Best Swinging Door Poems
“The Lost Daughter”
Thursday walked through the doors on a Tuesday
She sat in the Waiting Room,
the place smelled too sterile,
Antiseptic wash,
rank clean with soaps of fine lyes
no rugs to sweep bulldust under
such shiny spotless floors,
All open doors
Effective, efficient,
cold and distant
No blow flies
Time ticking raw.
Saturday was far away
Learning about "policy"
and how to "fairly" play,
walking down bustling University Halls
shining bright sun,
traversing all manners of shade
The Lost Daughter
looked in the bathroom mirror
Hazel Green eyes double take
she did gaze
Occasionally she heard Thursday calling her name
She turned on the faucets,
washed her hands,
singing a song about
"A Brand New Day"
turned her back to better things, and
swiftly walked out the swinging door
into the fray.
The Lost Daughter
left on a Saturday
She watched 3
dreams slip away
How to communicate
all that she wanted to say
Love was all she possessed
THE biggest gift,
to leave on their pillows
She blew them her kiss
an imprint on small brains
Like "Wind in the Willows"
“Take my hand”, He said,
“no need to worry, although it's too soon,
we will work out a way”.
“You’re up next,” the matron relayed, “let’s get you ready”.
The Lost Daughter sucked in the Aether and breathed. She replied,
“Bring it on, I’m game”.
(Lovejoy-Burton/April 2018)
For K, M, & G x
"A mother's love for her child is like nothing else in the world. It knows no law, no pity, it dares all things and crushes down remorselessly all that stands in its path." Agatha Christie
"Mother is the name for God in the lips and hearts of little children."
William Makepeace Thackeray
"Sonnet III", William Shakespeare
There comes a time
in the life of us all
when we're no longer hindered
and appreciate the small
Like birds of childhood to recall
When papa would sit
near the barns swinging door
To teach us their colors
and what Protection is for
They'd chirp and sing and suddenly soar
Oh...If I could return to yesteryear
Kindling the love that he taught
Just close my eyes and suddenly
I would want for naught
Knowing love can never be bought
5/4/13
Villanelle: The Dilemma of the Non-Violent – 45
Sound the gongs Blow the trumpets Let pigeons soar
The most well-kept secret’s about to be sawn
At last Great Leaders can reveal the true Law
Who makes worlds go round and round like swinging door
Who turns on firmament lights like on home lawn
Sound the gongs Blow the trumpets Let pigeons soar
Who drew Andromeda into Milky Way’s maw
Who raised Wall of Galaxies as tennis lawn
At last Great Leaders can reveal the true Law
Who made glacial periods run like mad wild boar
Who swung meteorites like golf balls every dawn
Sound the gongs Blow the trumpets Let pigeons soar
Truth ricochets like Le Bourget planes roar
The secret’s hidden from us poor folks ill-born
At last Great Leaders can reveal the true Law
Thanks to COP21 we now know much more
NATURE is the plaything of those who use brawn
Sound the gongs Blow the trumpets Let pigeons soar
At last Great Leaders can reveal the true LAW
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2015
The mind is like a swinging door,
Opening and closing all the time.
It remembers everything good and bad.
Intrusions take over the mind if aloud.
But even though I know this well,
A fear erupts now and then from deep within-
Growing old, not dying, but living way too long,
Ending up in a nursing home lonely and forgotten,
Broken, walking-not, my freedom cut short,
Dependent on not myself, but hands of many strangers,
Cries are ignored, silencing my tears forcing them within
My numerous surgeries have deepened these fears.
I'm used to a spine fused too many times,
And legs weakened far too long.
What will happen to me
When I no longer can care for myself?
"Don't worry about tomorrow, enjoy today"
Hard to do when I allow my fears to override my thoughts.
05/01/2013
As the door to my prison cell slammed shut.
It was then I realized just how deeply my life had sunk into this rut.
And why, what was the reason that put me here?
Second degree manslaughter and they said it quite clear.
It seems I plowed into a van full of kids coming from a high school game.
One mother cryingly said, don’t you have any pity do you feel any shame?
For she lost two sons that night, that night of the game.
I was there executioner, I was to blame.
I was just out for a good time making all of the bars.
I didn’t know I was that drunk but I still pack those scars
The jury found me guilty that very first day.
And the old judge handed me my sentence he said son you must pay.
Well locked in those handcuffs they carried me back to my cell.
I heard one mother holler, I hope you rot, you rot in hell.
Thirty years was the sentence but not near enough.
For it was three young men’s lives that I did snuff.
The death penalty would have been more fitting for this deed that I’ve done.
