Here Is a Door

[CdnReader]

From a theme inspired by PrinceMyshkin at another place and another time.... :)



Here is a door
to the rest of your life
Where do you want it to lead?

Will you turn the handle
and walk through sedately?
Or will you rev up the bike
and smash the door to bits,
as you wave hasta la vista
to your past?
Or will you tiptoe silently
across the threshold,
hoping that no one sees you leave
...or arrive?

Will you stop and look
before proceeding?
Or will you run roughshod
over the cobbled path,
leaving muddy footprints
and scattered laughter
in your wake?

Does the door lead to a place
you've dreamed of going?
Or maybe you're one
who hasn't given one bit of thought to
where you're headed...

Is it a path you dread to take?
Does the darkness frighten you?
Or does your doorway open onto
sunshine and waterfalls?

Here is a door
to the rest of your life.

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Where does your door lead? Feel free to add on....

[Sweets America]

I think the doors of my life are leading me to more and more beautiful things. I have unlocked several doors in my life already, and each one opened on new possibilities. Also, each open door made me meet new people. It's like some of my doors were in common with their doors. We walked through each other's lives.
I think I am careful in the beginning, when I open a new door, but...soon... the passionate side in me just jumps forwards and I welcome all that I can find. I think it is good, it is such a feeling of liberty to let oneself live fully.
I enjoy saying 'hasta la vista' to my past, oh yes, but in the meantime my past is what made me who I am, and it gave me this way of looking at what the new doors can offer me.
Sometimes we dream of going somewhere, and we actually end up going there, and at other times, we end up in a place where we would never have thought we would go. The surprise tastes sweet.
By the way, I like the poem! :)

[kitten]

i love the poem!!

[PrinceMyshkin]

behind which waits
immeasurable wealth,
the love of your life,
long life and good health...

Behind the other one
?

Which one will you choose?

And whichever it is,
will you ever stop wondering
What if I had chosen the other one?

[Pendragon]

Doors In a Door

Here is a door—
Inside it, an long hallway,
With many more doors
On the right side and left.

If I open my door—
And you enter my hallway,
Some doors I will open,
But some are locked tightly yet

There has only been one enter my door
And walk into my hallway,
To her all the doors will open—
From her I will have no secrets kept

Pendragon
© 9/4/07

[CdnReader]

Thanks for your comments about your "doors", Sweets and Kitten.

Jer, I'll take Door #1 please, and I'll never ask or wonder about that other door -- ever -- because I will have everything I could ever need or want.

Pen....thanks for your contribution! Very sweet poem. :)


Here is a door
to my heart...
The key's a bit rusty
and the lock squeals some,
but you will find that it still works.
Please oil the latch, shake the dust
from the welcome mat,
and close the door behind you
when you leave.

[PrinceMyshkin]

The heart knocks repeatedly
at its own gate, calling
from side to side,
"Come in," and "Come in."





J. Newman Sudden Proclamations © 1992

[CdnReader]

^^^ One of my faves, Jer. Thanks. :)



Here is a door to my world.

Don't mind the broken glass --
the window fell out last week
and I haven't yet repaired it.

Yes, I know some of the stick-on letters
have lost some of their stick-on-iveness
and the sign on the door now says, "C nR ade ."

Don't mind the peeling paint --
I want a new colour
and haven't decided yet which one.

Yes, I know the handle is broken....
the door still works fine
if you just give it a little push.

But please do come in.
I've saved you a seat on the patio
where we can watch the sunset
and catch fireflies.

[PrinceMyshkin]

^^^ One of my faves, Jer. Thanks. :)



Here is a door to my world.

Don't mind the broken glass --
the window fell out last week
and I haven't yet repaired it.

Yes, I know some of the stick-on letters
have lost some of their stick-on-iveness
and the sign on the door now says, "C nRe ade ."

Don't mind the peeling paint --
I want a new colour
and haven't decided yet which one.

Yes, I know the handle is broken....
the door still works fine
if you just give it a little push.

But please do come in.
I've saved you a seat on the patio
where we can watch the sunset
and catch fireflies.


Love it - all that is, but those damned fireflies that are sort of superfluous. I do think the sunset says it all, but I might even rather it ended with the seat that was saved on the patio... the fact of it having been saved conveys to me that there is an expected or longed-for dear one, and even the sunset takes away from the homey beauty of that.

[gothic]

"But please do come in.
I've saved you a seat on the patio
where we can watch the sunset
and catch fireflies."

Wow,what warmth! The poetry gives one a cozy feeling and the warmth's simply irresistable.and,I don't mind the fireflies.they add a dreaminess without being superfluous or histrionic.kind of reminds me of the day I first held a glow-worm in my hands and felt a strage bliss welling up inside me.

