in a cornfield of life

in a cornfield of life

 

 

 

fatigue of forbearance

love becomes a left-wing blackbird

dancing on a scarecrow's countenance

regardless of the consequence

 

tired flight

the fight gone out

they become friends

of passion's loss

 

the straw singed

burnt accolades given

to the implanted then excavated heart

the blackbird winks

 

the sky turns a vicious blue

we fly onto another plane

circumventing feelings

searching for the crumbs

 

of what we have left.

Reviews

[Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn..]

Jacob,

An old fart such as I cannot help but to envision that lovely scene from The Wizard of Oz in reading this most pleasantly written little poem ... Thank you for (probably unintentionally) bringing back such fond memories of watching that grand ole movie each and every year that it used to be aired on television ...

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, Marvin, so glad it could touch a good nerve,
j.

[Chris Shaw]

Oh J. It is better to salvage something rather than lose everything. The blackbird is wise. The scarecrow will benefit too. It's a win win situation.

Chris

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Affirmative...thank you, Chris,
j.

[Ranger Kessel]

To u have a way if expression in a style I admire and this is a good example. I also was reminded of the Beatles.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you, Ranger,
j.

[Ranger Kessel]

You're welcome

[Pryde Foltz]

I am reminded of the Beatles and Blackbird. There is wisdom in those beautiful black plumes. For sure.

Superb write:)

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, Pryde...appreciate your kind words,
j.

[JE Falcon]

I'll reserve my comments after further reading. But then, again, isn't it better when friendships linger? After all, past memories might be those crumbs, and sharing them together could be far better than eating alone.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I have to agree....thank you, JE,
j.

[redzone]

cornfields are cynical places Jacob, especially for those left-wing blackbirds.... I am not sure that "love" is the searching for those left-over crumbs, any more than wishing for those glory days to return is, but if we look closely, sprouting in between those corn stalks, red flowers can be seen, kind of like the rose that grows out of the concrete in the slums of america.... nothing is the same as before and our love, as well as dreams take on new meaning as time goes on, especially if we are able to see that they can materialize within the soils of today... and sitting on scarecrows waiting for them to reply, be friendly will only llead to a barren landscape, no mtter how blue the sky has become....

wow, Jacob, talk about metaphor, how can you beat scarecrows, cornfields and crumbs in the time of love and passion's loss, no wonder blackbirds are confused... lol... well what do I know except that this is Jacob poetry at its best!!!!

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind review, Curt.
j.