For L. Ferlinghetti (1919-2022)

For L. Ferlinghetti (1919-2022)

 

 

 

Yellow is the color of

the solid highway line

that is illegal to cross

when the curves of life

are imminent

and the signs say don't breech

 

in youth, we made two lanes into three

the imaginary one

took us gambling in an arsenal of smokey rings

and joints passing as eateries 

where the eggs flipped hearts over easy

and the waitress sang the blues

 

White is the color of

the dotted lines

where we signed on to freedom

in between the spaces

but never read the fine print

that it would all end soon

and we still had not passed

our ideals on to the millennial's

 

as the perennials bloomed

but not in the flower child's hair

that was now old and graying

 

the blacktop has no color now

we took an exit to a marginal existence

dumped the flower pots

from the back of the pickup

 

flipped the last smoke out the window

and drove the speed limit

into forever.

 

 

erin-cilberto

5/3/23 

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

Jacob, the poem is so good. I had to read again.
"as the perennials bloomed
but not in the flower child's hair
that was now old and graying"
I loved the above lines. I believe life is many colors and we become many people in a lifetime. Thank you my friend for sharing the outstanding poetry.
Coyote

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, Coyote...I try to pay homage to the poets who inspired me to start writing my own.

thank you.

[E.P. Robles]

Hello erin-cilberto. I sincerely hope you do not mind my extensive review of your poem. I love poetry and it gives me great joy to read and respond to great poets.

Review:

THIS evocative poem titled "Colors of Life's Highway" skillfully employs colors to symbolize different aspects of the human experience and the journey through life.

I found it simply wonderful!

The poem opens with the color yellow, representing the solid highway line that is forbidden to cross. This line serves as a metaphor for boundaries and limitations in life. The reference to its illegality emphasizes the consequences of recklessly challenging or crossing these boundaries when the curves of life, symbolizing challenges or uncertainties, are imminent.

The signs caution against breaching these limits, urging us to exercise caution and respect.

In the next stanza, the poet reflects on youth and the audacity to transform two lanes into three, symbolizing the rebellious spirit and desire to explore uncharted territories. The imaginary lane becomes a metaphorical gateway to a realm of adventure and risk-taking, where the poet gambles in an "arsenal of smokey rings" and visits joints disguised as eateries. Here, the imagery of "eggs flipped hearts over easy" and the blues-singing waitress evoke a sense of nostalgia, capturing the essence of carefree moments and the bittersweet memories of youth.

The poem then shifts to the color white, which represents the dotted lines on the highway. These lines signify the choices we make, embracing the freedom and opportunities presented between the spaces. However, the poet acknowledges that the fine print, often overlooked, reveals that this journey of freedom and exploration will eventually come to an end. The poet expresses regret at not having effectively passed down their ideals to the millennial generation, implying a missed opportunity to impart wisdom and inspiration to future generations.

The mention of perennials blooming but not adorning the flower child's hair conveys the passage of time and the transformation of the counterculture ideals of the past into something more subdued and mature. The flower child's hair, once vibrant and symbolic of a rebellious spirit, has now turned gray and aged, marking the passing of an era.

In the final stanza, the poet describes a blacktop devoid of color, emphasizing the loss of vibrancy and vitality. They mention taking an exit to a marginal existence, symbolizing a departure from a life filled with youthful exuberance and settling into a mundane reality. The act of discarding flower pots from the back of a pickup suggests a relinquishment of the past and a distancing from the ideals that once held significance.

The poem concludes with a poignant image of flicking the last smoke out the window and driving the speed limit into forever. This final act represents a resignation to the passage of time and the acceptance of a more restrained and regulated existence. The notion of driving into forever suggests an ongoing journey, even if it lacks the thrill and spontaneity of the past.

In conclusion, "Colors of Life's Highway" is a deeply reflective and introspective poem that explores the themes of youth, freedom, passage of time, and the compromises we make along our journey. The poet's skillful use of colors and imagery evokes a sense of nostalgia and wistfulness, inviting readers to contemplate their own experiences and the choices they have made. It is a beautiful piece of poetry that captures the universal longing for meaning and the complexities of the human condition.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you very much for this extensive review, E.P. Robles----
j.

[red93]

Fabulous Work Jacob - What a time it was to be young. I was in a millennium Anthology - titled 'The Book of Hope' - with Ferlinghetti back in the day - those guys could certainly teach today's Youth a thing or two ✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Being in an anthology with Lawrence...I would be proud of that for sure.
j.

[emmajoygreen]

I feel this poem, imagine the wods would be rough yet honest.. as are the shape of your stanzas,

' White is the color of
the dotted lines
where we signed on to freedom
in between the spaces
but never read the fine print
that it would all end soon
and we still had not passed
our ideals on to the millennial's'

Such is life seen through your eyes and mind with touches of a name I need learn about - all thanks to you, sir. Your ending touches home.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, em, and I hope you enjoy old Lawrence...I think you would like his work.
j.

[emmajoygreen]

I like the touch and mood of books rather than Kindle etc so, have two to come from our local library!! Will let you know, jacob. Many thanks for the inspiration .:)

[Nima.Hope]

I didn't know anything about the man, thank you for introducing him to us.
I can feel your admiration for him, I wish happiness for you sir.
Nice tribute

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you, Nima, hope you enjoy his work.
j.

[Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn..]

Jacob,

Thou hast set to pen of page a powerfully contemplative memorial and tribute to someone whom you quite obviously cared for and admired ... Bravo! ...

Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn de Graham

[jacob erin-cilberto]

He was one of my major influences, Marvin.
Thank you for your kind words,
j.

[Patricia Wedel]

dear Jacob… your metaphors are Je t” adores… forevermore… wishing you Grace and Meadows of Summers slumber under an Umbrella … softly, Pat

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for the kind words, dear Pat,
j.

[Sami Khalil]

A great tribute to this wonderful beat poet and an icon of American poetry.
He lived a long life and was influential.
As for eggs, some have it over_easy, others have it hard.
One question sir: Have you met any of the beat poets???

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, Sami...and yes, I met one a few times...Gwendolyn Brooks....fabulous lady she was and such a brilliant poet...first African American to win the Pulitzer and she got it the year I was born...1950....we talked about that coincidence...

[Sami Khalil]

Wow! Amazing indeed. Thank you and God bless.

[AYVID N]

There is always so little time to fully pass on things we learn or know...most of it we carry with ourselves into the unknown...perhaps to be revealed in some other way. The last verse is so haunting. Loved it.

Thank you for the introduction to L. Ferlinghetti.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Oh wow, did you pick up some Lawrence and read....?
You liked him?

[AYVID N]

I did and appreciated some of his poems very much. Its great to discover another great American poet. Thanks to you.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I am so glad you could enjoy his work...

[W. Barrett Munn]

And the saddest part is that it doesn't help to hit the brakes or give up eggs. At some point the pen like a baton, has to be handed off to a new generation.

Winston

[jacob erin-cilberto]

and sometimes when the brakes are hit too hard, the eggs roll off the seat and boom...scrambled poems.
thank you, Winston.
j.