June 23, 2013 at 4:02 pm (literature, philosophy, Poems, poetry, sociology) (, , )

Two bitten lips are evidence, I fear,
of ancient panic hidden in a well,
the bucket drawn when you are far from here,
and I must hold this precious citadel.

These aching shoulders are to be my guards,
which carry and preserve life in our home,
we set a place, and eat, and speak few words,
and clatter through the silence, quite alone.

The doors are bolted shut but I’m afraid
my love is broken into, undermined,
by Loneliness – a muscled retrograde,
who stalks me yet with purpose undefined.

I’ll close the curtains on declining light
and count his eerie footsteps through the night.



  1. annotating60 said,

    Julie, really tightly written. Solid.>KB

  2. nobodysreadingme said,

    I could feel the ache

  3. metonymy4u said,

    really outstanding. I’ve never been able to write a real sonnet. loved the turn and then the re-turn…

please feel free to comment on these poems - all feedback appreciated. :)

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