Laura Robin Nov 2012

this door exists,
stately and staunchly it stands,
disheartening and terrifying it remains.
the door is unlocked, yet cannot be opened,
for in it, a path in time...
one decision that can affect everything
[such as my choice to wear the necklace you adore,
which lead to you noticing me for the very first time,
or my idea to play you the song that you fell in love with,
which i can no longer listen to]
...for in this door, one path
is intimidatingly located.

every bone in my body,
every last muscle, tendon, ligament
each artery, each vein, each capillary
every single nerve,
even each microscopic cell,
implores me not to open this tempting door...

[it is almost as if my hand refuses to grasp the handle,
to unleash the unknown upon me,
the colossal chain of events that would ensue]

the immensity of the unfamiliar,
the unexplored,
tends to perturb me.
change is unnerving
and is almost as chilling
as an abandoned graveyard at midnight.

but i bring my mind back to the door,
yes! this preposterous door that i have contrived for myself.
why is the knob so easily turned?
why does it not put up somewhat of a fight,
at least jolt me suddenly,
as to frighten my curious heart?
it is a constant battle between my body
my mind
and my heart
as to which doors to open
and which ones to leave ever so steadfastly closed.
but never once has there been such a struggle
for them to reach an understanding.

somehow my heart,
[even though a fraction of me,
a fist, dripping in blood]
is prevailing for the moment.
my heart reaches for the handle,
attempts to unclose the door...
yet, with the best of its ability,
withstanding my strong-willed
and obstinate heart,
my powerful body and commanding mind
overcome this hostile takeover,
and the door remains shut.

it is my body,
my skillful mouth,
my soft, rose lips,
my elegant tongue,
and my vocal chords...
all of these pieces must
contrive the words,
conceive the change,
which will unveil the path that will forever alter us...

slowly, opening the door.

being as in love with you as i am,
i will not let you slip away from my arms right now.
but when we are not together
[i wish you’d have been there,
i needed you there
]
i stare at this humbling door.

if i wait too long, i’ll forever lose you;
for it is you who will make this choice for me,
opening your own door, fearless and dauntless.

Poetic T Aug 2014

Insanity
                               Is
Leaving
                                                      The
            Latch
Swigging

                                                               ­          Inside
           Your


Minds
                                                         Door.....

Alan McClure Mar 2011

Imagine my disappointment when,
on discovering a tiny door
in a hollow tree,
locating its miniature key
beneath a buttercup,
unlocking and opening it

I found not a world of tiny folk
not Tir-nan-Og nor Avalon,
but a spectacled man in a white labcoat
holding a clipboard
and making notes on my reaction.

"Initial shock", he jotted,
"followed by anger and suspicion.
"Likely to require counselling
"within a year."

I closed the door as politely as I could
and went back to my books.

- From Also Available Free

Behind the door are cries,
heavy swallows and closed eyes.

One. two steps out the door
no crying. Can breathe once more.

Avery Bellafiore Dec 2014
Bed

You're not even at my door
and still
I've made a bed for you

miss pie Oct 2014

mystery unopened
red jewel knob
brilliant ruby shine
entrance telling tales

red light on
bustling bridge to wonderland
knocking knees unconcerned
she always has her way

The most beautiful of doors . Every door has a story
Vicky May 2014

They see it.
Oh, how they see it so quickly:
an open door of what's closed.
They do not know what's in there.
Do they take a peek?
Peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo.
No, they don't.
The emptiness is killing, they say;
the air is poisoned with apathy,
cynicism,
breath of bitter lungs.
Something is not healthy there.
Someone is sick.
But what is?
How can something be stated as sick
when they do not even see what's inside?
Based on instinct, they say.
A precaution of what must not be known.

Then off they go,
leaving the open door
once again locked.

Nicole Dawn May 2015

You are only happy
When the door of opportunity
Sits wide open,
With signs telling you
How to pass through

You are hopeless,
When the door is open,
But you can't find it

You are angry
When you can find the door
But it is locked

You are sad
When someone shuts the door
Right in your face

You are anxious
When you see the door
But are too scared to go through

You are depressed
When you lie by the door
But lack the energy to get up
And go through

This is why
Happiness
Is so hard to achieve

In the everlasting fragrance
Of the sound
Of your love

I bathe and notice
Each winding minute
To your door.

To your door
The key to which
Unlocks each and every
Passage in my heart.

RW Dennen Aug 2014

Smashing boots on doors,
splinters fall like rain.
Smashing boots on doors,
children feel the pain.
Smashing boots on doors,
granny's years of age.
Smashing boots on doors,
Mom and Dad in rage.
Smashing boots on doors,
panic sets the stage.
Smashing boots on doors,
Iraqi freedom fades.
Smashing boots on doors,
like thunder in a storm.
Smashing boots on doors,
an innocent family torn.
Smashing boots on doors,
a brand new hatred born.

RW Dennen  (c)  11/24/09

As I say war is not a natural state of man. In the year 2004
the insurgents were spilling over Iran into Iraq around border towns. This was one of the low points for our forces,
we were losing soldiers fast. I know that our troops or at least most were forced to do this. Because tracing an enemy
was most impossible and most acted in defence. This act must have traumatized a lot of our troops. Because by nature
most are good kids. They're kids to me because I'm 74.
(Not to be condocending) Thank you, go with peace.
Megha Balooni Jan 2015

Tell me a story, she asked.
Inquisitive, just like her mother.
Open that door and that'll get you to your storyland. Behind which lie stories never heard and rarely told. And there is where you can weave magic with words and watch them come into reality.
She's been searching for that door ever since.

JV Beaupre May 2016

Bang! bang! went the screen door,
"Don't slam the door!", my mother.

Decades later...

Bang! bang! went the screen door,
Sounds like heaven to me!

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