the forgotten ones

the forgotten ones

 

 

a very rickety desk

the Underwood

sits Over wood

the old keys

savoring the touch

of two-fingered inspiration

 

but the arthritic poet

dementia in his bones

can only gaze through cataracts

at the machine

with which he used to be one

the relationship a consorting

 

of lines, ribbons, carriages

the babies, his poems

many grew up to publish themselves

with a slight nod

to their ancestry

but now they lie on pages

 

almost as old as he

father, sons, daughters

between covers

trying not to get cold

before they are buried

with nary a figment

 

of notoriety.

 

 

erin-cilberto

4/1/25

Reviews

[Vol]

DO NOT GO GENTLE... the night ain't all that good after all...

[DecentlyOkayWriter]

trying not to get cold
before they are buried
. . .
(There's something special here. Maybe that's all I can explain that makes sense.)

I'm not sure why I like this one so much. I am by no means near the end of my life- or, so I hope- but it still sticks with me. I don't understand it in the resonating "I've experienced this, I know this." sort of way, but instead it gives me hope. Is it sick to hope that one day my poems might be mistaken for what they really are, ramblings on a paper, and dismissed without a second thought? I feel as though when I reach that day I'll know I've really become a writer. That's what this poem made me think about, and it's strange that I've only thought about it now.

Keep writing. :]

[jacob erin-cilberto]

You will realize you are a writer much sooner than that.
Thank you, Decently.
j.

[Julie McCarthy (juliesp..]

Love how you say ‘the babies, his poems ‘
Loved this one Jacob a favourite now

[jacob erin-cilberto]

They are that, Julie,
thank you,
j.

[Desert Knave]

This one kind of talks to me. I have always wondered how many people's complete writing history has been tossed away by a relative who thought it was just a box of paperwork / junk. ~Jim

[jacob erin-cilberto]

My mom once finished reading one of my books and her first words were, "This is awful, I don't understand a word."