“The Trunk” published at Manuela Timofte’s blog In A Love World

On By Mike U.In Poetry

Hey, everybody. Just a note to let you know my poem “The Trunk” is now live at Manuela Timofte’s blog In A Love World. My sincere appreciation goes to Manuela for her generosity in sharing this poem.

“The Trunk”
(c) 2021 by Michael L. Utley

There is a place for things
That don’t belong in
Other places
That sere and weathered
Trunk that hunkers lupine-like
Amid dust-addled attic shadows
Wood split and gouged
With time and neglect
Iron bands and fittings
A crumble of rust
Lockless clasp broken
From endless breeches
And pryings
I should have
Replaced that lock
Eons ago
The ill-fitting lid
Is too loose
More decoration
Than function
And tends to rattle
Of its own accord
Far too often
For what’s inside wants to
Breathe
Stretch
Pop knuckles
Champ teeth
And feed
And only I can
Contain it…

You can read the rest of my poem here:

The Trunk

Also, please consider following and subscribing to In A Love World, a place where wonderful poetry abounds.

25 thoughts on ““The Trunk” published at Manuela Timofte’s blog In A Love World”

    1. Thanks, Carol–yet again! How’s springtime treating you? Have the heat and humidity set in yet? Looks to be hot and dry here (again) this year (the Colorado River is in serious trouble, too). Have a good upcoming weekend, will ya? 😊

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      1. Well, the Northeast has had a lot of rain as usual this Spring, but we’re still in drought.. Other than that, I have a tower heater and a big round fan plugged into the same power strip. 🙃 Wishing you a great weekend, too, Mike — thank you!

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    1. Kindest thanks, Maggie. I wish poems about depression didn’t resonate with anyone, you know? I’d prefer no one else understood what that particular darkness is like. Your kind support is invaluable, my friend. Wishing you a good Friday and upcoming weekend. Take care. 😊

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  10. Mike, this is a beautiful piece. It is sentimental and yet carries such a weight. If only we could lock those thoughts away and put them in a box. I understand that heartache that wanting to discard and move on and yet it is so much easily said than done.

    All we can do is our best, which is not always as easy and securing a lock. Not only that but is it truly healthy to forget who we are entirely. We are what we are and memories in early years form us in its shape whether it is bits and pieces of moments in a box or just something we see that reminds us of something.

    Thank you for sharing this with us on “In A Love World.” Your work never ceases to amaze me. So glad to read you again, an enormous congratulations.

    Blessing and hugs my dear friend.

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    1. Thanks a bunch, Joni. Another sinister poem , this one, eh? I liked the imagery–a shadowy, cobwebby attic and a decrepit old trunk with rusted fittings and a lid that just won’t stay shut. Sentient. Hungry. I mentioned over at Manuela’s blog about a former therapist recommending a trunk exercise to help quell negative thoughts and bad memories. Didn’t quite work out, but it gave me this image and I ran with it.

      Some things just don’t want to stay quiet. Many things persist for a lifetime. You’re right–we can only do the best we can and try to keep moving forward, as difficult as that may be sometimes.

      Thanks for the kind words. Here’s hoping you and Scott have a good rest o’ the week. 😊

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  13. A powerful poem, dear Mike 💕
    What struck me most is that the “trunk” is not merely a container of darkness; it is a metaphor for the burdens we carry within ourselves—old wounds, despair, fears, and thoughts we cannot simply throw away. It captures a profound truth: some inner battles are not won by escaping them but by facing them day after day with courage.

    It also reminds us that vigilance alone can be exhausting. Healing is not always about keeping the trunk shut; sometimes it begins with understanding what lies inside it. Beneath its dark imagery is a quiet testament to resilience—the determination to keep standing, even when the shadows refuse to leave.

    A haunting yet deeply human reflection on the weight of the unseen struggles many people carry in silence.

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