of her existence

was a few cursive poems

 

and a glamorous black and white photo

of her better days

 

before the puzzle began unraveling 

and our hearts laid her to rest.

 

 

 

erin-cilberto

10/15/17

Reviews

[Kristina Moulaison]

This is wonderful! Loved, "She was just pieces of herself," repeating...the idea that she did not do all that she wanted to with her life with its "blank pages," songs not written. Her life reduced to "a few cursive poems" and old photographs, looking back at "better days." Really good. I am always inspired to write better after reading your words. Thanks!

[jacob erin-cilberto]

you are very kind with your review, Kristina.

thank you.

j.

[Alfred Kukitz]

Another and another so I may lay her with my heart to rest.
Unusual beauty!

Regards,
Al

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your words, Al.

j.

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

People use many things to deal with loneliness but reading a poem that we can relate to is the best friend in that situation.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your words, Dale.
j.

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Oh how loneliness, alcohol and poetry make great bedfellows. Sounds rather Plathish but that may be my ignorance of the full story. Whatever another stunning piece which you consistently feed us with and we consume with vigour!

[jacob erin-cilberto]

actually about a friend....but fits Plath in many ways...thank you, John.
j.