when flutes march on

when flutes march on

 

 

nervous instruments

play tension filled songs

about love

to an audience deaf to the truth

 

 

tender ears

numb to the strings

absorb the percussions

and listen for words

 

that never come

 

 

 

erin-cilberto

5/12/18

Reviews

[Neville]

I am probably missing something both fundamental and or crucial here, but hey, I just don't care because I have my own take on 'When flutes march on' and I love every bit of it.. another splendid write jacob..... Neville

[jacob erin-cilberto]

there is never "missing something"--sure would be interested in Your take...
j.

[Neville]

you are quite right there jacob.. and maybe I will... N

[Fabian G. Franklin]

The insecurities of youth versus the insecurities of age. I don't think I'd trade my settled years for the craziness and wild song of youth now. I'm marching to a much different drum these days. "I've about had it up to here...I ain't got time for a Caribbean cruise, just give me a song and a beer." John Fogerty from Rambunctious Boy.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

love John Fogerty...

thanks for sharing how you related to this, Fabian.
j.

[barleygirl]

This is a stunning statement about our inability (as mere fallible humans) to hear what’s being played out in the name of love. The way we can focus on the in-between screeching rather than the resonant notes being played on guitar strings. This is brilliant! (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your very kind review and reviews in general, Margie...
you make me feel "poetical"
j.

[Jimmy Yetts]

A brilliant metaphor.
Powerful piece!

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, Jimmy.
j.

[marilyn 1225]

the last words are stingingly true beautifully written

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, marilyn...

j.

[emmajoy]

You so often press the Think button, nudging the reader to think on.. ..

Maybe turning from the man-made to the sounds that fly the outdoor.? We can't switch them off, so without realising it, from the first, they become part of our lives, our being. Trembling leaves, air through twigs, waves pon loose pebbles, fluttering this and.. the sound of silence hum.. We find our own words then, don't we?

[jacob erin-cilberto]

yes, we do, em...thanks for your keen insights...appreciate them always...and nice pic.

read moreyes, we do, em...thanks for your keen insights...appreciate them always...and nice pic.

j.

[emmajoy]

Such a difference between sound and noise!

Thank you - pic goes back a bit but, no shades - as requested!

[Crowley]

Wow, that had me thinking of marching bands, war marches and Jethro Tull. I like the "nervous Instrument" that seems to be the melody of the times. And it us dear friend that have to clean up after the procession has passed and provide the words to weary and numbed collective. Great writing!!!

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind review, Crowley.
j.

[sette]

sometimes no matter how we try to adjust in order to match each other, it still fails maybe fate has something to do with that perhaps it is not really meant to be

[jacob erin-cilberto]

so true what you say, sette, so true.
j.

[Chris Shaw]

I felt disconnect and disappointment when I read your words Jacob. People not in tune with each other, a mismatch no less. Hard waiting, and waiting and there is nothing but a deafening silence.

Chris

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your insightful words, Chris.
j.

[Patricia Wedel]

dear Jacob... my daughter-in-law Leilani who is Navajo Indian hand carved a beautiful flute and plays its mournful music do sweetly. I can appreciate your poem. truly, Pat

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i'll bet she plays it beautifully, Pat...love that sound...
thank you for relating.
j.

[Patricia Wedel]

She and my son Robert live in SLC, Utah with my two granddaughters who are half Navajo and half Hungarian and Irish. They will visit us during the Holidays in December here in Virginia and we will hear her 🎶 music in person. truly, Pat