Taxis Flying like Pigeons amid the Rubble

Taxis Flying like Pigeons amid the Rubble

 

 

 

the tired city

skyscrapers yawning

towards a perfect halcyon firmament

 

the scrapes on the knees 

from concrete lawns

sliding into second, a cement base

colored in yellow

 

the strain of traffic

ebb and flow and stagnant

the blaring of tempers

the bridge spanning memories

from New York to the Midwest

 

days of learning October maples

under a Vermont canopy

so young and restless

the days seemed like years

 

and now

the tired poet,

the tired city

aged

damaged

dangerous

skyscrapers sleeping

 

while the rest of the city

hides...

 

 

 

 

erin-cilberto

8/30/19

Reviews

[Dave]

Jacob - for some reason, I could be wrong, I see you contrasting the once vibrant and exciting life of the city with the realization that it, like us, is growing old.

Take care - Dave

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i like that take, Dave...
thank you for your review...
j.

[Chris Shaw]

Tiredness here. Weariness of the city life. I feel a hankering for the green tranquility of rural settings. Great description of the concrete jungles. Oh for those October maples underneath a Vermont canopy. I'm getting a feeling of homesickness here. A real yearning and I understand that because I hate city life and yet I was born there. No hankering for me.

Chris

[jacob erin-cilberto]

yes, maybe that is still my first real home, Chris...
thank you for your words,
j.

[Ted Kniffen]

The tired poet...the tired city that never sleeps. How we look back on those halcyon days when youth was promising the world. Leaving the steel canyons...crossing the bridge to the verdant hills and streams that changed perspectives and most likely attitudes.
But can the city really be left behind?

Good one, j.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i left when i was almost nine years old...and a part of it is still in me...even though i am a rural kind of guy...:)
thank you, Ted,
j.

[Kay Salisu Titilola]

This piece left me smiling, I really enjoyed its metaphorical system.

Well penned, J.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, Kay,
j.

[John Alexander McFadyen]

You have a skill in projecting images in a few words. Like an impressionist painting you offer the right fragments to let the reader see the colour and shapes. In this I see New York and its density and hustle and bustle set against the tranquility of growing up in a less urban environment but now, now feeling the wear and tear.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your insightful review, John,
j.

[gram linski]

those last few lines are killer, j. they express the dark time/thought time of night perfectly, another great poem from your unending supply,

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind words, gram,
j.

[lovely.poets.]

This is honestly so deep and sad, yet so beautiful. Just amazing.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind words lovely.poets.
j.

[John the Baptist]

This one appears to span decades. In a few brief stanzas the poet encapsulates his life and at the same time contrasts what has been with what is. Where once there was energy, now there is weariness, not to mention damage accrued along the way. Where once the skyscrapers yawned, now they sleep. The rest of the city hides, meaning perhaps it is lost in the past.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your insightful review, John,
j.

[Sami Khalil]

A wonderful rendering of down-lane memory. I feel the sad voice in the poet for things has changed dramatically from those "halcyon days". I like the usage of pigeons plus humanizing inanimate objects.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind review, Sami,
j.

[Sami Khalil]

You are welcome sir Jacob.