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![Profile picture of Jacob erin-cilberto]()
Jacob erin-cilberto wrote a new post
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Read MoreFeelings Carefully Prepared it's the raw fish of living clumps of seaweed stifling the tincture of happiness we swim without fins a delicacy for some a romance for the persnickety upstream, salmon fly we use chopsticks for arms to hold each other in fluent sway and yet we are still stanzas away from a sushi satisfaction the...
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![Profile picture of Jacob erin-cilberto]()
Thank you for your kind review, Richard.
j.
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![Profile picture of Neville]()
I’ve read through this so many times and I have now somehow managed to lose count of the various ways in which I have so far managed to interpret it .. Indeed, such variances can only be satisfactorily juxtaposed against the vibrant backcloth of human relationships that I know from both personal and professional experience to exist .. You have such a unique way with words Jacob it has the JEC stamp running all the way through it .. Neville
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![Profile picture of Jacob erin-cilberto]()
Thank you for your very kind review, Neville. I am so pleased to see that many of our WC family have found a new home, and a comfortable one at that.
j.
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![Profile picture of Ghosteen]()
Ghosteen wrote a new post
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Read MoreThere is a Cheyenne word for the act of preparing the mouth to speak like the moment cloud guts open above plains, before damnation floods Hinged, beneath the softest decibels Alzheimer smiles prevented our lips from moving Our hearts stopped for one thousandth of a second, sisters...
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![Profile picture of RomaJ]()
A haunting, beautifully layered meditation on loss, memory, and ritual. The imagery is vivid and intimate, moving effortlessly between grief, remembrance, and fleeting moments of connection. The poem lingers like smoke, both tender and unflinching.
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![Profile picture of Ghosteen]()
I genuflect to the beautiful reply and inherent kindness. Heartfelt thanks Roma. Never really been able to articulate losing them in the same week. There was a joint funeral and I was tasked with supplying the epitaph and music. They travelled to ash to the disco thrum of Abba! Mum would have loved that.
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![Profile picture of Ghosteen]()
Ghosteen wrote a new post
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Read MoreBallerinas of glassdiamond scatter upon kitchen floor Bottles sink from handsas submarines failing to find home At the hospice karaokeinvitations to dance die like whisperswithin photograph framesbeside the coldest beds Mindy McCready tribute actlocked drunk jaw to the theatreat end of furthest...
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![Profile picture of Fia Naturie]()
Sounds like her mind was all over the place and things got out of hand
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![Profile picture of Ghosteen]()
my scribbles often jag around like a crap jigsaw puzzle. the mindy stanza is just illustrative of troubled music souls. melissa was just an exploitative douche (i was 24, she was 40) and she played me like a guitar.
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![Profile picture of Jacob erin-cilberto]()
Third stanza is amazing. Hospice Karaoke to me is representative of the routines folks get into before they pass when they are at those facilities. It is a reminder of how life is already gone before it actually is.
Your jigsaw puzzles are quite creative and fun to try to put together.
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![Profile picture of Ghosteen]()
I’m pleased you find some creativity within the puzzles. Pleasure to meet you J.
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![Profile picture of Jacob erin-cilberto]()
Pleasure to meet you, Ghosteen. I am a transplant from WC, was on that since 2008.
I am liking it here so far, and getting some inspiration to start banging the keys again.
j.
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![Profile picture of emmagreen]()
emmagreen wrote a new post
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Read MoreDressed in blue overalls and stout boots, socks turned over their knotted bows, she walked slowly, looking at not only the shrubs and flowers but three much loved maples. Their places in the garden had been carefully chosen as...
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![Profile picture of Sam Dickens]()
I guess you won’t be surprised to know that I envisioned you walking in that garden, and not someone fictitious. I see there is beauty here, but also a bit of sadness. Maybe it’s because I suspect the knife’s owner might not still be with us… or that flower being the last.
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The King of Metaphor,
jacob, I’ve often marveled at the unique originality of your stunning analogical imagery … this piece is overflowing with this brilliance.
I mean, who else would/could have come up with such a title that morphs from raw fish into emotional human vibrance, with but a few strokes of a ultra-creative, skilled pen?
How slippery relationships can all too often be, or become, just like this poem.
I really got a knowing smile outta this’n … thanks, Jacob! ⁓ Richard🖌