a life of many edits

a life of many edits

 

 

 

baby talk spilled out of the crib

clicking sounds

gnashing of teeth

forming infant words inaudible

but poetry starts with a few cries

rolls over on its stomach

pauses

burps all over open mic.

 

rides bicycles and plays in the mud

like any kid would

then finds itself mired in books

those college days

scribbling itself in notebooks

painting the poet's sky

with graffiti 

that means more than all the college education

that has to be regurgitated

like a meal that didn't sit right in the pit

of introspection

 

then grew old

and gray

and softer in mettle

in the middle of last gasps

the keys still make noises

forming infant words inaudible

once again

 

until poetry ends with one last click

and life signs out.

 

 

erin-cilberto

11/1/23

Reviews

[John the Baptist]

An interesting look at the life of poetry here. It starts out like baby talk and finally ends the same way. In the interim, it experiences the playful exuberance of the child. It is when poetry is studied in formal education that it really takes off, painting the sky with graffiti. In old age it reverts to baby talk. In the true poet, it lingers until the end.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Yes, all the way to the end...even as the poet dies, his or her poetry might hopefully live on.
read moreYes, all the way to the end...even as the poet dies, his or her poetry might hopefully live on.
Thank you, John.
j.

[AYVID N]

Life comes a full circle and so does poetry. The conclusion was very sad to read but the signing out by life is inevitable for all, one day. As for the regression of poetry to babyhood, that's a true death. I hope I sign out of life before I'm forced to give up poetry to a failing mind. This is such a moving poem, dear Jacob. Filled with your brilliant poetic light.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you for your very kind review, Divya,
j.