[gothic]

The very last door

It was full of doors.
The passage
All the hollowness merged together-
The grey and grim passage's and mine

I walked alone
For how long I don't know
Sometimes I felt the passing shadows,
Sweeping through without paying a heed
To my restless quests-
'Where are you going?
Where does this passage lead?'
Unanswered,they echoed in the void.
I kept walking.

There was no end
And I stopped counting
Time's patient footfalls-
Suddenly a door came into my view
It was painted a deep green
Now blackish with cobwebs hugging it tightly.

I staggered towards it,
Touched the handle and laid a ear on it
And forgot to breath for a while,
As an unearthly tune
Struck me from the other side
The distant,doleful cry
Kept billowing inside me,
I grabbed the handle instantly.

And I saw the shadows
All bundled together,
They were rushing towards me-
'Do not open the door-
Then we exist no more...'
They howled together.

I stared for a while
And letting out a sigh
Pushed open the door,
The door that was most unsought-
And light flooded the passage,
Blinding,screaming light;
I bade them goodbye
Darkness was needed no more...

[CdnReader]

^^^ Thanks very much for your contribution, Gothic. Very nice! :)

* * * * *

Here is a door
that leads to an otherworld.
Turn the handle and step through.

In this otherworld,
rabbits climb trees with purple leaves.
Long-bearded storytellers in short green coats
sit on every street corner, playing dominoes,
and gabbling to passersby of whales and wintertales and roquefort cheese.
Eighty-year-old children skip through fields of polka-dot roses.
Skyscrapers are only three and a half inches tall,
right is always the one that's left,
and all downs go up.

Come in and be amazed...
just like Alice.

[PrinceMyshkin]

I would certainly go through that door!

and I'm hoping to complete one about a back door to heaven.

[CdnReader]

Now's your chance, PM. Go fer it!! :)

[gothic]

Thanks,reader.but it became possible for you, as you started this 'door' thing! whenever the topic 'door' comes, i don't know from where this image grasps my mind. It had been haunting me for long, but I couldn't give this mere silhouette a solid form. now that i've given it its long-craved body, i feel thankful to you!

[CdnReader]

.

Sometimes
life is like a carnival fun house.
Hallways full of doors....
Some open outward, some open in.
Some are brightly coloured with big neon flowers,
some are dull and uninteresting.
Some have huge handles begging to be clicked,
others just want a gentle push,
many are locked.

Once you choose a door and enter in,
you find a maze of rooms....
a dizzying array of connecting archways,
short corridors, sliding doors
dividing one empty room from the next.
Tilting platforms and spinning turnstiles....
Distorting mirrors and twisted reflections...

No signs anywhere to be found.
Which way next??

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[CdnReader]

I seem to be stuck on this "doors" theme.... Hehehe....

* * * * *

Here are two doors....
One familiar, one new.
Which way will you go?

I will always choose
the door not yet opened,
the path not yet explored,
the country not yet travelled,
the recipe not yet cooked,
the wine not yet tasted,
the film not yet seen,
the book not yet read.

My soul craves
the unknown...
the unexpected.

But
there is one
that I would have
accompany me.
One spot of familiarity
in a world of unusual.

My anchor
in a churning sea
of different.

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[Demian]

I really enjoyed this poem. Thank you. Here is an addition for this thread.

Doors

Doors, like minds,
either open or close in time
and hinge on rusty spokes.

But each though locked may
give way again to what is
hidden behind their sight.

[CdnReader]

Doors

Doors, like minds,
either open or close in time
and hinge on rusty spokes.

But each though locked may
give way again to what is
hidden behind their sight.

Oh, thank you, Demian. I'm glad to find I'm not the only one who writes about doors. :)

* * * * *

Here is a door
to eternity.

In this world,
you shall have everything
you have ever wished for...
Beauty, riches, fame -- all yours.
All of your favourite foods prepared in an instant...
All of your favourite books on the shelf...
All of your favourite activities within reach...
Warm breezes to bring the scent of wildflowers
and the sun to shine down upon you.
The days shall proceed
as you wish.... always.
And you shall live forever
in the sweetness of this land beyond.

But once you step through
you can never return.
What is your choice?

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[littlewing53]

i love doors 2....

this door
to where i go
leads to not i've been

brightly colored
richly dressed
the knob carelessly awaits...

[CdnReader]

Oh littlewing, I love that last line!! :) Thank you!

