Best Deadbolt Poems
Waiting is the greatest pain,
Though most of me remains slain;
Legs propped up on iron heaters,
In my mouth spins an egg beater-
Roughly, duct tape holds it there,
Wrapped around my crimson hair-
Holding in the spinning end,
Tearing so no one could mend.
Will my torturer return?
I cry to think of all I've learned.
Even through the scars he burns,
He says there's more for me to earn.
Waiting, gurgling, and praying,
Burning, yearning, burnt legs splaying,
I can't conceive what could come after,
I resort to insane laughter.
Though I choke on blood and teeth,
Through the smell of my burnt meat,
I laugh harder, my mind flees
Closer toward insanity.
The deadbolt slides, I hear the door:
Creaking, scratching on the floor,
He walks through, I smell him now,
Expensive cologne flows down.
He leans in, I feel his breath,
Then his hands upon my chest,
He whispers one last sick goodbye,
"You won't be the last to die."
Do Not Open the Door-
Merely because someone or something is on the other side.
There is no—Back to the Future...
NO redo’s’—cannot always simply just close the door.
Once it is open, nothing stays the same.
Nothing is forever…but there are no take backs also.
Take caution in who and what you let through the door…
Think for yourself… trust yourself…
You must stay your course and not wavier…
When the doorbell dings…Pause a moment and think.
Peepholes are good—peek--see—think…
Don't open the door to strangers and things…
Trust your gut…what you know…
Remember those your mama warned you about…
You can always stand quiet---let them leave…they will
Proceed with caution and care--Be very careful before you
Unlock the deadbolt -- unlatch the chain… Turn the knob…
Is it your Density or your Demise…
Knocking on the other side---
…back to the future… 10-21-2015…the movie…
Copyright © fonda anne….mooreofme....mamao
No deadbolt here;
No bell informing
Of presence--
My echo returned,
Calling me
An awakening voice…
Enter, I beckon;
Child of mine
Long before conception--
Loving you
Even when still
and though heartless--
Infant Summation
yet to be christened--
Brought forth shapeless,
Self of infinite imagination-
Dreaming: "To be or not to be?'
all potential, ever expandable--
Immeasurable dark and light…
Your name is written, "Endless, Timeless!"
Indelible ink, that of my spirit--
And the stroll,
A universe, dwelling
In and without
Immortal!
The cabin sits against the forest wall
hidden from human site, it stands alone
isolated
in the dead of winter, the cold has a jagged edge
things crunch
twigs snap, upon a sparrow's landing
the freezing wind brushes painfully across the cabin
like an artist, whose hands are brittle with decay
forcing the branches to scrape along the upstairs window
like fingers trying to get inside.
the cabin creeks, showing its age
as it settles in, for a long winter
outside, the wind continues to show its fury
as the cabin's walls whistle eerily, to see whose listening
the clock chimes downstairs
For now....
we are not concerned about the footprints, leading to the back door
they are of no consequence at the moment
but in a few minutes, maybe less
they will be.
the cabin stands alone
hidden, isolated
in the dead of winter
no one can hear you scream
the deadbolt turns....
How often will I turn my head
reaching for your voice
bidding my feet to walk away
(as if I had a choice)?
How long will I eat thunder
-- like I'm squirreling from the law--
guilty and disgusted
throat scalded raspy raw?
How many nights
will my hand
shake
clutching a new-cut key--
opening a deadbolt door
that now is home to me?
How long will I be tethered
to a life without a chance?
You are calm and ruthless
and this heartbreak's just a dance!
I don’t know why I’'m back again--
can't fight off love's attack--
Your eyes burn like blue blazes
And there is no turning back.
V. Anderson-Throop 2015©
Valdez, Alaska USA
A dark night, no stars, no moon,
light rain
the rumble of distant thunder
a gunshot, close
the sound of feet, running
loud voices, screaming
a car door slamming shut
tires skidding
another gunshot
a pause,
footsteps on the porch
doorknob turning
a rattle of the door
deadbolt holding
police siren, closing fast
footsteps moving
and then it stopped
distant thunder, light rain
no stars, no moon
6/2/17
I'll take some time to dance with my demons.
I'll take some time to speak with my angels.
I'll take some time to think for myself.
I'll take the time to fulfill their requests.
Then, I'll shiftlessly shift through memories of times past;
Unlock corridors and peek through mirrors;
Hoping to find the clearer message, that was once written, just for me;
Because in reverse contexts, it will surely make sense.
But to no end, I bend, to see under thrice turned stones and still come out empty handed.
Trice with might, I'll break through deadbolt doors for a glimpse;
Just to make sure my skeletons are still in their rightful places;
Before I lock them away once again, to rattle in their own disgraces.
Then, I'll take some time to dance with my demons.
I'll take some time to speak with my angels.
I'll take some time to think for myself.
I'll take the time to fulfill their requests.
Then I'll continue to search for the rest.
Form:
There are times the wind will blow a door right in your face.
Sometimes, a door is slammed by members of the human race
There are doors designed to keep some people in and others out.
Sam did not pay his rent; so he was evicted and the door was locked.
Mr. Riley rented the same apartment and was given the door keys.
Some doors have locks on their knobs and also deadbolt locks.
I use to tell my kids, "Until we get to heaven, always lock the doors".
Thieves and robbers will never enter through the doors of heaven.
I once held keys to unlock the doors of banks and other secured places.
I would make deliveries of overnight mail and quickly exit the door.
One morning a bank employee forgot his keys and asked me to let him in.
Without hesitation, I told him "No, it's against policy", and drove away.
If the door bell is in disrepair, there's no choice except to knock, knock, knock.
Sam bought a house, but didn't realize his new home came with sliding doors.
He overlooked 'the door details' in the blueprints of his new home.
