Best Doors Poems
There are so many doors
Which ones should I choose
Green, yellow, brown, purple
and many different blues
Some of them are rustic
Others modern and clean
Some lead to the future
others back where I've been
Some doors open easily
while quite a few are locked
There are some left open
and others that are blocked
A few so enticing
promise pleasure within
They are slightly hidden
so few will see me sin
I look through some keyholes
wondering if I'll be safe
I see rooms of plenty
and tables draped in lace
The doors that are daunting
they fill me with such dread
for I know there's sadness
in the land of the dead
Many doors are happy
Friends and loved ones are there
those doors are the best ones
being with people who care
Behind some there's music
Pleasured time we can share
Moments of pure magic
those times are far to rare
Doors leading to adventure
Made me glad I took the chance
The sheer exhilaration
that caused my spirit to dance
Some doorways disguised as books
Yes they caused my mind to grow
They pointed to other doors
so I knew which way to go
The doors that I left closed
In the end I don't regret
They could have brought me ruin
or led my soul into debt
Of all the doors I'll walk through
The final one is the best
For there my Saviour waits
therefore, I know I am blessed
Poem of the Day 3-24-19
child, I wish I could bear all pains for you
but then some doors in your heart
would never swing open
Nobody knows what goes on behind this hotel door
‘Mr Smith’ isn’t with his wife of that I’m pretty sure!
He’s with his mistress Sue, they are having an affair
But he is a cheating love rat and he doesn’t really care
A barrage of fists is flying at number twenty-two
Sally covers her bruises, what else can she do
Her man is a bully and hits where nobody can see
She’s got no one to turn too otherwise she would flee
Harry is all alone since his dear wife has died
He’s desperately lonely but filled with such pride
His family only live on the other side of the city
But are so busy with their lives, isn’t that a pity
Post builds up in his letter box, there’s milk left at his door
Neighbours think they’ve seen him but they aren’t really sure
The police arrive; break down his door and Harry’s lying dead
He’d fallen down the stairs; dried blood lay round his head
Peter is an alcoholic and he suffers from depression
He has bouts of violence, he’s known for his aggression
Since his wife walked out on him he’s attempted suicide
His life has gone downhill since he lost his lovely bride
Little Sally wants to hide when she sees Phil the baby sitter
He makes her do ‘things’ with him, if she won’t he says he’ll hit her
She’s subjected to sexual abuse that no child should endure
But her parent’s are oblivious when they walk out that door
Nobody really knows what goes on behind closed doors
I wonder would you divulge what happens behind yours?
Doors Contest
Sponsored by Richard Lamoureux
03~23~17
‘Enter and explore’ read the sign above Blake’s Hall.
Sliding open the French doors I stepped inside
where I was greeted by a row of coloured doors.
Intrigued, I approached a green door, rested my hand
on the knob and turned it slowly. Peeping in I glimpsed
hope and harmony holding hands...then behind I espied
two scary beasts, eyes gleaming with greed and envy.
Hastily I closed the door and moved to the next, a red one.
Its intensity drew me like a magnet, and unhesitatingly
I opened it to reveal a room divided in two sections; in
one, passion, love and desire lay in warm embrace...
in the other, danger and malice lurked in the dim light.
Unsure of myself, I walked on to the next, a yellow door.
With renewed energy I stepped in to be met by joy’s
cheerful countenance, but this soon was obscured by
the unpleasant smell of sickness and foul decay.
Again, another hasty exit which led me to a purple door.
Inside I witnessed luxury; felt an aura of power, mystery...
at the same time foreboding gloom, and frustration
sent a shiver up my spine; uneasily I closed the door behind me.
Perplexed, abandoning my curiosity, I headed for the exit.
At that moment it dawned on me what Blake’s Hall stood for…
It was a clear reference to ... the doors of perception.
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© 31st March 2017
I see three doors before me.
The one to the left is blue, a beautiful lupis blue
with ornate lacework in its center.
Parisian-esque, it looks likes an entrance to adventure
and inspires me with its sophistication.
I imagine inside the rooms beyond that door
exotic curios on shelves along the walls
or tables heaped with charming little treasures.
My muse’s curiosity is sparked!
The middle door I see is that of a welcoming house.
Beneath two large rectangles of decorative glass
hangs a straw wreath adorned with festive flowers.
A friendly-looking white lab sits in front of this door
and on each side of it on the old-fashioned porch
are two pots of pretty geraniums.
I imagine beyond this door friends and family
gathered around the kitchen table
finishing Mom’s delicious apple pie
and preparing to break open a pack of cards
or sit beside their fireplace, playing charades
or perhaps singing along to a guitar.
The part of me that longs for warmth of family
lingers at this door.
The last door I spy
much farther away and surrounded by trees
is a light green door blending in with nature,
unadorned and not as high as the first two doors.
Were it a bit smaller and round, it could almost be
the door to a hobbit’s cottage.
A bower of vines spreads around it
covering the brown bricks of the house,
and a short cobblestone pathway leads upward
to this simple but interesting door.
I know that if I open it and wander in,
solitude will surely greet me, a solitude so sweet
that when I shut the door behind me,
I’ll leave behind the stresses of my life.
I will have entered another world
where I can rest and meditate. . .
perchance to write.
I look back at the first door, imagining the thrill
of discovery. Its charming blue entices me.
Then I return my gaze to the second door
from which warmth and empathy exude.
I redirect my gaze to the third door. . .
Which do I want more?
New experiences? Intimacy? Peacefulness?
Creative inspiration could reside behind all three.
Which one do I choose?
Which one would YOU choose?
