Poem 3,484 or so,

Poem 3,484 or so,

 

 

I am squeezing a few more words

out of the womb,

contractions considered

shortened poems are better

and don't bore, like bratty little children

acting out for attention

 

I write out for attention,

tantrums gel within my themes

I am a subsidiary of a former self

the one who really writes all these

poems of expectation

that heaven will be filled with marble desks

and self-scribing pens

 

where all we have to do is think verse

and amazingly there is birth

and after birth, a baptism of bated breath

as to acceptance or refusal

from those godparents, the magazines

who love us or hate us

as we suffer postpartum depression

 

until we are pregnant with the next poem

anticipating the baby born lyrics

as the carriage moves from side to side

and the tapping lulls the infant composition

to sleep...

 

 

erin-cilberto

3/12/22

Reviews

[Patricia]

I love the analogy in this. I have a feeling heaven will not make writing any easier for me.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind words, Patricia,
j.

[andrew mitchell]

Are we poets or expressionists I wonder.... and how our writes change over time as we mature, either becoming more reckless and daring or more polished. Each write is a birth or a burst of expression and it’s journey is survival, hanging out to be read. Anyway, damn this was good Jacob.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I am probably less polished and more reckless...
but at my age...it is what it is.
Thank you for your kind review, andrew,
j.

[Kay Salisu Titilola]

This is a beautiful one, J. And I can relate.
It's some most writers face; especially we poets.
The last stanza brought it all to a perfect point.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your words, Kay,
j.

[DIVYA]

I really enjoyed this poem, my friend. My poems are mostly still births nowadays. Or pulled out forcefully by forceps. No contractions felt. The womb seems deadend. Time to change tracks.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

lately I feel most of mine should be...
thank you for your kind words DIVYA,
j.

[Fabian G. Franklin]

Great stuff J. Some get more attention than others. Some get carved to bits on the keyboard or tablet. Some die a stillbirth, others are aborted and reborn; reincarnated as past experiences in a former life. Some get to blossom and bear fruit while others get black stem rot and fall, lifeless, from the tree. I write because I cannot "not write". It doesn't really matter if anyone reads what I write. Someday, long after my death, my children might, just out of curiosity, and in my poems they will find fragments of me left like bits of bone left uncremated and unrepentant in their existence. Who knows?

[jacob erin-cilberto]

yes, fragments of us in our poems...you express that so well...

thank you, Fabian,read moreyes, fragments of us in our poems...you express that so well...

thank you, Fabian,
J.

[Chris Shaw]

The final stanza here so meaningful for us poets. Yes composing a poem, is much like giving birth. It can be painful, it can take our energy, it can leave us exhausted by our efforts. It might not go to plan. It might need first aid. Our poems are like our children. We have their welfare at heart. We nurture them. Like where you took me here J.

Chris

[jacob erin-cilberto]

they are our children...yes...it feels that way. Thank you, Chris...
j.