[CdnReader]

.

in front of me the door, in my hand the key
i want to know what's on the other side
i need to know what's on the other side
even though the sign says "DO NOT ENTER"

i pocket the key and return to
my safe place where the
door doesn't beckon
but the key...the key

my fingers smooth the edges
explore the notches and grooves
that could reveal the secrets that
exist on the other side

no, no....there are other things to do
i must wash my hair
read next week's newspaper
book a flight to Neptune
write a poem

and the key still draws
me back to the door
resistance is futile
i turn the key in the lock
desperate now to discover what is hidden
worried that i may be too late

i step through
and find that it was the wrong key
after all


* * *


i back out slowly
with a wry smile and a shake of my head
and lock the door again
with the key that never worked

i reorient the "DO NOT ENTER" sign
that had fallen askew
when i walked through

it is only then that i
notice the welcome mat covered in dust
spiderwebs and dead leaves

it's all cleaned up now

i hang the key that doesn't work
in a place that i can't reach
in a world that doesn't exist


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[littlewing53]

love it!!!...more doors

thru the trees
beyond the horizon
lies a mysterical door
without an answer

only by admission
error or divine revelation
does this door appear

there beyond the entrance
a place that seductively whispers
enticing you alone

[PrinceMyshkin]

What if there were a door
free-standing in a field?
Just a solitary door in a frame.

Walking around it you might see
the field is more or less the same
on either side,

but if you chose to open it
and walk through, ah!
How different everything would look!

[stormy sky]

this place is a hothouse of creativity.ilove it.

[CdnReader]

A door outstanding in its field, Jer??? Bwahahahahaaa....... (sowwy, couldn't resist)

Thanks, Stormy. Feel free to leave a "door" poem here too. :)

[PrinceMyshkin]

this place is a hothouse of creativity.ilove it.


...through which one Stormy Sky entered
one ordinary day, or one on which he or she hoped
for company. He or she entered tentatively at first
since other doors had led to other rooms
where the company was dull or inhospitable.
But here she or he is welcome and, dare I say,
has gifts to share with all of us.

[firefangled]

I looked for you in the wind; I thought I heard your breath
against my ear, rising and falling. I thought I felt your
fingers in my hair, pushing it back. And like opened doors,
I saw the leaves go silver as they turned, and beyond
each one revealed a universe of midnight starry skies,
opening and closing at your touch. Was it the wind or more
at work? I looked for you behind each one. Was it you or
my heart’s desire to see the stars as your bright eyes.
I reached for you in the air, but the warmth was the night,
it slipped from my arms without a trace, and I turned
to follow you, thinking I saw your face, but it was moonlight.
I listened everywhere and every sound I ever learned
I heard, and felt again your breath — I thought I heard you sigh.
I looked for you in the wind. Was it you I felt pass by?

[PrinceMyshkin]

I thought I heard you sigh.
I looked for you in the wind. Was it you I felt pass by?

If not it must have been the Gods of Blessed Melody, and of the Open Heart and of Happiness to Spare!

[CdnReader]

I looked for you in the wind; I thought I heard your breath
against my ear, rising and falling. I thought I felt your
fingers in my hair, pushing it back. And like opened doors,
I saw the leaves go silver as they turned, and beyond
each one revealed a universe of midnight starry skies,
opening and closing at your touch. Was it the wind or more
at work? I looked for you behind each one. Was it you or
my heart’s desire to see the stars as your bright eyes.
I reached for you in the air, but the warmth was the night,
it slipped from my arms without a trace, and I turned
to follow you, thinking I saw your face, but it was moonlight.
I listened everywhere and every sound I ever learned
I heard, and felt again your breath — I thought I heard you sigh.
I looked for you in the wind. Was it you I felt pass by?

The only way to describe how indescribably beautiful this is would be to write this exact same poem over again. At the risk of repeating myself (or is that YOURself, Fire?), I think I will. May I?.....


I looked for you in the wind; I thought I heard your breath
against my ear, rising and falling. I thought I felt your
fingers in my hair, pushing it back. And like opened doors,
I saw the leaves go silver as they turned, and beyond
each one revealed a universe of midnight starry skies,
opening and closing at your touch. Was it the wind or more
at work? I looked for you behind each one. Was it you or
my heart’s desire to see the stars as your bright eyes.
I reached for you in the air, but the warmth was the night,
it slipped from my arms without a trace, and I turned
to follow you, thinking I saw your face, but it was moonlight.
I listened everywhere and every sound I ever learned
I heard, and felt again your breath — I thought I heard you sigh.
I looked for you in the wind. Was it you I felt pass by?

....sigh.... Yup. That's how beautiful it is.

[firefangled]

Thanks Cdn and Prince. I'm happy you liked it.

[CdnReader]

.

RHYTHM IN MADNESS


In the quiet morning,
I step into my writer's soul
and squeeze through a tiny door
deep deep in the dark darkness
of my mostly untidy mind,

and I go roaming through
strange corridors that lead
to unfamiliar rooms and
brightly lit staircases where
I'm quite sure I've been before,

and everywhere I look
there are new pathways
to follow and new doors to
open and my writer's soul
self-indulgently splashes

through puddles of letters,
scatters them, hopelessly jumbled,
and eagerly wallows in the
delightful nonsense of looking for
the rhythm embedded in the madness.


