"ajar" poems
Don't cry, this kiss is a kiss goodbye.
Don't cling, it's time to part.
Don't look at me nor ask me why
I've taken back my heart.
No questioning, no pleading;
No door remains ajar.
No doubt your heart is bleeding
Now, and wounds of love will scar.
Don't hope to ever turn back time,
Nor resurrect the flame
Of what became a pantomime
Of love, in all but name.
Mar 21, 2011
Mar 21, 2011 at 3:15 AM UTC
Street lamps play
As they have before
Dim walkway
Leading to a door
Careful steps
Strewn leaves
Breathe between gaps
Skulking like thieves
Rustling trees
Otherwise nothing
Mind at ease
Heart rapidly beating
Usually stops here
Usually I'd stir
But still in slumber
I drew closer
Eyes on door
Familiar scene
Stood here before
This dream I've been
Up the patio
Door was ajar
Accompanied by my shadow
Stretched far
Tunnel vision
Dripping eave
Door handle beckons
Hand raised to receive
Usually stops here
Usually I'd rouse
Allowed to enter
This time... This house
Handle I seize
Door seemed light
It did not freeze
Hinges did not fight
Revealed the insides
Scanned surroundings
Unlit lights
Stairs climbing
Footsteps I heard
Coming my way
Sounds absurd
But yet I stay
Usually stops here
Usually dream is done
But still was clear
It only had begun
Darkened figure
Descending on bare feet
Beauty light as feather
Ever did I meet
She did not see me
Planted at the doorway
Impossible it may be
Nothing did she say
Walked right by
My eyes followed
Seconds fly
In eternity they burrowed
Usually stops here
Usually I'd wake
Yet still I'm here
Chance I'd take
Stood at the fridge
Back towards me
Under siege
My mind set a flurry
Fridge was opened
Light casted her silhouette
Her back darkened
Curiosity grew fat
Illuminating beams
Accentuated her hair
Like golden streams
Flowing with flair
Usually stops here
Usually I'd startle
Connection did not sever
Continue I was able
Spellbound I gawked
Rooted like a tree
Wide-eyed I stalked
This siren before me
She drank
Not knowing I was there
Stiff as a plank
I was locked in a stare
Finally broke free
Shifted my weight
She turned to me
And then said...
Then it ceased
Then I awaken
Surprisingly pleased
Slice of heaven
Who was she?
Silhouetted face
Perpetually...
Mysterious grace
Foreign albeit familiar
Strange but true
Now rings clear...
It is you...
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 10:33 PM UTC
it's cold and dark and calm outside
so you make sure that i'm tucked up tight
but i need fresh air so the window is open ajar
whilst there in the corner lays a battered guitar
i'm high as hell so you carried me home
and wrapped me up into a bed of your own
you throw a lumpy mattress by the guitar on your floor
and apologise in advance for the fact that you snore
because i can't even remember my name
may give the green light to most, to see me as 'fair game'
my hair is a mess and my clothes are askew
but that doesn't seem to matter to you
i'm taken aback as you toss me a shirt
you try to stifle your laugh but i catch you smirk
as i try to escape from the clutch of my dress
i hear a laugh which you fail to suppress
i wrestle your shirt with my limbs in a tangle
you yank it over my head, for which i am thankful
i wriggle free from the blanket and sit up cross legged
as you fling yourself down at the foot of your bed
you tell me you've just got a text from my mother
who says she trusts me with you and no other
and that you are under very strict instructions
to keep me away from all teenage destruction
it's 1.30am and my thoughts are cotton wool
but our bottle of ***** is still three quarters full
my eyes spy the battered guitar in the room
and i beg you to play me my favourite tune
an undeniably slow start as you mess up the chords
and ramble on about how i'm probably bored
but my eyes fix on yours with an encouraging grin
and as you continue to play, goosebumps rise on my skin
and as you place the battered guitar back down
you sarcastically ask whether i'm happy now
the buzz of my body and the smile on my face
shows that here, happiness is truly the case
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 6:17 PM UTC
Bits and bytes over the wire
Kindled the LDR love so far
Poetic verses heart inspire
First meeting feelings unbar
Mind and heart inquire
Intellect wins emotions ajar
She said ain't gonna work esquire
This LDR love flees bare
Then came her note
Hard to let go, you still mine?
