Photo

Photo

we strove pastures together

holding dreams

in dairy posture

pure white as the milk

we secured from the old jersey cows

do you know me in the city?

barely a glance 

as you walked by

briskly

black tar marring the pavement

I am bidding for you in concrete pleas

you are like a taxi speeding by

leaving me a non-fare

I will just write you letters

postmarked from a highway in between

barbed wire fences, barbed wire windows

keeping love

from trespass

and me from the bypass

joining us on that Vermont farm

now a painting in a sunset

the colors a strained

innocence that did not last

after the gate opened

but the cows were only alive

in old photos.

erin-cilberto

7/8/22

Reviews

[Fabian G. Franklin]

An interesting and nostalgic reflection. I enjoyed the read.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, Fabian,
j.

[Dave Brown]

We live deepish in the country for Van Isle
Daily we drive by cattle, dairy and otherwise.
I lament the future of the cattle who are far too dumb to realize what their future holds while comparatively, the dairy herds live in the lap of luxury.
actually I relate well to thoughts of barbed wire, grass fields and colored sunsets which I have included in many a painting

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I bet those are beautiful paintings....
thank you, Dave,
j.

[MartinK]

Thank you for sharing your writing. What an unsettling view into the dry landmark colored only by cows.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, MartinK....I love when they dot the countryside.
j.

[Coyote Poetry]

A interesting story in the poetry Jacob. I wanted to read and to know more. Thank you for sharing the amazing poetry.
Coyote

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you so much, Coyote,
j.

[Coyote Poetry]

You are welcome Jacob.

[Cherrie]

As a kid my parents always lived in town, but every holiday, summer-break, wedding and funeral revolved around my grandparents farm nestled in the Mark Twain National Forest. My whole goal in life was to live there one day . I never out grew that hope even when I had a cattle ranch of my own. I loved that piece of land and the people. Not until both of my grandparents passed was I freed from that desire/ need. However, the love they gave me for family, the land, and nature will never pass.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I love your story, Cherrie...thank you,
j.

[Stella Armour]

Ah, but that image will live and bring smiles for ever in your mind :)

[jacob erin-cilberto]

oh, it certainly will, Stella...it certainly will...
thank you,
j.

[Robert Trakofler]

It's funny when we grow up in the city the ideal seems to be to live in the country when we grow up in the country we end up wanting to live in the city. I had a very Bipolar existence as a kid my parents divorced when I was 6 and I lived in a very rural setting but would spend weekends in the city with my father and when I was 12 ended up living with him full time so I never really had this feeling that you painted so well of the barbed wire divides... and the longing for a fonder vision LOL, maybe that's what I became... the barbed wire:/

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I appreciate the share, bunny....I guess even though I lived in the Bronx as a kid, I got spoiled by my summers in Vermont...
I loved it so much....it is where my ashes will be scattered...in Tickle Naked Pond, Ryegate VT.
You can google it...beautiful lake surrounded by woods and a great farm.
thank you for replying to this piece, my friend,
j.

[Robert Trakofler]

LOL, I couldn't think of a better-named place to be scattered!

[Dhaye]

Photos tell us different stories or differrent chapters of our life. Good memories make us smile while there are some that make us sad. Sometimes they remind us of how people treated us in the past and that we cannot change.
Thank you for sharing this beautiful piece, sir.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

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

[Shannon]

Life has a way of pressing us down as through a sieve, and many of our most naive and beautiful dreams are left on that rusty screen; Earth is a brutal place. Verse four, I found most moving; our dreams are what we strive for, and although the ideal is never met, god help us all if we ever stop striving for it. Beautiful piece brother.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind review, Shannon,
j.