Walking and Watching

Walking and Watching – by Julia


I met a man the other day

Who walked exactly like you

Propelled by his head,

Rather than his feet;

Shoulders bent low,

As if he carried the weight of the worlds

Or just of that moment.

I met a boy the other day

Who had your eyes—

Great fawn’s eyes,

That are bold because of their ignorance

And afraid without knowing why—

{In utter focused abstraction}

I met a man the other day,

But he wasn’t you.

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Gravity is a ghost,

Pulling receipts off tables

When no one is near.

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Hello, Again

Time – by Julia (me)


(Time slips away)

A physical reminder each morning

As my calendar gets thinner:

Each day I pull off a page.

(Time slips away)

I’ve moved my clock to the bathroom counter—

The hands just moved so fast!


It’s been a while.  I had a wonderful but busy summer, and then jumped (rather under-excitedly) into my freshman year of college.  Many things have changed in me this semester—I expected college to be a time of self-discovery, but I didn’t expect this much!

I haven’t been writing poetry as much, ergo I haven’t been processing as completely.  I’ll do my best to update once or twice a week, and maybe taking my mind off music theory classes will make me less morose 🙂

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Lament of the Shortness of Beauty

Beauty fades so quickly; e’en in nature it is so:

Each sunset only lasts a minute, each sunrise turns to gold.

Beauty is so fleeting—oh! and so, my love, are you.



This came on while listening to Fleet Foxes and watching a very yellow sunset under very dark storm clouds.

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What to do?

“Don’t let me down—make sure you practice!”

He says sternly and points at the piano.

I smile and nod, inwardly protesting,

and wondering whatever I’ll do for 3 hours

3 hours each day practicing classical piano.

Somehow I must have gotten that wrong.

What’ll I do?


What’ll I do, when all I want to do

is play Debussy till my legs are sore from

flutter pedal and holding the una corda.

All I want to do is

play guitar, and sing, and brew tea and light a candle outside.


What’ll I do when all I want to do is

read Pippi Longstocking, Longfellow, Crime and Punishment—

whenever I want to.


What’ll I do?  I’ll do what I want to do—

Because life is far too short to do

what everyone else wants me to do.

There will only be so many sunsets.

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Celebration Dance

Red and gold mingle this evening,

Dancing with frivolous abandon.

The beautiful ladies in purple silk skirts

Stand by, but not without interest.


Attentive, sweet mothers hovering overhead,

All garbed in white linen pleats,

Say, “Someone is crying by the wall—

“We must comfort the bleeding hearts.”


And over and around all the flowers that dance

Are the new and tender green leaves—

Protecting, housing, guarding and shading,

They keep watch both by day and by night.



Tulips and daffodils in the first and second lines; azaleas in the third and fourth; magnolia trees in the fifth and sixth; and, of course, bleeding hearts in the seventh and eighth.  That’s most of what has bloomed so far.  What beautiful flowers are you enjoying this spring?  And do tell: what or who did you think the characters of this poem were at first?

As a random side-note, The Weepies’ new album “Sirens” comes out in less than two weeks!!!!

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Spring Storm

Spring Storm


The first dozen raindrops fall on my window—

The first dozen raindrops of the first spring storm.

The sky is a chaos of color and light;

Impending fury in the billowed-up clouds.


Without warning, the rain breaks its cover.

It comes down in torrents—soldiers without rank.

The raging outside reaches a fever pitch

To match my seething heart and mind.

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