May be it ain't over yet
Give it some more time
Listen to hearts plea
Let it be free
Today it's only seven,
Twenty five may beckon
Eighteen days to next date
LDR love will update
Not for good bye
But for two hearts to fly
Jan 7, 2020
Jan 7, 2020 at 2:39 PM UTC
The gentle reaches of the late afternoon sun
I'd bathe in this light abundant reverie
Swaying breeze... Caressing the web we've spun
In the warmth of this amber coloured spree...
Shades of gold, stretch beyond observable measure
My vision could only take me so far
Shining through between the green and azure
As if the window of heaven left slightly ajar.
Swathed in the glow... Laying on a bed of green
Eyes closed... Under the blue that spanned forever
Feast for my senses thus honed keen
Relishing the lingering touches of her radiating amber.
She's finally dipping, taking all of her light...
She'll sink behind the horizon, descending gracefully
I'd still remember all through my night
That amber...
Amber is the colour of her energy.
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 5:36 AM UTC
the desert heat surrounds me
my mind slowly baking
for the moment i am free
my mortal vessel aching
as my soul grasps at fatal misconceptions
a mystic door left ajar
locked in a state of introspection
i stare into myself from afar
all these colors all these things
what do they mean
to mirages we cling
a cryptic reality remains unseen
passed off as a silly whim of youth
neither tears of woe nor tears of bliss
these are the tears of truth
brought by knowledge's sweet kiss
ask me not why i cry
ask yourself "how too may i?"
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 12:58 AM UTC
Today, a door was left ajar.
My thoughts have escaped me;
I wonder if they know not to play in traffic
or strike matches found in the tool shed.
I'll wait 'till dark before I worry.
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 7:56 PM UTC
Lost in reverie
Of being with you
So far and yet, so close
No good wishing for what can't.
Hope in words
To redeem found spark
Never assume, always ask
Can't ever know what reward awaits.
So, lark some more
By window ajar, lovebirds
Flutter onward with affection
Whose depth can be but felt in song.
Star Toucher, 22 March 2013
Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 10:50 AM UTC
yesterday, I caught my words crying
not out but within.
cryptic and concealed no more
as the rain poured up
and the ice melted shut. The muscles
isotonic strain kindles heart filled
hurtful strength as
endurance accelerates.
Wasted ones and fives
on groped lonely women.
The ******* forgot the fishbowl
and his keys on government steps
but remembered the leaky wineglass.
Total recall enforced
the key ring's silhouette rolls on by
looking for the keys
to grab a broom and clean up this mess
of market debt and ajar markets.
Ceiling tiles mist and swirl
and wait for mercy to strike again
May 16, 2012
May 16, 2012 at 1:16 AM UTC
Puissant piquant and predatory
And observant from afar
He looks down on your slumber
Like a door that's left ajar
Plying with his manly vice
A reckless male visage
A rogue of masculine device
Seeks entrance to your mind
He saunters with a swagger
A macho savvy moxie
To personify virility's incarnate
His dream zone's metier
He sifts your ****** entourage
In search of sprawls recumbence
To tantalize climactic fervor
With lambent photic scenes
Grasping at your revelries
He spies the wanton lust
With swanky strut appealing
Your primal urge to sate
He leaves undone resistance
With innate resilience seized
The lavish wayward implications
Of unrequited livid deeds
Like passion's lurid lecheries
An insatiable torrid sooth
You wrestle with his adamance
Your carnal ecstasies revealed
You pounce on his exsertion
You splay your agile form
wriggling like a supple nymph
You accept his blatant storm
You writhe in your abandon
In a euphoric supplication
His machismo ****** enveloping
Your wildest latent needs
With no regrets or reticence
you awaken from this dream
To find yourself alone again
Like it had never been
May 19, 2018
May 19, 2018 at 9:51 PM UTC
Heartbreak is an inevitable thing.
I knew this. I knew that throughout the course of my early life, I would experience many heartbreaks.
