Best Doorstep Poems
An Angel, came in human form.
Arrived at my house about noon.
I knew he had a spirit, for he was
past any norm.
And my keen, mystical soul, was
right with him in tune.
We chatted for just a bit...
The uniqueness of his spirit showed.
I did not want him to ever leave
or quit.
For as I ascertained, I was in a most
heavenly zone.
Suddenly, I looked down, and the startled
to see the that Angel had but one leg!
It quite startled me, greatly because he
had such great agility.
I was at a loss for words when he told me
he was more than grateful?
To say that I was astonished, is to meet him
goes beyond anything fateful.
He was perhaps but twenty-five, at most,
I gathered as he related.
A great wife and two children and
seeking a job was he, which all three
he celebrated.
The story goes a drunk driver, ten years ago
hit him and there went his leg.
But to him, it was a night with gratitude
he celebrated.
He made me look at my life here
at the Soup.
I should be grateful and elated!
But my ego crushes me, with few
comments I feel diminished, and
yes deflated.
Now here was an Angel, who told
me, he ran obstacle courses
around the world!!
And here I was, thinking at Poetry
Soup feeling all deflated.
He stood with one leg in contrast
like a magnificent,glowing emerald!
I never came here to be famous
or seeking any poetic glory.
It took an Angel with but one leg,
To remind me to stop sniveling and
groaning.
To seek to give, not have others listen
to my insipid, selfish moanings.
September 3, 2020
5:30am PST
* Requestiing positive responses, no
discussion on drinking, please*
I hear a rustle-
A quiet struggle
As emotions entangle.
The wind stirs it
Out from my bosom-
Love in one gust,
Wrath in another!
A tussle.
A ruffle.
A shuffle.
Quiet again!
The cold wind blows
Against the warmth of sun.
The warm sun soothes
Against the cold of wind.
Passion in one whiff,
Ache in another!
Loud and quiet,
Quiet and loud.
Off the branch of memories
Fall the wilted browns;
Bare, bruised trees
Brave the wind.
A clump.
A lump.
A dump…
On the doorstep of spring!
tomato harvest begins
pumpkin fields turn gold
a nip in the air
Bleak
Gray day,
Biting breeze
Offers portent
And tumbles autumn’s harvest of sere leaves
To winter’s foreboding, icebound doorstep:
Stacked, stands cordwood,
Shovels wait,
First snow
Looms.
Finger print and claws on your wall
The door is near but in minds its far
Your voice won't let out that call
Telephone ring thinking its a stall
Darkness dull the night with bloody moon
With no more space in your room
It's that feeling of being doom
You feel like your time is soon
Regrets and flashback fills your mind
Thinking back to the good old time
Where everything was going fine
You didn't had to worry about a dine
Your life was in all direction like vine
Now it pains you to walk that straight line
I feel you...
I flutter with joy when I see you....
I float and I am weightless,
I am in your arms......
I share a moment with you,
evergreen, timeless, forever!
It's mine and It's yours.
Surely we don't fly but I am lifted....
Kissed on my doorstep
by you.......
The clouds have gone now
and many rainbows later,
I'm here to see you again....
To say what it felt, to kiss you
for last time....to tell you
I'm yours, like I was then....
