the almost poems...

the almost poems...

 

 

millions of cold sound bytes

exhaling breath-full words

abounding

but frozen before sounding

 

an idea in inertia's cabin

trying to get warm

sitting by the fire fermenting

perhaps in spring

 

we will find out what the poet

attempted to express

before his February

came much too soon.

 

quiet is a season

of blank pages

shivering in a wind-chilled

good night.

 

 

 

erin-cilberto

12/25/2020

Reviews

[Ayvid N]

This is so me....Ideas frozen, words jumbled, fog thick and painful.
More chill than warmth
more goodnights than goodmornings...

[jacob erin-cilberto]

wow, we ARE a pair, aren't we, my friend....
I am really a jumble...
Sorry you could relate so well.
j.

[barleygirl]

I don't have many "almost" poems . . . I'm pretty driven to hack it out until the end, even when I don't know where I'm going thru most of it. I had the weirdest vision as I was reading your poem & I apologize if there's no excuse for the gore stuck in my head. I read many books about outdoor adventuring & of the Mt. Everest variety, there are now hundreds of dead bodies shy of the summit, none can be carried down, so these disgusting killing fields get covered in snow, then later the snow melts & reveals all these "almosts" . . . I'm only guessing, but I believe there are a few of my favorite cafe poets who might feel like they are scanning such killing fields at times. Your poem is a blizzard of provocation (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[jacob erin-cilberto]

oh damn, you caught me scanning...so accurate, Margie.
thank you,
j.

[andrew mitchell]

I feel all my poems are almosts. Yes the amateur writer writes many writes that either sees the light of day or is shelved as one that never made the grade. But it’s still so much fun like fishing you just never know what fish you will hook. Some days you’re left empty other days what a catch!

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I love fishing even if I catch nothing...guess I like writing even if I write nothing.
thank you, andrew.
j.

[andrew mitchell]

me too.................

[Chris Shaw]

Ah, the almosts. The near misses, sitting biding their time hoping for a revisit. Some do get a revisit, but most don't. Wasted thoughts, wasted words. Oh my have I wasted alot of time Jacob. That's where you took me.

Chris

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you for taking the ride Chris.
I just realized I think I wrote the opposite of 'Night"
here in this poem.
I thought "Night" would be hated...very surprised it was fairly well received.
j.

[Delmar Cooper]

The virtue of procrastination? Lovely concept, but anything that supports my sloth is well received.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

then, please, feel supported!

j.

[Delmar Cooper]

My jock runneth over.

[Patricia]

Writing about not writing is inspiring in itself and we have to until we find a muse in a world that keeps us staying in our four walls . But you make it sound so good.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you, Pat...appreciate YOUR words.
j.

[Vicki T.]

I am drawn to poems about almost writing. Thank you for sharing this. I love the placement of your lines to create a natural read. It's thoughtful and thought provoking. Lots of imagery.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind comments, Vicki.
j.

[Neville]

........................................................ this is one of them poets poems we all write in our heads when the muse is taking a break, innit ... I start loads of em, but never quite get round to................

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, Neville,
j.

[Lorry]

The thoughts that lead me to wishing we were more like etch a sketch, where we could just shake all those filings out our head and start with a blank slate. Come to think of it, why don't we just use etch a sketch, or maybe they could add that option to the next Microsoft Office update 😉

[jacob erin-cilberto]

what a great idea, Lorry...
yes, from now on...I will write my poems with etch-a-sketch...then I can get rid of them as soon as i write them.

[poetgurl]

Love this, that last stanza speaks well,

quiet is a season
of blank pages
shivering in a wind-chilled
good night.

Blank seasons, like blank thoughts, wishing one will a goodnight.
nicely written

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, Ang,
j.