every wanna be writer's hero

every wanna be writer's hero

 

 

disenchanted keepsakes

an unpolished silver cross

lain neatly against a cold chest

a casket of lies buried in his honor

 

figurative sanctions like broken promises

violation of trust

impending truth banished from its kingdom

before the onslaught of evidence

 

in retrospect

there is a softening of the self-indulgence

but there are still lip prints on the bottle's rim

his dunk shots no longer statistics, just shallow "meant to's"

 

he bled in whiskey coagulation

slammed his fist into lovers' breasts

and wore a musty breath

behind drunken eyes

 

his pen stayed steady

although in-congruent

the letters two sheets to the wind

his words a distorted memory.

 

 

erin-cilberto

1/15/19

Reviews

[barleygirl]

Seeing Coyote John's review, then reading your poem, remembering how John writes often about his "Hemingway" life, & me with the Big Sur writing community a strong presence, not to mention living in Steinbeck country . . . it all came together like a swirling tapestry of earnest longing in my heart. The way we writers must dredge up the very details that destroy us, to thrive! (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, Margie...i really appreciate you...one of the really good souls on this site.
j.

[barleygirl]

Thanks! *smile*

[Coyote Poetry]

You are right Jacob. Us, who want to live, want the Hemingway life till we receive a glimpse of his life. Your words solid and true my friend. Thank you for sharing the amazing poetry.
Coyote

[jacob erin-cilberto]

so true, thanks Coyote...
Hemingway wrote what he lived and lived a lot of what he wrote...had to be painful moments.
j.

[Coyote Poetry]

Yes he did and you are welcome Jacob.

[AYVID N]

There’s something about great writer’s. As if there lives have to be crumpled to keep that pen steady on paper. As if everything has to burn to fuel their letters. Appreciated very much...

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, DIVYA,
j.

[Lydia Shutter]

Ah yes, all too many authors and poets led seedy lives, but we still enjoyed their words...never judging the men behind the pen. They lived lives that were tortured really and yet their words were gold. Were they heroes? I am not sure they deserve that title, but many "wanna be" poets still look up to them. Lydi**

[jacob erin-cilberto]

yes, like Bukowski and Ted Hughes...never thought much at all for Bukowski's words and never understood why so many loved his stuff...Hughes was a great poet...i just can't get past how he treated Sylvia...
thank you for your insights, as always, my friend,
j.

[Beccy]

Poe, Joyce, Hemingway, Thomas, Bukowski, the list is endless; but I am drawn to the latter, as I am drawn to the wonderful truth in his poem 'So you want to be a writer.'

Beccy.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for sharing that, Beccy,
j.

[Lorry]

This has a feeling of the respectability versus the reality of the life behind the pen, where the blemishes are removed as little more than part of their art. Their words remembered become the person, and remembered as suffering for his art, when in truth the life he lived is not only his suffering. Like writing their own obituary, the words embelish the life and the real person forgotten.
Such a stupid romantic notion we have of ourselves. My best friend has promised my eulogy will be called that dick Lorry, but whether that transpires I will have no clue.

This brought images of the Irish poets and hellraisers, who I am sure their families wouldnt recognise in their words.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your words and how you shared the thoughts written in the poem, Lorry,
j.

[Chris Shaw]

Much sadness here. The whiskey no doubt numbing the pain, but the pen stayed steady. All life's experiences potentially a poem. Good to see you posting Jacob.

Chris

[jacob erin-cilberto]

as Melanie wrote and sang.."i am not a poet, living is the poem." thank you, Chris
j.

[Sami Khalil]

Writers can be heroes like soldiers, heirs to widowers and fallen to injuries and sutures. They can get drunk from romance, feelings sink and sunk and beholden to the truth, none candebunk. I feel sadness in your words, heroism and patriotism. You are amazing, soldier of the pen.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your very kind words, Sami,
j.

[Sami Khalil]

You are welcome, sir Jacob.