On life’s doorstep we stand alone
At its mercy like an abundant orphan
Frantic yanks on the lock and chain
To escape our fear of the unknown
On life’s doorstep there’s no welcome home mat
Desperate bare knuckled knocks dissipate
The door’s fortified, shaped like a tombstone
Embedded in a six-foot deep foundation
The doorknocker ‘s out of reach
Life’s shut and we struggle for every inch
On this doorstep we feel like an unwelcome stranger
An unexpected guest, forbidden, never to entre
We await our turn in the long queue
Many fall off the edge before their cue
Some pick the lock trying to cheat
Quickly reminded that this life has no shortcut
Wondering if our DNA isn’t the code to access
If our talent isn't the key that will unlock our success
Before the descend of the drawbridge
And we’re crushed in the stampede
In this neighbourhood there’s nothing familiar
We guess the address there’s no house number
Out of a thousand doors this one shows the most promise
We patiently knock and callout to whomever may answer
We hope life’s looking through the peephole
Before our past pulls us into the abysmal
That mercy’s the hinges that will swing the door open
Turn the doorknob before the neighbours complain
surprised at letting someone
through the backdoor of my life
not wanting it to work
in so many different ways
wanting the grief to continue
to carry on with its destruction
wanting the mourning to
plow through undisturbed
wanting to maintain the momentum
of the familiar downward spiral
to the utter depths of hell
not wanting to be okay
not wanting to silence
the voices in my head
not wanting to be freed
from the weight off my back
most of all not wanting to
pick up and start anew
not wanting to fill the void
scared to feel okay
AP: Honorable Mention 2022
Submitted on April 22, 2022 for contest A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE CHOICE sponsored by BRIAN STRAND
Submitted on April 20, 2022 for contest ANYTHING YOU WANT sponsored by CHANTELLE ANNE COOKE
Darkness dances on my doorstep
But I'm not about to let it in
The darkness will pound and howl
And even curse me to oblivion
But that door remains shut
No way will I be fooled
Ever again
And as shooting stars rain
Across the night sky
I hear the song of the universe
Even over the calls
Of the darkness
Dancing all alone on my doorstep
Mad that I refuse to tango
Angry over a broken plastic flamingo
A sign of toxic friendship
Forgotten
On the doorstep
But I refuse to be weak again
And give in
Because the darkness
Envelops and overwhelms
A cascading casket of cosmic callousness
Ensnaring like a heavy blanket
So when you see me
Standing in front of the door
You may see a single tear
And a hand on the doorknob
As darkness dances on my doorstep
I'm (not) about to let it in
I awoke to the sight
Of Sunlight.
He splashed into my window.
He filled the halls.
He climbed the stairs.
He turned around
And went out the door.
From my window
I watched him,
Walking with light footsteps-
Everywhere.
People walked past him
Hurriedly,
As if they didn't know
That he was there.
You're fighting a war
You'll win but what do you do after your victory?
You'll drink, dance and merry
Invite the lords of stars to break bread
And the daughters of moon to warm your bed-
and then...?
That is to say you do not fight without a purpose.
Name your hurdles before you jump them
They will help put honour in your bloodline
Fright in the bodies and souls of your foes
And lead your children through
When they come of age to choose their gods
I'll be saying two prayers tonight
One for me and one for you
You'll find it in the fragrance of the rose I left-
by your doorstep.
Micheal Ace
#magicalpoetry
©ACEworld
Each human is home for himself
but many forget to clean that house
before they invite someone in
with backs against
we'll live our choices
now my heart has an uncleaned memory of you
Images roll daily trampled by incivility
Far away enough yet close to humanity
Mired by evil, engrossed in misery
Where being born feels like a tragedy.
Longing for mercy, smile tries to emerge
Straining weary mind every grin hurts
Yet, life goes on unfazed by distress
Amid stormy rain wishing for a sunny day.
Untouched by pain world disdain reigns,
Forlorn eyes concede burden of debt
Paying it with pride extracted from dignity
For being a recipient at destiny's doorstep.
March 27, 2018
Like eagles,
we soar—gliding
through the sky of life.
Through social turbulence
challenging our rise,
we continue to ascend;
the horizon before us.
Into the realm—like lions of Judah
roaring, we leave winged trails
in the traveled winds of time.
In our going
we leave
three little birds:
pecking assiduously
at the doorstep of reality.
When I am old and the hour of death is close at hand I shall count the falling grains of sand and traipse in dance a book of dreams to lie along the winding stream
I shall confess each sin upon the sky and drown the guilt of days gone by.....
held in his aged hands
lie folded with silken lines
one thousand poems