the fiction of being

the fiction of being

snow tires

tread across the grey matter

of my brain with chains

for best traction,

while my thoughts slip away each day

farther down that road of memory

sliding across icy patches of cognizance

once in a moment skidding into an idea

i used to poetry

till they moved me into the home

where we all just sit and stare 

not much tapping going on there

computers sit in vacant lots

writing hiding under blankets

from confusing snowflakes

we are all happy flakes

in our tolerance

of ignorance

and when the drifts fly into our eyes

seconds of traction

move our wheels in the right direction

and we see clearly letters forming

before the highway's become

an impassable fatigue

and we're no longer allowed to drive

with our minds,

keys confiscated for safety.

erin-cilberto

7/3/19

Reviews

[Chris Shaw]

My heart dropped as I read these lines Jacob. Your third stanza hit home hard. I think we all have a fear of ending up like that. I just hope if that ever happens to me I don't suffer the frustration that some older people do. I'd rather be in happy land altogether than in a half way house. Strong piece, gut wrenching. Can't imagine not being able to write.

Chris

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i agree, Chris...when i get there...i don't want to be here...
thanks for the visit...
j.

[Dhaye]

I am deeply touched by this piece...as I reflect on how we writers will end our journey.
This piece speaks of reality.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind words, Dhaye.
j.

[alanwgraham]

Yes Jacob - I know that feeling more often know. The brain is a funny thing and can play strange tricks on us. Who are we - that's impossible to answer! I'm feeling oldish now at 68 but my mother had another 25 years on me with her memories playing tricks in strange and fascinating ways. I must say that since I started writing seriously a few years ago exploring the idea of 'self' is behid most of what I've written. Anyway you have contributed to this here in a very thought provoking and poetic way.
Regards,
Alan

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i appreciate your kind review, Alan....and sharing that about your mom...mine had the same issues her last few years as did my dad.
and the brain is a funny thing...i am 69 and hoping i float away before my mind does.
thanks again for the read and the words,
j.

[alanwgraham]

Thanks Jacob. I've just noticed I used 'had' for my mum. Happy to report that she's is still going strong!

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I took it she was still among us...glad she is still going strong.

[gram linski]

good poem, I liked the snowblind interaction within brain and inertia, not allowed to drive with our minds, great line, keys confiscated for safety, as a health and safety officer, I should f*****g think so,

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, gram,
j.

[poetgurl]

we are all happy flakes
in our tolerance
of ignorance
and when the drifts fly into our eyes

I think I really love these lines here, so much truth in these words and what John says is true as well. This is so well written.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind words, Kimmie,
j.

[John Alexander McFadyen]

I think Jacob you metamorphasise the allegory. Take it to new levels with each write. This has so many pictures in it as we imagine the scene in the nursing home and contemplate the inability to do the things we used to. I guess the idea of slowed thoughts and dementia and being unable to drag those snow bound words across the page are real for many.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind review, John,
j.