Clark Kent on the Keyboard

Clark Kent on the Keyboard

 

 

a kryptonite poet

falls from the sky

his powers of flight

apprehended by a muse

 

his landing is not soft

the lyrics provide 

broken bones of bereavement

his pen parachutes into poverty

 

now his fractured words

sit poorly, not straight

the strength ebbs from his body of work

his cape burns into rubble

 

a book of his poems

shoots a flame towards a cloud

but falls short

the pages just flapping in the wind

 

of wishes to still be as good

as his word. 

 

 

erin-cilberto

4/25/24

Reviews

[Andrew John]

How dare you link Kent with Superman? You know you can never see them in the same room at the same time. Interesting poem, too! (Red kryptonite can do some funny stuff!)

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Ha ha, Shame on me.
Thanks, Andrew,
j.

[Fabian G. Franklin]

We grasp for immortality with fishing lines of words and bated breath or maybe in this metaphor, "baited breath". We want to hook the reader, the editor, the publisher and fame. I'd like to swing on a star and carry moonbeams home in a jar. I miss that old Bing Crosby tune. I think the poet will do just fine. The living Van Gogh couldn't sell a painting, except to his brother. Dead poets are always sought after. Who knows? All my best, F.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

too bad poets don't get that recognition while alive...
It would be nice to know people might like our writings.
j.

[Chris Shaw]

Clark Kent will always remain a hero in my poetry book, and the reach of his poems nothing short of sky high. A super metaphor dear J. A relatable poem for poets who beat themselves up, questioning their own ability.

Chris

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I will never figure out that phenomena...poets beat themselves up more than other kinds of writers.
thank you, Chris,
j.

[Soren]

Ah now here is metaphor incapsulated within metaphor all united under the image of a superhero, as all poets would wish to be. The realization of weakness damages the ego. Critics and lack of recognition devastating and the end recognition that one does not measure up to the ideals that one has set. A most clever play on words at the end. You paint the common illness of poets, which in virtually all cases is fatal.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

there has to be a cure...perhaps we will find it one day...and poets can survive.
thank you, Soren,
j.

[Patricia Wedel]

I am only a small Bee… 🐝 I love to sip the nectar of your poetry… softly, Pat

[jacob erin-cilberto]

but an important Bee, Pat.
thank you for your kind comment,
j.

[Lorry]

Your words are never fractured Jacob, well not in any other place but your mind.
We are our own worst enemies sometimes and the muse gets called all sorts for it, but it is most likely just us trying to reach perfection every time, which was news to me because I thought it was called prefection!
Those landings can be bumpy though, can't they?

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Very bumpy...
thank you for the encouragement, Lorry,
j.

[Poetic Beauty]

Oh how we love to criticize our own work and think it is rubbish when the exact opposite is true.

I love the use of using a super hero and the pages flapping in the wind. Beautiful work

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you so much for these words,
j.

[Poetic Beauty]

You are welcome

[keith]

FINALLY!
the crazed poet with tattered word brush
shows the true illumination of an 'inner maynard g krebs'
you wear the image well my friend
you do it honor!

[jacob erin-cilberto]

nice reference to Dobie Gillis...
I think I am somewhat crazy at this point...crazy to keep writing and crazy to think what I am writing is worth a damn.
j.

[keith]

put it on the shelf and give both yourself and your pen a break
doesn't have to be a sabbatical ... just a defined amount of time that only you know it's value
and crazy and so damn bad ... it creates additional elbow room
i know that your numbers speak loud of the base that formed because ... spoiler alert! .. a bunch of them still keep on reading what you bring to the table
that crazy thing is my go to!
you see how that's worked for me HA!
bob denver sez hea!

[mou]

The only difference is that now we know who is the 'Clark Kent' among the poets! The title reminds me of some sweet childhood memories but the content makes the landing delightedly heavy with the weight of thoughts.
- mou

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you for your kind words, mou,
j.