Clearing

Clearing

 

 

felled trees

with summer leaves holding on for dear life

in mid-November

lawns of gold

rotting away

as time severely

wears away the months of existence

that prattle on into crunching conversations

 

it all hears the same

when the gold

is a trifle option

and final breaths

weave their way into a winter's freeze

 

I lie upon the grass now,

just waiting

each blade a moment closer

 

each breeze tilting the balance

as the blades brush against the throat

of what I am.

 

 

erin-cilberto

11/6/21

Reviews

[Ruth]

Graceful and elegantly articulated. Time speeds up it seems as the years claim leaf after leaf, beautifully voiced Jacob...

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you for your kind words, Ruth,
j.

[Cherrie]

So lovely. I. love the faces of fall.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you, Cherrie,
j.

[shadrach hah]

Hi Jacob, we are all walking towards the winter of our lives. In poetic grace, you take us through such moments of revery. I am but in the Autumn of my years but winter seems to be coming on fast. I love the way you look on life. Have a wonderful Wednesday....Mike.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

that makes two of us in our autumn years, Mike...
maybe we can ride the bus together and chat.
j.

[shadrach hah]

Sometimes I feel that winter is coming on fast. I would take a ride on that bus. Have a wonderful evening....Mike.

[Lydia Shutter]

I could almost hear the crunch of fallen leaves as I read your words, Jacob. At first, this seems like a nature write. Towards the ending, I starting thinking perhaps you are saying that winter is not a good time for you. We are in the winter of our lives....hard to accept. Lydi**

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind review, Lydi.
j.

[lightsong]

That You wrote "throat" in the ending is what got my real attention. the throat is the voice charkar and here I can't read it in your poem but as it is "the voice charkar", we poets if we can't express our feelings, if we don't write our words, many times we will feel blades in our throats, my throat is one of my weakness, it changes even in one day as my voice does, I think it reveals my inner moods in a way or another, and through your poem here what I felt was real coldness... that coldness that comes with numbness, a voice is muted, a voice is frozen, a voice doesn't want to express anything though the eyes and heart still enjoy and wander all around the magnificence of golden November...

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind review, lightsong,
j.

[Corset]

oh, oh! Pick me! (Raises hand excitedly) i know! You must be a dear/ deer in the clearing. XD

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you, Corset...not sure about that, but I appreciate the vote of confidence.
j.

[Corset]

bah, clearing, blades of grass, oh well, maybe next time I know the correct answer and not be guessing, though I pretty much got through high school just like that lol.