Long Doorknob Poems
Long Doorknob Poems. Below are the most popular long Doorknob by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Doorknob poems by poem length and keyword.
Teardrops had fallen
and wrung my heart dry
too weak to cry
sweat had trickled down
to feet and palms
hiding in my bulging
eyes.
I had searched
for three days
trembling at a doorknob
locking the masked one
to open the bandaged one
doorknob to doorknob
the night of a mind
searching the labyrinth
of a deadened heart
hoping for life.
I had waited on the waves
to return my cry
combing the sand
sniffing your scent
among the putrefied
begging the fish to vomit up
a lock, a foot, an eye
waiting on the waves
to return my cry
my heart jumped
stretching my lips smiled:
“I know you. My eyes see you”
I ran ahead of my arms
to embrace my life!
Four steps on the sand
where there were only mine
Because you live I live.
I wasn’t ready to see you die.
First Place Winner: Brian Strand-All yours May 5/7/21
My trembling started as a small shudder, but quickly grew.
What’s happening?
A look of confusion and helplessness on my face,
I had no idea of what was about to pass.
The mix of worry filled me with fearfulness,
while my stomach only grew too nauseated
by the thought of his touch I hated.
He covered my mouth and said, “Don’t make a sound.”
My terrifying silent screams echoing in my mind,
as my body moved with the impact of his hips, I find
it engulfed in tearing at my soul being ripped apart.
“Please,” I begged hoarsely, my eyes beseeching him to stop,
but his gazed lust ignored my pleas.
No matter how much I pleaded with my tormented eyes.
It's dark; once again,
fear of emotion penetrated through all my muscles
all the way to my bones,
as I hear his footstep outside my room while my mother sleeps.
The doorknob slowly turned, opening the door.
Stepping in, he slowly approaches pushing back the covers
and crawls next to me in bed.
Ten years have passed since I left home.
The scars reappeared in my mind,
when I saw the evil start walking toward me.
Why? I asked myself,
as I clench my fist and anger raged through me.
His image brought back the nightmares of fear and distress.
Tortured scream that use to make me jerk from out of bed,
making my whole body shake.
Wishing to slap him for the torture I went through,
instead a cold glaring look,
and turned and walked away wishing him dead.
7/31/2017
laughter is a rare thing for me these days
then you come along with colorful contrasts
at first, i was very much reluctant
then i became intrigued by your presentation of your introduction
nothing was what i expected
i am glad i took a road less travelled
here i am somewhere on vacation a little later in the future
i am making her applewood bacon and fluffy scrambled eggs
then i have the urge to surprise her with some cinnamon toast
the vanilla coffee is ready and so is the orange juice, freshly squeezed
she comes around the corner with a smile and a bright 'good mornin'
her strong southern accent defeating my serious demeanor
we flirt a little bit
her pine cone brown eyes are glistening in the natural light in the room
though she is 15.5 years older than me, we are like kids at a makeshift breakfast buffet
as we say our goodbyes, we exhale deeply and wonder
a new friendship has formed, and for that we feel ThankFull and Blessed
as i walk her to her navy blue SUV, we give each other a warm hug
we promise to stay in touch, but respect is the nucleus of our bond
as i watch her drive off, i thank God for the experience of it all
sometimes it is not about the physical aspect but the Occurrence of a Blessing
i hope that she finds happiness as she returns to her current chapter
just as i was turning the doorknob to reenter the condo, my phone chimes....
Milly Molly
1. Milly Molly - brown-eyed, kinky-haired she was, seeing the world through rose-colored glasses. She had so many dreams, but love was not one of them until she met him.
Wishing to captivate the court with her words, she ended up losing herself in his eyes. From his gait to his smile, Milly was willing to walk a million miles.
"Am I the problem?" she would ask, pain tattooed on her heart. Nothing was usually as it seemed.
She gave her all, but it was never enough; she always had her head in the clouds.
2. Do you know that when you are in love, you are partly blind? I guess that is how it is designed.
Pain - all she got was pain from the person who ought to be her comfort place, the type which could only be eased with death.
Her tears streamed like a furious waterfall, leaving behind everlasting scars. Everyone hoped she took this as a sign.
Thinking of being a lecturer but becoming his listener, wanting to rule the office yet becoming his doorknob.
She dreamt of new things upon his arrival, but falling out of love was not one of them. Oh, Milly Molly.
3. Years later, she returned to the town where it all began, wrapped in dreams which colored her world.
Haunted no more by the past she hoped to undo, nor the tears she had sown.
Wearing a bright smile on her face with all her scars faded, Milly was a diamond made of rock. Kind of wish she had known.
Secrets remain hidden,
A story stays untold.
Walls grow taller,
And the padlock keeps it closed.
Keys are given
To all who reside within
And to the few who earn my trust.
Because what lies inside
Was meant to be hid.
The outside,
A perfect dreamhouse,
White-picket fence and all.
How ironic,
The same colour of drywall
In which I watched a crater form.
Few visitors ever see
What goes on
Behind closed doors.
Once I give them a spare key,
Nothing is hidden anymore.
The doorknob beckons for your hand
Before it’s too late.
Now you see inside the house,
And I know
What happens next.
Now you know my secrets,
My deepest, darkest fears,
And that shatters your lens,
Because I am now real.
But the windows are now smashed,
The story’s been told,
Walls are still crumbling,
And a new padlock now holds.