Letting a drunk person drive is like giving a crazy person a gun.
And I think the people that sell the stuff need to be accountable as well.
Let them get a little taste of sitting in a cell.
Folks this is just a made up story but it could have been true.
For there were many nights I was out there driving drunk uncaring of what I
could do.
I’m the lucky one, for God took my desire to drink and I don’t anymore.
Alcohol is an addicting drug with a swinging door.
It weakens all your defenses and it makes you a bum.
And like the man in this story his life will never be worth nothing he turned it to
scum.
So friend if you’re an alcoholic, admit it to yourself then seek help, and right away.
But please do it before something like this happens, that’s all I have to say.
I’m painfully aware as I regress down memory lane
That scene’s of my childhood slowly begin to wane
As I strive to recall them from the labyrinth of my brain
It was a time of innocence, of carefree happy days
Of childish pranks and mischief and summer holidays
Our doors were never locked, we children all ran free
And oh what fun we had riding the Calliope
We played stick ball, cops and robbers and other childish games
We roasted chestnuts by the fire, tossing pine cones in the flames
We showed respect to teachers…mine happened to be nuns
We had never heard of pedophiles, no one came to school with guns
Schools were a place of learning and we had nothing to fear
(Certainly not a shooting gallery conducted by our peers!)
We always loved our country and saluted the flag with pride
And when President Roosevelt died, I remember how we cried
Whenever we misbehaved it was made very clear
Parents were in charge as they swat us on the rear
Respect was a given…. trust was to be earned
You took the measure of a man by the values that he learned
Another time…another place …civility is no more
And marriage, I’m sad to say, is just a swinging door
Childish pranks have changed a bit…selling drugs is done with pride
Gangs roam the streets, shooting rivals who try to hide
Parents are no longer in charge…children can’t help but fail
Spanking is called abuse now, and they would land in jail!
Mother’s who would have died for them, now covet gin or crack
And babies are left alone to wonder if they’re ever coming back
Every generation thinks that theirs was the best
I’m so happy to have lived then…I’ve truly been blest
Another time…another place…I’m afraid it is no more
Yet I’m eager to hang around to see what the future has in store
i put a door on my aquarium
so the fish could come and go as they please
although the idea might be scaring them
it's not like i made it screened
if they just barely open it
that will help to stem the flow
i know the goldfish are all hoping that
the guppies don't treat it like a swinging door
i'm sure they'll get used to it in time
as we all do things in life
and when they do they'll come to realize
above all else my genius mind
Legend has it you’re a myth
but I remember, we once kissed,
not so very long ago,
beneath shooting stars and falling snow.
You were more mystical than I back then,
my secret shadow and dearest friend,
searching the heavens and in between
life and death for things unseen.
I remember how you came and left
like a spirit on a travel quest,
for something only angels bare
wanting more than I could share.
In this or any other place
I fell for you and your covered face,
and nothing more than the love you swore,
for me was like a swinging door.
The way you teased and pleased me then
as if in a dream and tail head-spin,
more than any one’s reality could take,
to survive, I surmised you were all but fake.
Beguiling with your childish charms
like a black hole pulled me in beyond,
the piercing stare of your sweet, snake eyes
blinding me with your deep disguise.
Dancing, prancing, romancing, like a queen
of hearts and minds, you were killing me,
day by day and night by night,
loving you was a yearning, burning, dismal delight.
Full of anger, worship, and whispered dreams
that someday you might marry me,
still deceived and full of grace,
I prayed someday we would embrace.
Until you vanished like a splendid swan
as I watched your wake dissipate ‘till you were gone...
into a legendary land I’m told comes and goes,
like shooting stars and falling snow.
In our Family, we have seven kids,
Well, that's how many I thought we did.
But whenever I do a count.
I never get to that amount.
More often than not there's a few more,
Sometimes I think we have a swinging door.
I love it when they all appear,
Filling the house with laughter and cheer.
But whenever the friends all go home,
And I think we're all alone,
Somebody says that name,
Then I know he's here again.
Everytime something is not right,
And the kids wind up in a fight,
Wasn't Me always gets the blame,
I know we didn't give any of our kids that name!.
I hear his name frequently everyday,
I didn't do it, "It Wasn't Me!", they'd say.
Now I've come to the conclusion, he's just a naughty boy,
But never having set eyes on him is beginning to annoy.
I can't recall when he first came,
But I do know he is always to blame.
As soon something goes amiss,
"It Wasn't Me!," the kids all hiss.
Well, I wish this kid would just go home,
And leave our Family all alone.
Things were great before he came,
I had the kids almost tame!