March 28, 2017
for the Doors Contest of Anthony Biaanco
God will open doors
Normally shut by mankind
He will make a way
The corridors of life are rarely straight:
Not only do they bend and twist and veer,
We find the way ahead becomes unclear,
Soon blocked by doors -- each door, a different fate.
We’d like to take our time, to contemplate,
But time will press, and each will urge, “Come here,
I lead to bliss. Take me, and have no fear!”
How can we know which course to navigate?
Still in the end we’re forced to make a choice,
Interring almost-futures in the past,
And pick one door to open, if we dare.
We hope the door we choose makes us rejoice,
But this is a decision which will last:
Whatever ends it leads to, we must bear.
December 23, 2019
"Open Me First" Italian Sonnet Contest
Cracked Doors
It offered solace
an escape from life’s torment,
false comfort – oblivion’s
denial of the truth,
the lie of living’s afterlife.
Trembling hands reached out
in search of hope’s lost promise,
a door ajar, a welcome,
open invitation
to shed death’s robe, to live again.
John G. Lawless
contest – Door to a Wayra
7/16/2014
Clumsily tripping, over our own feet
Sometimes, minds aren't meant to meet
perhaps we're off just a micro beat
thoughts obscured, behind glass covered in sleet
Sure there are those, who wish to exploit
but really in the end, what's the point?
We're all merely visitors, in this joint
Trying our best, with words to annoint
Cloisterd in shadows, wanting to be found
glimmers of earlier selves, clowning around
When others laugh, why do our fears compound?
Downturned mouths, strangled crying sounds
Embarrassing moments, last an eternity
Sometimes I'm my very worst enemy
Thinking hidden messages, are meant for me
Is that what poetry is meant to be?
I let essential words, roll off my lips
Credentials have no taste, when I take deep sips
Preferring a message, from a page that drips
My mind unfocused, takes many trips
I like the power, of words intrinsic
Flavors and texture, is what I like to lick
If it's too saccharin and sweet it makes me sick
My pleasure comes, from words hot and thick
So you see, I too like to word explore
Words found, behind a cryptic door
I start upright, end up on the floor
Keep on reading, until I can't absorb anymore!
Written at the request of James Horn.
Response to his "to Come Back Again" Poem.
Thanks James, our interaction led to a poem of the day!
Closed doors
Especially if they are bolted shut
Why refuse to move on?
Why do you keep knocking at that particular door?
As if your very next breath depended
On someone answering
On someone opening
It is closed for a reason
Maybe your destiny is not behind that door
Stop knocking
Stop forcing your way in
Change is good
At time a necessity
To find your place in the world
Move on
@084024122014
You slowly open the door
...."These doors"....
And what is behind them
Quickly leaps out
Trying to take hold
An invitation
Toward the unknown....
The battle begins
Begins, for it's control!
Pandoras box
The forbidden fruit
When will you learn?
When will you know?
How many times
Must you fall?
How many tears
For them all?
A lifetime of lessons
A lifetime of doors
......"Time".......
At the end of the hall
At the end
The end of it all!
How many doors
Have you left to turn?
"When"....Will you ever learn?
These doors, like metaphors....
Knock knock, who's there?
Turn right
No, turn left
Through this door
No, go through that
Past it's corridore, to
It's if and or....
To, it's other door
No, it's many doors
Any doors?
In the end, you shall choose!
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{......Doors.......}
When you were way too young
How the hell were you to know
Their secrets and sins would hurt your world
No chance for you to grow
Only tears for you to show
Your Behind Closed Doors...
And in my dream I walk corridors with old creaking floors,
deep in the sanctum of my soul echoes stir calling me to come;
soon, I enter a hall of doors, doors and doors . . .
red doors painted bright, green doors with polished knobs.
Blue, deeply and darkly lovely blue, varnished doors,
a heavy ornate church door, ajar, beckoning hymns drift;
one hundred year old doors with brass chimes, portals to long ago,
wide barn doors in antique grey, opening wide, thresholds.
Doors with stripped, chipped white paint, oh my beating heart,
rounded doors, wooden doors, some to push, some to pull;
through a long forgotten door the wreckage of my life . . .
A door opens, new and polished shiny, the entrance to where?
Closed doors, swinging doors, locked doors with a sign Do Not Open,
doors with steps, doors with brass keys dangling;
and doors with chimes, press here for access, my dear,
then, I see two doors side by side, a simple cedar door- a golden door.
Oh, I stand unsure, which door? I hesitate and then,
I put my hand on the knob of the golden door- nirvana is beyond;
then, I open the simple cedar door, which takes me to the here and now,
and I breathe a sigh of relief, yes, this is exactly where I need to be.
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March 24, 2017
Poetry/Prose /Doors, Doors, and Doors
Copyright Protected, ID 03- 887-007-24
All Rights Reserved, 2017, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Doors
sponsor, Richard Lamoureaux, Judged 08/2021
Seventh Place
Delightfully open the doors of window
Observe the creatures near the meadow
O! See those dancing damselflies
Rapture, they accord and amplify
Stop searching bliss, just open the doors, as there it is
Delightfully open the doors of your mind
Observe the diversities the societies bind
On seeing unity in diversity, good people boast
Righteously, they unite people across the coasts
Stop mocking differences, celebrate them by opening the doors, if can't just break
July 22 2021
Drops of hues on dews
Your vibrant doors are in bloom
Gone is all my gloom
######
It’s time to unlock
Drop my time-stopping letters
Sooner than later
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Rain is at your door
Moments won’t come back again
Greet it in your veins
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Wide eyes at the door
I’ve to get down from the train
To cave in still more…
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