I never saw your writing
against the silent wall
I never heard those footsteps
walking to the door
Like a sunset shadow
you faded in my dusk
Left upon my doorknob
just a venetian mask
A mask with many faces
and unforgotten past
A thousand million secrets
and questions never asked
No please,don't go reminding me
of a time before
Of those wistful moments
that now I don't recall
The stonehenged shrine of my heart
is over six feet tall
Cracks do let the light in
but the wall resists to fall
No please,don't go reminding me
of a time before
Of those wistful moments
that now I don't recall
Was there ever a vision
with the beauty of your eyes
Was there ever a fire
with the passion of our nights
Was there ever a sweet warmth
where velvets bled a rose
Was there ever a seashore
where my fingers brushed your toes
Was there ever a tree trunk
where stars have carved our dream
Was there ever a stream walk
where our starved lips weren't sealed
No please,don't go reminding me
of a time before
Of those wistful moments
that now I don't recall
The stonehenged shrine of my heart
is over six feet tall
I never saw your writing
against the silent wall
The Wall - Contest Sponsored by Anthony Slausen.
I walked inside my burning home,
Gave him a second chance.
Where even the welcoming doormat now,
frowned upon my glance.
Broken glass, a shattered sea,
Hopes and light that blinded me.
It was a fire wild, I mistook for fairy light’s gleam,
Oh, how ignorant I was in my day dream.
The doorknob jammed; banging was heard; desperate demanding now turned into a plea!
History to repeat itself, time's cruel decree.
Steps I took, a journey in vain,
Plotting my doom, trading in myself for endless pain.
The place we laughed I cherished,
Thereafter life turned nightmarished.
Where I thought memories sat,
In that same blazing smoke, all my hopes fell flat.
Rebuild darling! I tried; to regain what once was dear,
But destiny's hand, a circle of life I fear.
A known’s shove back into the fiery pyre,
I rose again, this time no quenched desire.
Realisation dawned upon me,
No soul can be sought twice in a body free.
A burning house, not home, alas I see,
Illusions shattered, not me but at least my darling daughter was set free.
•My breath wont let me say that you’re gone.
• This continuous pressure your mere memory forces on me pins me to this Earth
•won't you please let me go?
•At night I hear you unintelligibly shout to me through my pillow, your seething laugh haunts what precious moments I actually do sleep.
•Your visits should comfort me but they don’t, I dread seeing your baleful face.
•Especially since they come at 3AM.
•With a sweaty brow, and quivering heart.
•Thump. Thump. Thump.
•Was it my own heart? Incessantly beating, throbbing, quaking at the thought of you?
•No.. I just know its you.
•Thump. Thump. Thump.
•With every step the memory of your hateful fingertips burns the skin around my neck. I reflexively reach up to touch my throat and swear.. I can almost feel you there.
•Thump. Thump. Thump.
•I reach for the doorknob of my bedroom, the bedroom we used share, where you would leave me crying, bloodied and bruised…and with a shaking hand tighten my grip.
•THUMP!
•I pull the door open aggressively, being fully prepared to meet with your ghost face to face, but was only met with a cool breeze.
•Its like this every night.
Under her blanket of protection,
she lies still to escape detection.
As shadows gather in the moonlight,
anxiety grows during the night.
Her heart's pounding in a rush of fear,
apprehensive that he may be near.
And she waits for the doorknob to turn,
igniting hate's indelible burn.
The door creeks open, her eyes snap shut,
and panic ties a knot in her gut.
As her panties get slowly pulled down,
tears flow, and he counters with a frown.
She is in shock, and the games begin
as fingers stroke her shivering skin.
And alone at night, he breaks her heart,
innocence dies, and trust falls apart.
A father molests his precious pearl,
numb to the pain of his little girl.
And her mother, blind to his deceit,
makes her daughter's suffering complete.
Sweaty Palms – Chronic Woe Renders...
Po' Whet Tick Dampened Curse = A
Worse Fate Than Death!
...of Google I now know sweaty
palms sports dignified name
known as palmar hyperhidrosis.
Here all along (meaning major
of my roam'n LIX chronological
hash tagged linkedin orbitz), this
plague constitutes bona fide
medical condition. Cold drippy
comfort! Also (minimally) re:
assuring to realize, this generic
guy need not count himself alone
in sopping wet wilderness re:
this plague. Such problematic
health condition impacts, comprises,
and affects one to two percent of
the world’s population. One
Doctor Riesfeld purportedly makes
hand over fist handsome income.
Will power alone seems a dauntlessly
futile endeavor to rid oneself of
disruptive condition. Try as I might
to put lockdown on propensity
for sweat glands (synonymous
with the term eccrine) packed
within sub surfaces of hands, fore
head and feet. As linkedin to
sympathetic nervous system,
the body electric under stress
activates glands. Profuse moisture
dripping like a faulty faucet
severely affected everyday
activities of existence since a
young adult. Frustration to
complete a simple task such
as opening a doorknob, using
the laptop, and even writing
concomitantly associated with
droplets of water soiling green
sleeves to appear near saturated.
Without fail interpersonal ambitions
hi-jacked when wet as dishrag hands
found me disinclined to experience
social rejection. Though sprung
from overactive predisposition to
anxiety, these secretory organs
get exacerbated with dubiously
honorable privilege of being gifted
with panic attacks, offers little
comfort to sill lake consolation.