Words

Words

 

I am a soliloquy

of sad repose

 

your memory

my stage.

 

 

erin-cilberto

11/8/2020

Reviews

[Kent Rawski]

True dat the memory of words imprinted with pen or without

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you Kent. Appreciate your visit.

[Arundass TP]

though short, good work.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you, Arundass....
ah, less is more.
appreciate your visit.
j.

[andrew mitchell]

some plays run for a long time one hopes, maybe the longer the time together, the bigger the stage to hold that memory. very neatly said j.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, andrew,
j.

[Dhara_Ditzy Kat]

I think of poets who lost love only to sing and speak of love forever, their lives a tragic play ....this is beautiful Jacob.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind words, Dhara,
j.

[Cherrie]

Isn't that the truth of it. We create in hopes another with find it.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

yes, we do, Cherrie...yes we do.
thank you for the read and words,
j.

[.]

A lonely heart always finds a stage to pour his heart out.... But the stage only meant for the two..... For others it's a curtain down.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

yes, a curtain down...exactly.
Thank you, Dreamer,
j.

[Patricia Wedel]

When someone's memory is your stage,
you would speak to yourself; "the shadow of your smile when you are gone"
from the Movie 'Sandpiper'. 'would brighten all my days and all my nights"...
so sad, but so romantic, as are your words. gently, Pat

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind review, Pat.
j.

[Chris Shaw]

Shakespeare shortened. How well you convey so much in so few words. Such lingering sadness.

Chris

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind words, Chris,
j.

[Ted Kniffen]

You wouldn't be holding a skull ... would you? Staring into empty sockets remembering the eyes that once dwelt there.
Your soliloquy is brief but powerfully stated.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Alas poor yorick....I knew him Horatio!
Thank you for that vision, Ted,
j.

[John Alexander McFadyen]

You take Shakespeare and trim his tongue with ferocious fervour. Pack so much into a handkerchief of a postage stamp poem and yet not one word of waste. Indeed you invoke a picture of deep sadness as the protagonist recalls moments now lost.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind review,
j.