You know, the ones where it wasn’t meant to be. Life designed to have these strategically planned heartbreaks so that you could grow, you could learn.
A pain so real, it is as though the pain is literally reconfiguring your insides as it moves through you; staying just long enough to shape you, but not long enough to become you.
Our hearts like a key getting resized and fitted for the next lock.
Getting so far into the lock before realizing it’s not a match, our heart, getting shaped and sized per each of these attempts. Shaping up until it finds the right lock; the day when your key fits and you know it’s a match – the feeling people refer to as “when you know, you know”.
Is it possible, however, to find your match- the lock that you are finally meant to open, but while turning the key something goes wrong?
What once was a perfect fit, now sits ajar. The answer: I don’t know.
I loved a man.
A perfect fit.
Our love was trusting, it was giving, it was deep, and strong, and passionate.
I loved this man with all of my being;
and he loved me back.
This man is dead.
That’s what breaking up with someone feels like, anyways.
It is as if they are dead.
You will no longer talk with them, share with them, kiss them, hug them, touch them, love them.
They will no longer hold you at night while you sleep.
They will no longer embrace you in the morning, kiss you when you wake.
It is as though they do not exist.
Not to you anyway; or you to them.
Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 9:38 PM UTC
Walking through the woods at night with increasing fear,
you'd better be scared because the silent watcher, Slenderman, is here.
You stop in a clearing, mouth ajar in fear.
Before you, is a man with no face nor any hair.
His skin as pale as flour, donning a fancy suit.
You take off into the woods in fear but it's too late, he's already in pursuit.
Fleeing through the woods at night in overwhelming fear, you try and try to hide in the darkness of the night.
But even still, you can see his featureless face as a dimly glowing light.
You cry out for help in the darkness of the night.
But, you're too deep in the woods for anyone to assist in your plight.
It's too late now to ever escape, you sit and cry with your mouth agape.
He silently approaches and waits, you stare back and decide to put up a fight.
It's no use, no help at all.
When you entered these woods at night, you were doomed to fall.
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 4:11 PM UTC
February is brighter.
It's pale blue
aura juxtaposes
the deep purple
of January.
It stutters
in, reminding us
that the adamant doors
of winter have been closed
to ajar.
Only the thin confetti
of snow now lines
the streets in
it's final celebration.
Blue smoke from the slates
thaw the crystals
and the bluebirds
have returned
to the sycamore tree.
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 3:12 PM UTC
All day,
My mind plays;
fast-forward
on the hour,
our foreplay,
at four today.
Me inside you;
hard pressed;
soaking wet;
hands: round neck.
Talking *****
making a mess.
Wet lips; stolen breathe.
The future coming; past tense.
moans and groans.
Blood rushing; lost of breathe.
your face flush and,
we aren’t even touching.
Daydreaming; In real-time:
Bodies dripping wet,
Everybody copaset.
Change of tune.
Tone alternate.
On your marks;
I’m getting set.
Your legs ajar,
My hands upset.
Teasing my ****
left you sticky-wet.
Between your lines,
I’m tracing it.
I won’t forget;
Her-rising; so fortunate
Constantly; awakening me
the forecast is set.
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 10:53 AM UTC
These eyes have felt
their fair share of tears that burn
Forgive my eyes for they are yet so green
They have seen much but still they do not learn
These lungs have breathed
The air both fresh and acrid
Forgive them for they are yet so green
They only do what they must when all runs turbid
These ears they've heard
Hurtful promises and whispers that have stung
Forgive my ears for they are yet so green
They're know not to ignore the language of forked tongues
These lips have served
The most callous of opinions
Forgive them for they are yet so green
They can't seem to curb pent up notions
These hands have grown tired
From shielding my tear-stricken face
Forgive these hands for they are yet so green
They're still so afraid to welcome the gift of future days
These legs are sore
For they have travelled far
Forgive them for they are yet so green
They knew better than to enter through doors left slightly ajar
This mind is weary
From thinking of a life meant only for dreamers
Forgive my mind for it is yet so green
They know not of the inexistence of greener pastures
This heart... My heart
Pounding each beat that betrays
Beats with an anvil in tow
Forgive it for it is yet so green
It's having more trouble than it cares to show
This face I wear
A weathered mask I'm unready to shed
Forgive it for it is yet so green
There's still life in it...
