Notes About The Poem


Slightly edited by a slightly deranged Space Cadet ;) on May 29, 2017

A Talking Door - Mental Hospital 1

I sit with the wall against my back. The wall refuses to move despite endless requests.

The door opens and closes its mouth, it wishes to say something, but nothing comes of it, only its letterbox chatters ceaselessly and without any deep meaning to it, drops hints every now and then.

The wall is annoyed with the door, but I am fed up with the noise. I stand to try and look out the window, but...
This place hushed in shadow.  If only I can remember where I went this night, they did throw me in, away from light.

I roll up the walls like a Persian rug, smother the clatter of the metallic letterbox that tries to say goodbye in a thousand words.  I hear its muffled apologies.  I see a hundred neatly white, folded paper sheets fall at my feet, covered in coloured sentences.

I throw shadows at the wall, words at the door, colours at the ceiling; demons increase my estrangement in the small room, then the walls suddenly turn soft and white, my arms are bound behind my back.

Fog dissolves in faithful whispers. Demons grow faces and white clothes. Mouths with broad smiles talk in tongues (heard, understood), carry syringes and multi-coloured pills. 


And day begins.

***

May 1, 2017 
Copyright © Darren White
Copyright © | Year Posted 2017

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Pigeon Tart Avatar
May 2, 2017 at 6:41 AM
Wow. 7. fave.
White Avatar
May 9, 2017 at 1:15 PM
Oh lol ma mo, only see this now! Thank you :D
Ricci Avatar
May 1, 2017 at 1:50 PM
Oh Yes. Once all the aggression lets go and once the expressions release the world becomes right. This is inspired with magnificence with a perfect ending to match the theme and words. Honestly. Well done in its entirety. You are something.....
White Avatar
May 1, 2017 at 1:59 PM
Thanks, Lisa :) And you Lisa, are something too!
Garcia Avatar
May 1, 2017 at 11:15 AM
This is the way poetry is supposed to be written. If I was reading a Philip Levine book and came across your poem I wouldn't think for a moment it seemed out of place. I'd love to see you develop in this style and voice, you could go far. Did you consider the possibility of writing this in the present tense? I think it would add to the intensity by creating a bit of suspense, but that's not to say there's a thing wrong with it now.
White Avatar
May 1, 2017 at 12:24 PM
Hmmmm, I thought about that, present tense... Dunno why I stick to past tense so often. I love that I think. I wrote two in this style more or less earlier. Thanks Phillip.
Herlihy Avatar
May 1, 2017 at 9:55 AM
Very inventive, fascinating, and clever to boot. John
White Avatar
May 1, 2017 at 10:07 AM
Thank you John, happy you like it :)
Williams Avatar
May 1, 2017 at 8:55 AM
Wow Darren , as I said once before you have such a way with words, they roll off your tongue and become 'Pearls '. Thanks for the wisdom that you share with us all.
White Avatar
May 1, 2017 at 9:15 AM
Thank you Maria, this one was incredibly fun to write and terribly difficult the same time.
Smith Avatar
May 1, 2017 at 8:22 AM
Your descriptive brilliance shines in this unearthing piece...I was able to imagine the collage of feelings collapsing all at once.
White Avatar
May 1, 2017 at 8:36 AM
I am so very happy that this was understandable, something that sometimes happens to me and is so abstract that it is hard to put into words :)
Green Avatar
May 1, 2017 at 8:19 AM
Amazing, once again my friend. Your talent is multi-faceted, the depth of your thoughts always produce something that causes us to think. Rolling the walls up like carpets. I loved that picture you created. Nicely done Darren.
White Avatar
May 1, 2017 at 8:35 AM
That was one delirious delusion :) I am glad you like the way I managed to condense it into a poem.
Solomon Avatar
May 1, 2017 at 6:10 AM
Only the inmates truly understand this write, Duir! The stories I could tell as well, my friend! I love your wounded words, my friend! (At least you can smoke in yours)
White Avatar
May 1, 2017 at 6:15 AM
Wounded words... what a great expression. But yes, completely true Budgie.... Hug Brendan from me :)
Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace