Best Peephole Poems
An infinite door of midnight blue;
glowing peephole that is the moon.
Dare I look before turned to dust?
Yes, dear friend, I surely must.
In the midst, a city of finest gold,
large as the earth; immense and bold.
Quoins of pearl, this must be known,
the lusture seemed a life, it's own.
Rising from it, a mountainous temple;
whisps of prayers escape the steeple.
Without the city, fields of crystal flowers,
and trees more akin to wind chime towers.
Platinum trunks doning metalic leaves.
Angelic music when brushed with their wings.
Out from all this, layers of various planes
seemingly worlds of their own, yet all of the same.
Once starving children and homeless ones too,
with comforts of home; endless tables of food.
One plane of great sports, children running free;
prosthetics and wheelchairs, now trophies and glee.
Another, Indian braves running with buffalo,
women laughing carefree with children in tow.
Serene planes of beaches and tropical breezes.
On none was found pain, lameness or diseases.
Thousands of planes, but my favorite to view;
families and the ancients with no need of adieu.
So euphoric, this sight, but there is more to tell,
as three glorious chimes of the great temple bell.
All froze still as beams of golden light
transported them to the temple in quiet.
The most beautiful prayers and songs arose.
From within the city; pure love aglow.
Three bells again and all were beamed out;
some to the same planes, some different routes.
I wanted so badly, to open the door
and be in this place forever more,
but the door was locked and I had no key,
then an angel turned and flew towards me.
Approaching the peephole, that is the moon,
It said, "Don't worry, you'll be here soon."
I have need of a key, I began to implore,
and it slipped a note neath the midnight door.
I unfolded the note; three lines within,
and three nails fell out; payment of sin.
The first line proclaimed, the door was faith.
The second; the beams are God's loving grace.
Overcome by peace as I read the third line.
Jesus is the way, the truth and the light,
and I remembered a scripture that so sweetly states;
"For by grace, through faith, are ye saved."
“It’s a terrible love
And I’m walking with spiders…
It’s a terrible love and I’m walking in
Its quiet company…”-Birdy
Three long claws enclosed around a lone beating heart
Stone talons gripping in happy malice, silently angry by its pulse it cannot feel…
The longer I stare into the hollow sockets seeing only ugliness,
The easier it becomes to break into pieces over the mere thought of you
I thought it was a dull beat- a throbbing, fading beat disappearing into the night…
Though your image, once so grainy, is becoming clearer and clearer in the fogs of my consciousness
I thought it was just a dull, callous beat…
But the more it throbs against the stone, the more the stone cracks
The more the demon cries in anguish…the more I fall
So deeply in love have I become,
I can barely breathe in this misty embrace
The suspense of your blows make my innards whimper…make my mind shiver
My tearful eyes cry for your assurance
My body changes through the peeks of your light
It is all a joke!
This is all pathetic, low, meaningless!
Surely these claws over this heart do not exist
Holding onto nothing but dead spiders who once weaved miracles
Dust and spider legs….spider eyes…they had seen so much…felt so much with their prickly appendages
Through a lovely peephole beyond the three stoned fingers…
I see the entire world where they must have crawled
A world holding you…
If only I could hold you too…
Something tells me I would never let go if I had the chance
Something tells me I would crush you
I would turn you into dust and spider legs…
And yes, as all demons enjoy, I would lose you
In the grip of the three stoned fingers
Unless…
You were that heart I thought I had seen…
The heart that continued to beat long after it was ripped out
The clenched heart that throbbed despite its crushing cage
The very heart that bled and bled for no body and all for the sake of love
Beating and beating, cracking those frigid fingers
Into dust…
And all of the fallen limbless creatures would gather round…
And they would tell me… “He lives yet still…”
Weaving in their webs the very bloods and salts you pumped
Within me…and beyond me
Dead spiders weave and weave and weave…
And unlike human hearts, their ideas never tire
I find that if I cut a lens-size hole
in a cardboard box then place that box
over my head
at night,
the stars form new constellations;
strangely, they can jump time and space
to shine within my eyes.
I find that when I peer through
that eye-hole cut in the box,
that both good and evil
seem to live together, coupled
by the closeness of their separation.
In the box, I find myself
to be almost happy for you.
Love and hate fade in and out,
upon your features
as your face glows darkly angelic.
I find that if I see a dead raccoon
on the road I think
of the Jewish prayer for the dead,
maybe it’s the pajamas they wear,
they only wear half-pajamas, but then
I am only half-Jewish.
Most concentration camps
are left open. You never can tell
which abandoned blood-stained factory
once was a death-camp or perhaps
will be again.
I find myself (when head in a box),
to be the ghost of everyone I have
ever seen from a distance;
close-up the box hides everything.
The carboard box has the power
to see scenes of ecstasy and horror
as one moment repeating itself
over and over aging,
and the peephole is always
too small to tell the difference.
A man once had to climb the mountain of truth to discover his fountain of youth, with hopes of finding greatness in false truths but he found it in you, when opportunity knocks sometimes we don't even bother to look through the peephole, but yet we keep hope until we realize every chance you don't take equals to zero, no matter if you have to skip, crawl, hop, or leap....it doesn't matter if you're strong or weak, add fuel to your drive because opportunity is around the corner and you're in the front seat.
We were strapped in ready for take-off,
the engines churning all around us.
We'd longed for this moment,
but when it came we were scared rigid,
wondering if we'd survive.
"Countdown to take-off!" the captain roared.
Gritting our teeth we made ready.
pushed hard into our seatbacks with stomachs
turning cartwheels we were off at last!
bright lights and bogus noises
surging from under the blankets.
There was a wobble and a whistle,
the signals to burst out at warp speed.
Our bodies felt the rush, the rumble
and finally the jolt of the touch down.
"Look out the peephole! We're on the moon!"
the captain cried. And sure enough, we weren't
in Kansas anymore. The moonscape was
strangely full of familiar looking objects,
Grandma's afghan flowing like a river,
what looked like the pillows
from Jimmy's bed, crumpled like space debris,
and my school project, a volcano
puffing out baking powder.
Yep, this was the moon alright.
"Imaginations still intact," Jimmy yelled,
"but how are we gonna get home?"
Kiss of Judas, Translation of Pierre Emmanuel’s Le Baiser de Judas by T. Wignesan
In our century where one sells father and mother
Husband his wife and wife her husband
And who doesn’t with ease dispose the only brother
Gives up yet two scorched by blade and fire
Of course breath comes hard to him who thus
Horribly heartless sacrifices his friend
But efforts turn to Nought before man comes of age
Who without remorse at first is forced to vomit
Disembowelled in one’s own mummified body
No one’s spared by the multitude
Which draws us into it all like an epidemic
Each is smothered in the crowd as in the prison cell
All become lambs : who’s to be betrayed first
Under constant surveillance yet others to victimise
Each spies within the circle surrounding him
His soul lives stuck to the peephole
And if while in their midst they catch him in the act
To punish him they give him up to the Law
Thus every man in the steps of an apostle
Seeking to be approved worships the Law
The great one-eyed lady
The arrogant goddess
Whoever stands for such justice demeans his spirit
And creates in us a vile and villainous heart
In the name of the men of law and the public force
All functionaries like you and I
In this Darkness where Emptiness reigns supreme
I mete justice out to Judas
What he did he did for me
So that I might in turn do the same
Kissing the forehead in good faith
To such as he all over the earth
Every day umpteen times I vow
The mecanical anger
Of the labourers of the Law
(from Pierre Emmanuel’s Les Jours de la Passion)
© T. Wignesan – Paris, October 11, 2014
Yet again the door is being knocked
For ages it’s been closed
Who's there?
The Sun looks down
The Breeze Halts!
Tulips raise their heads in delight..
But the Cascade continue to flow__ like an indifferent Bee
Knock___ knock___ Knock!
How persistent the knocking is...!!
But what is there?
Its light from the peepholes
Enlightens every corner of the Valley,
Old Cider tree opens his eyes
Sheds away, with one jerk,
All dead leaves...
Pale, sick and dried..
Which now floats on the waves,
Concealing image of the orange sitting sun,
In the cascade__ for a while.
At once, Gigantic Mountain roars in panic,
The sun closes its eyes,
Breeze hides away in a dark cave,
Tulips are now harming themselves in despair,
For the light from peephole is fading..
I can hear sound of a pair of feet going away..
There is but No more knocking…
It’s dark now!
Tiny little moon is waiting for the stars to shine,
The valley is silent
But noice of Cascade, ____ of distance Wolves
And somewhere far behind the Forbidden Forest
The door is still closed…
~~~~~~_____________***____________~~~~~
____________________________________________________________________________________
3rd December, 2020 (12: 01)
Originally posted in February, 2020.
Note:
Cascade symbolizes TIME.
Sitting sun: End of life or old age, sadness etc.
Somebody asked me what does the Line "Concealing image of the orange sitting sun, In the cascade" mean. Here is the explanation: when you get rid of your burdens, pains, worries etc, that's the moment when you are truly alive. You might you even stop aging if you are happy. Same happenens here, deade leaves of Cider (burdens, tensions & illness of it) hide sitting sun's reflection in fhe water.
And I hope you have noticed the pronoun *I* which as you can see, appeared quite late in the poem. Happens when you nullify/neglect yourself. This "I" is thematically very significant.
Plus note, the Valley is behind the forbidden forest, that is also thematically important.
Knock, knock, knock!
A lover at the door
The other adjust his clothes
The handle turns their hearts
Knock, knock, knock!
An officer at the door
An eye on the peephole
The handle breaks apart
Knock, knock, knock!
A lawyer at the door
A lover in a gaol
The other with a get out of jail free card
Knock, knock, knock!
A mother at the door
The mother eyed the Judas whore
All her necklace and bracelets she took back
Nowhere to go but vertigo
Going vertical on weary tippy toe
Tinker and thinker
Of time traveler gizmos
Warping
Escaping
Jumping ship on life saver worm holes
Colliding lips of psychos doing the calypso
Wearing colorful straitjacket calico
I see everything using eagle eye ego
Playing peekaboo peeking through
The peephole seeing the truth
Behind all the lying people
Who pretend to be sincere and humble
Anti-hero with a mouthful
of marihuana sour diesel
Sweet magnetic mouth massaging
Your modem mental muscle
No more simple fast food rhymes
Overdue on eating your complex
Edgar Allen flow vegetables
Lines like these are instant
Movie star action figure collectibles
Vintage
Classic
Top-notch like a shot of aged scotch
Shocking, leaving a tingling feeling
In your aging genitals
Morning light shimmers
Floating dust welcome;
Excited salutation
World awakes
Noisy traffic;
Rush of work day
Knock on the door
Peephole lookout;
Real estate agent
Morning cuppa
Fortified supplements;
Health insurance
Bamboo trees
Walkway sentinels;
Windy voices hum
Old plumeria tree
Speaks in vivid colours;
Reds, yellows, whites bloom
Lift alarm screaming
Fire drill or short circuit;
Irritating noise
Balcony view
Ant-people far below;
Busy antics ply
Temple oracle
Praying on a wish;
Curious bystanders
Church petitions
Man keeps busy asking;
Attendance compulsory
Despite our faiths
Man remains unchanged;
Unsure and insecure
Voice of dawn
Hurling new songs;
Rapture unnoticed
Bold ideas fashion
New collections;
Recycle old orbits
Day after day
Same old, same old;
What's new pussycat
Hymn and prayer
Endless petitions;
Too much noise
Go deeply now
Linger right here;
Discern afresh
When, where and how
Who, why and what;
Unanswered questions
Weary and tired
Dreary world swirls;
Awaiting salvation
Look beyond reason
To fit new rhymes;
Seasonal permutations
Looking out
Peeping in;
Who cares
Lost in the crowd
I search for something;
I don't know why
Rules are rules
Useful as tools;
Transcend and discard
Once in a while
A sincere smile;
Cynics fling piles
Go beyond terms
Let feelings style;
Spontaneous voice
Seek then the light
Beyond meaning;
Seize true rapture
When the soul awakes
Magic and mystic
Charm with bold say
Words once empty
Pregnant with rapture;
Creation sings
In a clear vessel
The empty space:
Is most valuable
Go beyond form
Beyond norm;
Flirt with impulse
Words are devices
Language crude formats;
Soul sublimates
Sense a sure gap
Between said and done;
Herein possibilities field
Leon Enriquez
16 August 2014
Singapore
Every night at 2 a.m., I do this;
I fill an empty butter bucket(3lb) with food
dry, crunchy, smelly, high calorie, fatty cat food.
It leads to adventures I just dont want to miss.
I turn on the bright light above my back door,
I sneak out into the night, with my curiousity and smile.
I love this small bit of mischief, just wait til I get it on file!
Every night this ritual leaves me wanting more.
I throw down a splattering of food, clink, crash, plop.
All of my strays come running, dashing round all corners of the house.
Wanting fed, they move so brashly, so clumsy, quickly as if for a mouse.
Little funny noises from their mouths, crunch, smack, chomp.
I spend a little time, petting while they let me...
And I am also just waiting, just biding my time.
As I wait for my bandits to act out their little crime.
Ten minutes may pass, and Ive given the signal, Im ready.
I go back inside as noisy as I like, and I wait.
Through my peephole I peek, soon enough out of the undergrowth,
comes a wee little possum,raccoon, or skunk, one or three or both.
I laugh to myself; my little bandits now have their cherished bait.
Suns. Most often moons.
Slithering like a plague
From a craving nowhere
To a playful peephole
Which the poet himself can’t find.
Now it’s there—
Stains!
Now, what?
.Y r men dog if women cnt be *****es
Y r women hoes if men also out here gettin it
Y do we fite wit guns instead of hands
Y do lil niggaz get guns n think dey da man
Y did ppl tell me I was gonna be nuttin in life
Y did I fuk dat gurl? Dat was somebodys "wife"
Y do I get stared at by white ppl
Y do blk ppl die first in erry sequal
Y r we walkin through da world blind
Y dnt we let our inner souls shine
Y do we as men chase da cat
Y do ladies put it out dere to gives us somethin to bite at
Y do rappers influence kids to use violence
Y did da world fuk maya angelou to where she lived in silence
Y do ppl die at all
Y can't dey stay wit us n live a life so long
Y do dese fuk niggaz beat women
Y do dese dumb women keep lettin em
Y don't dese dead beat dads do somethin
Y don't dese baby mommaz stop frontin wen dey do somethin
Y I cnt jus have a gurl fo me n ain't fo da team
Y she gotta be a hoe or gold digga dats only bout dat cream
Y chiks fitin ova niggaz n vice versa
Y is ***** niggaz becomin contagious like mersa
Y do ppl talk about chu n den smile like thangs kool
Y do da person protectin his life get put outta skool
Y am I too nice to ppl
Y do I see through games like a peephole
Y r we shunned fo not goin to church
Y do da ppl dat shun do dirt afta church
Y da ppl dat dnt like me jus stare
Y do I be laughin wen i see em errywhere
Y am I such an ******* now
Y do females gotta keep playin around
Y u hataz mad at me
Y am I askin dat question? Y'all cn stay mad at me
Welcome signs spreads dah floor_
And here I stand just before.
There’s Happy people inside therein_
It's soon to open_ don't know when.
Peeping through dah peephole
waving to dah crowd_
doing my best_ not ta get loud.
I keep-a ringing dah doorbell_
could give a shout er yell;
darn things' a'working_
as far as I give tell.
Welcome signs spreads dah floor_
And here I stand just before.
There’s Happy people inside therein_
It's soon to open_ don't know when.
Seeing through dah win'da and whaddaya know_
They’s doing the limbo and dah dirty disco.
Musics' a'playing_ They’s a'dancing the jig
Ole man Thomas' bout to lose his wig.
There’s and ole friend o mine.
chugg-in on tasty moon shine_
while sipping Pete's brandy wine.
N starr-in at dah pretties n fine
Welcome signs spreads dah floor_
And here I stand just before.
There’s Happy people inside therein_
It's soon to open_ don't know when.
Aww smokes alive_ They got Toro cigars_
see-em plucking ashes in dah ole fruit jar_
n havin knee slappin funnin at dah end of dah bar.
Oh darnit to devil_ my unlucky stars
cain't they hear me bangin so_
won't be long_ but I don't know.
Its been a while now just a bit_
Lets turn the knob or jiggle it.
Welcome signs spreads dah floor_
And here I stand just before.
There’s Happy people inside therein_
It's soon to open_ don't know when.
Porch light shi-nin clean in my face_
what's dah password ta-git in dis place?
I can do dah tap, dah twist and dah flip_
Can I pleeease come in for just a sip.
Guard dogs a'barkin all dis time_
Inclined to become friends o mine.
Open up _if you’d be so kind
Or is membership here’s by strange design?
Welcome signs spreads dah floor_
And here I stand just before.
Why I keep a'knocking_ just what for?
Cuz whatever I do_ they just ignore.
Blood gushes from the seams where the ceiling meets the walls
I hear screams echo past my door and all throughout the halls
Just outside my apartment window, it’s bedlam as the sky falls
Suddenly, across our torso’s, a throbbing pain crawls
Satan’s playing with his voodoo dolls
The blood slides down and creates a pool on the floor
Seeps from under my fingernails just to add to the gore
Up to my knees in thick crimson and I don’t know what for
I can’t imagine the world that paints itself just outside my door
Through the peephole I see... that there is no world anymore.