For there's yet much to be said
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 12:54 PM UTC
I remember marble that wanted heels,
clip-clop echo of women who belonged.
I wore slip-ons with socks,
easier for those of us who come to scrub
other people’s lives.
The elevator was a box of mirrors,
infinite versions of me-
I bent my head to escape them.
His office door ajar,
his voice stretched thin across a phone.
The girlfriend cooks,
spicy food,
_place a ******** he said.
I had seen much worse-
houses where mold clung to the ceiling,
where grief leaked through the wallpaper.
The vacuum hummed its G-note spiritual.
I worked the nozzle into the skirting boards,
let my mind braid song and ritual,
a drop of lavender for closets,
labels straightened like soldiers on parade.
No one asked for these offerings-
I gave them anyway.
But he winked at me
while telling her _love you, babe,_
mouth syrupy with lies.
A twenty left on the hall table-
a tip that branded my palm.
Later, the bin bag tore,
Madras red bleeding into cream carpet,
pears bruised soft in their sweating wrap.
The stain spread like a hand
that gripped too long,
that would not release.
I cursed the ceiling,
the word **** echoing like prayer.
was only twenty,
scrubbing strangers’ luxury
to keep myself alive.
That day I left more than lavender-
a fragment of myself,
pressed into the carpet,
silent as the stain.
Sep 4, 2025
Sep 4, 2025 at 10:00 PM UTC
*to say I am my own
is a misunderstanding.
I am not my own.
I have no business living in my body.*
every so often
a soul enters and departs
slipping and evaporating like clouds
and hazy veils of smoke.
the souls tell me who they were
and what they weren't.
I can no longer help them
since their time is up.
no wonder people ask
"what are you thinking about?"
for souls pass through me like doors
and gates left cracked ajar.
*to say I am not myself
is an understatement.
I am emptied.
I hold weary travelers as if they were my own.*
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 2:32 AM UTC
all day long, their banging disturbed me at my work
startling me from my reverie, lost deep in the world
of I Wish I Had A Heart Like Yours, Walt Whitman
the birds, returned early from wherever it is they hide
during the long winter, have come to fling themselves
against the over-sized picture window in my living room,
songbird pitch themselves into my poet's dull daytime
so that i am moved to rise from my desk, to look out,
to seek a bird flying away, or peer down to search for the
tiny body maybe roosting among the stalks of the overgrown
hydrangea, which captured autumn’s maple leaves, worn
like a Chicago matron's mink to keep the winter chill at bay
and, as the spring surrenders to the warmer days, i mow the
brightly greened grass, innocently cutting row after row,
to turn finally to the narrow strip nearest the picture window,
a mixture of grass, dried leaves and tiny twigs, all mulched
by the power mower, where i discover these dessicated bodies
exhumed from shallow graves at the base of the newly leafed
hydrangea, their stiff, dry feathers bristly, colored a washed
out grey, tiny feet tightly balled, with all the soft parts missing
and the beaks a startling white, as though bleached, bright against
the dullness of the little corpses which seem to have sunk into
the mosses of the yard, so that they lay preserved below the blade
for the first late-spring chore -- mowing the bird bone garden
i sleep with the bedroom window ajar despite the overnight chill
and dream of the memory of birds, their shapes, their white beaks
and, still, the bird songs wake me in the cool green spring morning
May 18, 2012
May 18, 2012 at 8:56 AM UTC
we are free to be
_whatever we please_
whether or not
any others agree
our distinct vibration
shifts all of the nations
and our unique ways
are the _cosmic-hydration_
with _no need for fixation_
on anothers’ dictation
we rid ourselves of
any self-love cessation
we _explode in our glory_
all free from filtration
and use our relations
for human salvation
let us be who we are
embracing each scar
our imperfect nature
keeps us _reaching far_
releasing self-judgement
with our hearts kept ajar
we can see that our falls
_were just crossroads to stars_
Sep 1, 2018
Sep 1, 2018 at 12:39 PM UTC
~
The Giraffe Cries
Dancing on a thread of silk - taut of pain,
balanced deep within the fear…
Swaying to the side in calculated energy,
breathing as the sweat begins to pour
Toeing the line with blinders on
only to face the evil waiting - miles above my last breath
Shambles become my life’s dreams,
as fifty or so exit the compact car below- all doors ajar
Pointing skyward with gloved fingers and flowered bonnets
they gasp - splashing red paint of severed smiles
and floating eyebrows, merely decorations placed by hand
and contractual obligations
The rings add up to three - yet left alone I find is me,
teetering of lost imagination and breath taking nuances,
blanketing the sawdust creations
of worries portrayed in a gallery of netted promises
It is calling now for my end - free falling with wings to spare,
a calliope whistles its crescendo beneath a tent
pitched and heaved in frustration,
riding the rail lines of someone else’s thoughts
Not worth the price of admission - I wave
as I exit this cotton candy dream world in search of the nightmares slowly unfolding
along platform bridges of age
and destined footpaths
The train departs…the giraffe cries
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 12:40 PM UTC
I'm singing for you....