It was what it was …
The fantastic idea,
The thoughts of carefree and joy.
A few small steps is all it would take,
And we’d be living our lives in Savoy.
It did what it did …
This incredible dare,
To the notions of travel and explore.
Inspiring the house to become European,
With a provincial French swinging door.
It took what it took …
Every day of our life,
Devouring every dream that we had.
Leaving us both with nothing at all,
Turning our pride, hope and dreams into bad.
It has what it has …
Our ghostly friend,
Flying with everything that was us through the day.
It’s a bloated ghostly figure, a memory figure,
It ate our dreams like we were its buffet.
It is what it is …
My life void of ideas,
Safe from free thoughts, or joy or from care.
I’m existing once more, alone in my head,
With no flicker or shimmer or flare.
Across from the ancient building,
Overview of the roadside park,
Modern day mega-mall,
Chocolate delight.
All one can eat.
Competition stands mighty & real against the retail shop of day old jelly beans,
Mom & pop's candy store just drifting away 'in the used to be.'
Cobwebs covered the peppermint stick's glass displace,
Hiding the children's dirty hand-prints.
Man & woman happily in their golden years of marriage.
Opened their heart's desire in the teens with just a vision of lollipop dreams.
Remembering the flooded of little feet invading the inner halls.
Forcefully waving money into their face.
"I want this & that & what's ever left!"
Now just a wondering hope thought swept into the wind yesteryears.
Hearts of two,
Embracing encourage of one,
Not to fall into sadness.
"Life truly has been good, after all!"
They look one final glimpse overseas of the outside path,
Little girl's cheek pressed gently upon the window store.
They smile,
Their best customer yet.
She quickly dash within,
"See what grand mom gave me?"
"20 dollars of my favorite, please!"
They mull in rescued hope.
"Sorry, we cannot do that. All your gift on gum drops?"
Small look of no better,
"You took my button-coins, you can take my 20."
Faith revives the one heart.
Than mad rush,
Swinging door.
Little boy older,
"Are you crazy, sis!"
"Two for one sell over there!"
Stood firm in littleness,
"I don't care! they been good to me & too YOOOOOUUUUU!"
"And I kept our secret, I never told!"
He handed over his 20,
Saying in pondering frown,
"This is all the times that I stolen. Little sis was hungry for sweets. Mom alone,
dad left, she cries, because we cannot have the best."
Two grands beaming joy in silent weep,
"We know. Please, take it back."
Warful stare from smallness sis.
"No. It's okay. besides she will share."
"Remember what mom said to me, now it your turn, so there!"
Smiling redeemed for the future to become.
When people try to phone
I click them all away
today
Prefer to be alone
You see I’ve not a choice
I can not take the call
At all
Because I have no voice
This morning I awoke
from dreams so filled with sound
around
But nothing when I spoke
So I just stared ahead
Amid the lonely hush
No rush
Where nothing more is said
Sat down among the crowd
And watched their hasty gait
dictate
the only sound aloud
Waiting for their return
Watching the swinging door
Once more
When will I ever learn
***
Copyright © Chris Green and Darren White
June 6, 2017
When you look at me,
What do you see
Someone to spend a little time
Just to become another rhyme
What do you see
Me
Or even what I could be
Maybe just a passing glance
Not worth the chance
A passing ship in the night
Arms to hold tight
Not right
I'm me
All that I be
Is more than you see
So much more
Than a swinging door
If thats all you want
Another vision to haunt
After the fall
When it's hard to stand so tall
So I will stay alone for now
I know how
No love need shown
I've grown
I've learned to see,
All I need is me
I answered with love,
you questioned
with anger and pain
I then held you close,
but your eyes
failed me again
I told you truly,
as our wishes
dropped to the floor
Then you asked again,
and my heart
—your swinging door
(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2016)
"Samsara!"
Yelled a young prophet
With one eye and a cane.
His eye was made of tightly bundled,
Tall, wet grass.
His cane the smooth, rounded
Pebbles of a Dakota stream.
His voice was the tinsel thunder of God's,
Like yours and mine
Though with this difference:
There was no more of himself.
The yellowing light of Time,
It's pulsing, churchless transubstantiation
had spun a bright and absorbing bloom within.
He was of Earth and Spirit now.
He had achieved the Great Nothing
that we all beg and sob
And clench at our mother's dress over.
He finished: "Samsara!,"
He shouted from a bodily silence
In a forest on a city block,
"Release their hearts!
For even that is not their own!
As they hear the bird's notes soar,
May they realize love's swinging door!"
He left them then, ignored,
For the trees beyond the sprawl.
The Light beyond the Wall.