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[PrinceMyshkin]

.

RHYTHM IN MADNESS


In the quiet morning,
I step into my writer's soul
and squeeze through a tiny door
deep deep in the dark darkness
of my mostly untidy mind,

and I go roaming through
strange corridors that lead
to unfamiliar rooms and
brightly lit staircases where
I'm quite sure I've been before,

and everywhere I look
there are new pathways
to follow and new doors to
open and my writer's soul
self-indulgently splashes

through puddles of letters,
scatters them, hopelessly jumbled,
and eagerly wallows in the
delightful nonsense of looking for
the rhythm embedded in the madness.


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cdn/28dec07
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Looks like you found it - the rhythm, that is, now where's the madness?

Seriously this is an illuminating ramble through your version of the creative process.

[CdnReader]

The madness permeates
all. Have you not
discerned the depths
of my insanity?

[amanda_isabel]

only one
whose insanity matches yours
can discern.

the depths of your insanity are unfathomable,
and often, i find
myself swimming in its beauty
swinging in the strokes of your pen
as i am taken in by a wonderful playground.

[CdnReader]

only one
whose insanity matches yours
can discern.

the depths of your insanity are unfathomable,
and often, i find
myself swimming in its beauty
swinging in the strokes of your pen
as i am taken in by a wonderful playground.

Awwww..... This is very sweet, Amanda. THANK YOU! :D

[amanda_isabel]

:D you never cease to move me, you know

[PrinceMyshkin]

only one
whose insanity matches yours
can discern.

the depths of your insanity are unfathomable,
and often, i find
myself swimming in its beauty
swinging in the strokes of your pen
as i am taken in by a wonderful playground.

As a long-time friend of the person to whom this is addressed, I am presuming to tell you how much your appreciation must mean to her! And what a wonderful thing it reveals about you that you express it so freely and generously!

[V.Jayalakshmi]

Dear Mr.cdn Reader,

I liked your poetry's theme about the 'Door'.I read all of them.Here is one continuation from me.Please be free to comment.

A Day In The Past.
----------------------

Walking through the house,

She came across the cupboard.

The walls are peeled,

The floor is all broken.

It has grown old,this house,

Where she had been young

Memories were there ,

Of this room in the west,

Where the setting sun played,

Its golden harp.

She saw the tree across the window,

Casting its shadow of weaving lights.


She was on a swing this girl of her youth,

Swinging with passion and with friends.

Oh! What days were those,

The days in the past.

Can one bring them back?

The days that were true,

With only small hurts,

That were forgotten when the day was done
Those days in the past,she wants them back.

Can one?If only, I can?

She sat there with her old age and the burden

Of a long lost dream,of being in a house with dreams.

------------------------------------------
P.S.

It is a very humble effort from me.

Thank you.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Dear Mr.cdn Reader,

I liked your poetry's theme about the 'Door'.I read all of them.Here is one continuation from me.Please be free to comment.

A Day In The Past.
----------------------

Walking through the house,

She came across the cupboard.

The walls are peeled,

The floor is all broken.

It has grown old,this house,

Where she had been young

Memories were there ,

Of this room in the west,

Where the setting sun played,

Its golden harp.

She saw the tree across the window,

Casting its shadow of weaving lights.


She was on a swing this girl of her youth,

Swinging with passion and with friends.

Oh! What days were those,

The days in the past.

Can one bring them back?

The days that were true,

With only small hurts,

That were forgotten when the day was done
Those days in the past,she wants them back.

Can one?If only, I can?

She sat there with her old age and the burden

Of a long lost dream,of being in a house with dreams.

------------------------------------------
P.S.

It is a very humble effort from me.

Thank you.

Humble or not, it's a lovely poem, a delicate and evocative one!

(PS: It's Ms Cdnreader)

[CdnReader]

Very nice, V.Jay. I especially liked these lines....



Where the setting sun played,

Its golden harp.

She saw the tree across the window,

Casting its shadow of weaving lights.



Thanks for your contribution! :)

[CdnReader]

.

At the end of a twisting path
bordered by dense hedgerows
that throw long evening shadows,
stands a watery blue door,
framed in beams of yellow.

Its liquid surface shivers and shimmers
and swallows the deepening shadows,
immersing all in its silvery depths.

There is no knob or handle.
Only an unbroken sheet,
enticing her forward.

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[ReynardKitsune]

wow its greay

[blazeofglory]

From a theme inspired by PrinceMyshkin at another place and another time.... :)



Where does your door lead? Feel free to add on....

I find a heap of mysteries in your poem and indeed I am groping for a door that leads to clarity and substantiation