Singing for you...
Only for you....
For you...
Your rhythm so perfect and wild...
I watch you walk from a far...
On this happy spring day so mild...
From your heart me you do not bar.
Tonight i am leaving my door ajar.
So you know that i am letting you in.
Not only in my house but also in my heart.
So right into you i am falling
We are having perfume rain.
A thousand scents of love we do not feign.
I want your sweet wine kisses on me.
As we lay down and you touch me
Fill me up, fill me in...
Lift me up, let me in...
Our hands flap, dancing to the music within.
I am singing for you...
Singing for you...
Only for you...
For you...
Perfume rain, perfume rain, come down on me...
In your cupped hands you hold my heart.
Perfume my heart with your love...
Nov 9, 2010
Nov 9, 2010 at 3:38 AM UTC
Dancing on a thread of silk - taut of pain,
balanced deep within the fear…
Swaying to the side in calculated energy,
breathing as the sweat begins to pour
Toeing the line with blinders on
only to face the evil waiting - miles above my last breath
Shambles become my life’s dreams,
as fifty or so exit the compact car below- all doors ajar
Pointing skyward with gloved fingers and flowered bonnets
they gasp - splashing red paint of severed smiles
and floating eyebrows, merely decorations placed by hand
and contractual obligations
The rings add up to three - yet left alone I find is me,
teetering of lost imagination and breath taking nuances,
blanketing the sawdust creations
of worries portrayed in a gallery of netted promises
It is calling now for my end - free falling with wings to spare,
a calliope whistles its crescendo beneath a tent
pitched and heaved in frustration,
riding the rail lines of someone else’s thoughts
Not worth the price of admission - I wave
as I exit this cotton candy dream world in search of the nightmares slowly unfolding
along platform bridges of age
and destined footpaths
The train departs…the giraffe cries
Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 4:40 PM UTC
the hour slips by without a sound
and through the looking glass window
the days unfolding scene
gives life and motion
to the surreal stillness within
the silent theatricals of man and beast
strive and fail under the shifting skies
like the rise and fall of nameless empires
their brilliant banners swiftly stirred by
the storms and seas
i walk along the fresh laid carpet
with bare feet feeling the texture
and stand at the doorway
with its wooden contraptions ajar to allow breezes
to walk into the dark house
the heavy presence of paint on the air
and the devices of workmen underfoot
soon will fade to memory as our polished lives
are neatly adorned and trimmed
we have become what we dread
civilized
she walks from the bedroom
wearing nothing but her dreadlocks
as i finish making dinner
we have duck and wild rice
i teach her some ballroom dancing steps
we laugh and whisper
the night has come to its fading
and though we are restless
we trek to our bed
and wrestle eachother to sleep
this is evening with her
and our elegant love affair
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 9:27 AM UTC
The door to my heart
Was always left ajar
In hopes that some lovely soul
Would make himself at home.
I should have had
The foresight
To keep it closed
And lock it tight
When you arrived;
A charming thief
In the dead of night.
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 12:42 AM UTC