So each time he went to check in on the progress of his house,
everything was fine except the doors he assumed were temporary.
He was not use to going through such doors in a private residence.
Sam learned at least one more thing about doors he had not considered.
He was aware of 'door prizes', but learned the hard way about 'door surprises'.
03292017 cj PS Contest, Doors, Richard Lamoureux
Underestimated
A Poem by Debbie_Philly
" I wrote this all the way back in 2009 when i was still getting my footing... "
Underestimated
The wind blows
My mind is frozen
Blocked, deadbolt
Locked
Like a collection
In collapsed verbiage
Feeble attempts suppress
Obstructed
A need for intellectual
Intercourse frenzied as
Life prescribes liberty
Unobstructed
Saving grace for this
Impervious spirit labeled
Women interrupted by
Deprivation
Soul searching questions
Merging unanswered by
Its own complacent fear
Underestimated
No longer will there be
Restrictive whispers in
My ears scattered about
Reassuring
A promise to leave doubt
Behind to plunge ahead
With ideas embraced strong
Undiminished
By: Debbie Kelly
Copyrighted:
3/23/2009
Midnight at my bedroom window
I thought I saw hanging a black widow
When suddenly I heard a bunch of noise
And realized it was a hoodlum gang of boys
Looking for trouble down the street
Making my scaredy-cat heart skip a beat
I could see their shenanigans in the park
I was alone and it was getting dark
Snuck down to check the deadbolt on tiptoe
That’s when I wished I had learned judo
Thoughts of doom set a chain reaction
And launched a panic attack of epic proportion
AP: Honorable Mention 2022
Submitted on September 27, 2018 for contest SCARY OR SPOOKY POEM sponsored by TANIA KITCHIN
Peter Pan Syndrome the most
accurate way to summarize
psychological mindset of yours truly,
particularly as a boy with brown eyes,
who did NOT holistically acclimatize
himself with peers, which insecurity
latched deadbolt draw
bridge guaranteeing Harris
parasite to cannibalize
(figuratively), sans rip
pull sieve flesh eating das guise
nanobot, while clinging with dear life
to mother's apron strings, no surprize
unavoidably, predictably, inevitably,
trauma did successfully burglarize
(more serious than Watergate)
rendering this withdrawn, small size
passive, and docile pipsqueak
human punching bag to other guys,
one puny slip shape lad's bodily statecraft
always ready to capsize
silently suffering lifetime, threatening
afflictions, harming easy target
inculcating aghast fear to socialize
compounded by stature quite undersize
additionally afflicted with minor defect
submucous cleft palate did compromise
vocalization with severe nasality
(iterated previously other poems), where
bullies did zero Kamikaze like to criticize
relentlessly, an ideal
defenceless, friendless,
and helpless "scapegoat" booby prize
scared kid, who stood
stock still cowering in an agonize
zing posture, while my whole felt as if tied
into gordian knot as
"hoodlums" did gleefully antagonize,
yet never confided hostile treatment
to either parent, I wanted to disappear
and DIE, hence escapist wishes aye did fantasize!
Not much about Goldilocks is really well known,
Except she liked to hang out in the woods all alone.
Of other customs and habits we have just a splintering:
She was whiney, persnickety,
And obviously skillful at breaking and entering.
No deadbolt or burglar alarm could defy her.
A common criminal, then, is how history should try her.
The three bears, that morning, had gone outside to forage
For sweet berries and nuts they could add to their porridge.
On returning, they found this young girl in their bed,
And their first misconception was that she was dead.
Since she also was human, they were somewhat afraid,
But after looking around at the mess she had made,
They debated the question of how they should treat her,
Then took a quick family vote and opted to eat her.
Now, bears are opportunistic, don't adhere to the letter,
And when it comes to cuisine, "haute's"* not necessarily better.
These three had had Muslim, a Mormon, a Christian, a Jew,
And a Tibetan monk, just to mention a few.
But they couldn't care less for religious perversity,
When it came to free food, they were all for diversity.
What they weren't quite sure of was how this one they'd render,
Or was she naturally tender because of her gender?
So heed this warning all squatters, all beakers and enterers,
Before invading the space of homeowners or renterers.
Beware lest your miscreant action finagles a sad end,
Like our heroine,
Who never dreamed, I'll be bound,
She would ever be found with three bears chowing down,
Complementing their porridge with Goldilocks and bagels.
*As in "haute cuisine" (pronounced "oat kwee-zeen"), French for "fine dining".
Tomorrow begets tomorrow begets tomorrow
Until the deadbolt day of sweetest sorrow
When discordant bells chime frost on spiral stairs
And time forecloses on it's borrowed wares.
The days beget the days beget the days
Until the dead loss parting of the ways,
As foreseen, yet somehow blind, the jagged close
Guillotines the petals of the golden rose.
The last begets the last begets the last
Until the dead end spell is made and cast
And hearts are silenced, beats reduced to stone,
Consigned to ocean depths to lie alone.
The end begets the end begets the end
Until the deadlock leaving of a friend
On whom the greatest love must now bestow
The sweetest sorrow man will ever know.
The warmth of your fingers
Caressing my shaking shoulders,
The comforting weight of your arm
Resting around my waist.
Until you closed that door.
Rotted wood and a flimsy frame
The rusted golden knob sneers at me
Daring me to open it.
But I won’t.
I claw at the cracked pine,
Burying my nails into the decaying wood,
Shredding the once white paint.
Wishing it were you.
Let’s put the painting
there
no
there
next to that one
yeah
yeah
Socks paired
his rolled tight
hers flat.
Where to eat
Here
No
let’s try that place
the one we keep saying
Sure
perfect
Leg over leg
warmth
we listen to the other breathing
Late
one checks the deadbolt
on the front door
careful not to step
on the sleeping cat