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Author Name: Freeborderline_mary 2 Comments
Date Added: October 24, 2014 19:10:22 Average Score: (Needs 1)
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Type: Rhyming
Category: Sonnet Add To Favorites | Text Only
Called Up
In all the crumbled ruins of our past,
Where flowers cannot grow beneath the stones —
The last remaining rooms of what was vast, 
Our altars with their tiny, shapely bones —
Your laughter echoes from the very walls,
A ghost among the misty corridors;
It draws me back — it stifles and enthralls,
Rebuking me as sure as it implores.
I linger at the threshold, bound and still,
And taste only the edges of your blame.
Though I could step inside, and dream I will,
I don’t dare open doors that bear your name —
And all I could have sung, or could have said…
The words are dust in me. The words are dead.
Author's Notes:
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'Called Up' Copyright © Jessica Ruth Myr
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Comment By: PremiumDavid Turner on May 17, 2015 04:23:19 PM Report

Jessica  - I am very  surprised that his sonnet has only one comment. I would think of it as a reflection upon the readers of CP rather than he quality of your work which I thought was really excellent.



Comment By: FreeFred Clark on October 25, 2014 06:11:10 AM Report
This is such a moving poem, Suffice to say,  it moved me to tears. Wonderful, just wonderful! 


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