still life that is still life in the eyes of a child

still life that is still life in the eyes of a child

 

 

thumbnail sketch

barn swallows circling

bales of hay

a bed for ragged kittens

the paint peeling

red to rust to gray

 

to memories

of Vermont sixty years

the stanchions now tattered wood

an excited boy

watching as the cows took their place

at the table

 

served their milk

in pasteurized dream

just the other side of the fence

blackberries lingered

waiting for the pail

soon to become jam

 

restless hammock

a storm's coming

afternoon nap just off the horizon

 

that old Plymouth

knew the way

every year, every summer

every illogical moment

that made perfect sense to a seven-year old

who barely noticed that barn losing color.

 

 

erin-cilberto

3/7/23

Reviews

[Soren]

How our views change over time. The innocence and simplicity of childhood that we can only return to through memory or the observation of another child. How full of peace and surrounded by safety are most of our childhood memories. I loved the fantasy of cows taking their place at the table and the obliviousness of barely noticing the barn lose its color.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your words, Soren,
j.

[Chris Shaw]

What beautiful memories you have of Vermont when you were a child. I know how much you liked those cows too J. I was reminded of blackberry picking and stained fingers and bramble scratches. My mum made jam too. A very special poem is this. A favourite.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I bet her jam was amazing...
thank you, Chris,
j.

[AYVID N]

Dear Jacob,

Life has such magic in a child's eyes. Perhaps, only children are allowed this enchanted beauty.

restless hammock
a storm's coming
afternoon nap just off the horizon

So brilliant, my friend. I loved all the simple yet priceless joys you mentioned in the poem. We lived in a heaven that faded little by little as we grew up.

A very beautiful poem...

[jacob erin-cilberto]

amen, divya...it sure did fade,
j.

[Ken e Bujold]

this is a fabulous poem J. with every line i was returning to my own childhood, the annual summer visit-vacation to my grandparents farm where the exact same memories got lodged inside my head, though you have done a far greater job of capturing them on paper than i ever have to date.

thanks for the stroll backwards in my mind

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind words, Ken,
j.

[W. Barrett Munn]

reflections of life remembered. none of us see the change when too close. reminds me of my dad’s father inArkansas with chickens living under the house and a barn.

Winston

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for sharing that memory, Winston,
j.

[Betty Hermelee]

A fine textured painting of a young boy who sees life so different from us old folks.... maybe this is your life like a work of art looking back on such pleasing events; like the way you weave your colors in and out of this boy's perspective. love the imagery...milk, blackberries, jam....all the tastes of home....memories of a precious painting... which endures in the mind.
Lovely J.
Best, B

[jacob erin-cilberto]

they were the best days...thank you, Betty,
j.

[Betty Hermelee]

I bet they were J.
You're welcome
Best, B

[Perdition]

I think it's the covered bridges myself but my dream was, and still is when I lived in that barn, and who but a cowhand would know of stanchions? Ya took me back to a time in Texas actually, just an hour North outside Austin on what seemed a billion acres: walking with four dogs into the smell of cattle that became something more than sacred. It's a part of me forever...still time enough left to build another one I'm hoping. This poem is the gift of imagery at its finest. One of my favorite states as well. The memories are "still life" perfect and too many to name. A pleasure J. A true pleasure to read!

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for sharing your memory, Perdition,
j.

[Lorry]

Memories of childhood do seem to be set deep within our mind, where the How's and whys have no space and fading paintwork is as vibrant as it ever was.
It seems the How's and whys come later to our minds, when we wonder and ponder if things really were as idyllic as they seem. Compared to now, yes they were.
We could run all day and I think I only ever sat down as a child at school and the rest was spent lying on the carpet in front of the TV watching cartoons. Now I'd much rather have a "Dad" seat any day.
To be seven again, watching those weird grownups making life so hard. Who knew we'd grow up, eh? 😊

[jacob erin-cilberto]

we never thought we would....thank you, Lorry,
j.

[Dave Brown]

back to the days when innocence prevailed and fantasies were real
Reminds me of all the old cars that used to be around the place and the old barn that finally just collapsed leaving the barn swallows looking for another place to call home

[jacob erin-cilberto]

poor barn swallows, displaced.
thank you, Dave,
j.

[Tom]

Creative literary work idealizing former rural life as seen through the eyes of a seven year old youngster, such fond memories forever etched into the psyche, delightfully worded poet friend Jacob!

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, Tom...those were my favorite days and it was my favorite place.
j.