Trapped in a Cul-de-sac

Trapped in a Cul-de-sac

snow covered hills in August

a mind at play

poetic license

is nature's folly

a cool frost blankets

keeps the obvious metaphor at bay

a paradox

of evidence

January will bring a heat wave

irony sweating through lines

a warm dew searches intimacy

we were lovers until I wrote this

in sync

before the dawn

if I could take back the moon

in my theme and shine it elsewhere

I would relinquish the poetic license

and never drive another poem

down your lane

I will always remember where you live

without the verse.

erin-cilberto

10/13/25

Reviews

[Betty Hermelee]

Your poetic license is quite metaphoric... and you may be correct on the weather pattern...seems like you're looking back at some moment in time...a bit melancholic....and apologetic...but you know what hindsight is....seems you are stuck in love with the cul-de-sac, but the lover is no longer there....ah but for memories....nice!
Warmly, B

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you for your insightful words, Betty.
j.

[Betty Hermelee]

Most welcome J.... so glad we're both back at the CAFE!!!
Warmly, B

[Einstein Noodle]

emotive in the sadness ... i especially appreciate V3 L 3-6 ... closing caps it! i feel so lost without a verse walking or driving down a lane that through time has become so obscure i can't move down it nor see anything but grey. :( here's a great song i road way back in me own little broken heart ;) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gZyQjQclmH0#ddg-play ... mighty fine poetry my friend!
E.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you for your kind review, E.
I will check out the song.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Good stuff, the song. I like Dave Matthews...

[Einstein Noodle]

amen brother! he is original :)

[Lorry]

My poetic licence got revoked for having to many periods and questionable marks on it.
I think I'll just move to where January has heatwaves. 😀

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Maybe I will join you there, Lorry.
j.

[emmajoygreen]

'a paradox
of evidence
January will bring a heat wave
irony sweating through lines
a warm dew searches intimacy
we were lovers until I wrote this'

lines disorientated perhaps, might have read differently had a word or line been omitted. Strange how hidden intentions step into a situation and turn it inside out. This reads, third time, of a sad unwanted situtation that perhaps leaves a memory that will never entirely fade.. .. Perhaps?

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you for your persistance em.
I hate feeling trapped in an existence.
j.

[emmajoygreen]

Trouble is, life traps us when we need feel free to be.. But, is rarely as easy as one wants. 'Things' arrive to trip us head over heals and back again. Maybe we need to walk backwards and face what we can choose from the past. Think you?

Must get some sleep now, sir - but be sure, will return in the light of tomorrow.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Yes, I think you are right...we do need to walk backwards.
j.

[Fabian G. Franklin]

I dislike feeling trapped in any situation but if it makes one break out to find freedom and breathe fresh air again, maybe it's a catalyst for good. Everyone loves the moon, even the oceans are drawn to him. I enjoyed the read. F.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you for your kind words, Fabian.
j.

[Chris Shaw]

I am picking up on regret here j. Finding yourself trapped in a cul-de-sac is not a pleasant place to find yourself. Can be difficult to escape. It reminds me of a situation I was in many years ago which caused a great deal of grief. August snow isn’t good. Out of season. This liason is doomed by the sounds of it.

Chris

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Yes, doomed. Thank you for your words, Chris.
j.

[Jansy]

Jacob, This poem reads like a brilliant testament to the cartography of regret!

It makes perfect sense that the feeling of being trapped comes from violating the first rule of poetic license: never write about a lover near a paradox. The entire Cul-de-sac becomes a metaphor for the moment when the mind’s playful August snow recognizes the irony of the coming January heat wave.

The deeper revelation lies in the power of the moon’s misplaced light. The yearning to “take back the moon” shows how the poem itself drives the relationship down the wrong lane. There’s an attempt to exchange poetic license for a simpler memory, but that license can’t be surrendered. It’s permanently embossed with the address.

The memory remains, yet it can only be reached through a sweating, ironic verse. A wonderfully self-defeating truth.

Fact of Cartographic Entrapment:
It is a little-known fact that if one drives down a poetic Cul-de-sac while simultaneously holding August snow and expecting a January heat wave, a parking ticket will inevitably arrive from the Department of Poetic Licensing. This ticket, printed entirely on misplaced moonbeams, cannot be paid. But it permanently revokes the ability to use the word "intimacy" in any verse written within a five-mile radius of irony.

Unless, the teapot is lonely. Then all is forgotten. That is teapot exception clause, unless, it is Tuesday. Fine, write Sir!

[Poet]

Moonlight spells romance, and romance doesn't always last. It can disappear along with the sweat of the first foolish projection.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, Poet.
j.