Long Entryway Poems
Long Entryway Poems. Below are the most popular long Entryway by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Entryway poems by poem length and keyword.
The first hint
I stood at the gate
and was shocked to find
the clasp unfastened
It swung freely on its hinges
as if it had not a care
to whom might enter or leave
I looked out towards the horizon
across the wintered over field,
a stark white landscape
I saw nothing but barren trees with
twisted branches creaking,
silhouettes reaching on an opaque sky
I felt scared and nervous…
what would happen now that the entryway
to my heart had been left open
Then I felt a hand on my shoulder,
and looking to my right, there you were,
smiling a sunrise on my face
So I pulled the gate closed,
secured it tightly as I found the first
hint of spring in your kiss
Good morning Soupers
I step from my car and I see ahead
the shiny glint of smooth, polished chrome,
the place is shaped like an oversized rail car,
but never on the tracks has it roamed.
I walk on into the small entryway,
where fliers of all sorts are tacked up,
guitar lessons, baby-sitting, and a sheet
for a man selling newborn boxer pups.
Inside are booths spaced along the wall,
and a long counter with spinning stools,
I take a seat at the later of them,
the formica counter strangely cool.
I pick up a large, six-page menu,
laminated and bound in plastic rings,
breakfast alone takes up two pages,
they do a little bit of everything.
But I am looking for something specific,
to make sure this place is up to the regs,
because we all know you’re not a real diner,
unless your menu boasts of steak and eggs.
Wait, there it is, and they use t-bone too!
I order some from the waitress Charlene,
she calls me ‘hon’ every other word,
and says the cook does a great over-easy.
Reclining a bit, I take in the whole place,
starting with gray-haired veterans in the back,
boasting of ships, or wars that they fought,
with the proud images on their caps.
Nearby a boy, maybe just turned six,
builds a fort with packets of jam,
a tired-looking mother just rolls her eyes,
makes no move to stop her little man.
Some college kids, all freshly hungover,
have taken up residence to my left,
last night must’ve been one epic blow-out,
judging by the silence and lack of pep.
Just beyond them a young couple is
having breakfast with the wife’s grandpa,
he recounts the first time he ever came here,
on the arm of the wife’s late grandma.
But there’s the waitress, carrying my steak,
two eggs and home fries, brown and steaming,
hate to cut this short, but the stomach demands
that I end all this poetic scribbling…
Visit a place where you’ve not been before
And the first thing you face is the sturdy front door.
Of fiberglass, oak, tempered glass, even steel,
The entryway should have a certain appeal.
My country home door, though, was streaky with rust.
The paint was all puckered, the cracks filled with dust.
The glass in the windows no longer got clean;
My husband was tired of changing the screen.
So I finally gave in and we got a new door,
A portal to spiff up the entry décor.
It isn’t embellished, just simple and plain
But it’s neat, a condition I hope to maintain.
When visitors come, they may notice or not
For most likely, the old one was one they forgot
But I’ll welcome them all with the door opened wide
And embrace every one that I usher inside.
I watched in awe the laboring tenants of the birdhouse I'd made,
And for their family devotion, they (and I) have been amply repaid!
Mr. and Mrs. Wren became the proud parents of a couple of eggs,
And unto them were born two chicks with big mouths and wobbly legs!
The pair began building their cozy abode along about the first of May.
I watched from my patio as they stashed bits of grasses, feathers and hay!
They'd rest now and then 'tweeting' each other on the porch of their dwelling,
And not unlike we uncouth mortals, I sensed a bit of familial yelling!
Bye and bye, my ears heard two little birdies faintly a-cheeping,
And from the entryway I saw two little bobble heads shyly peeping!
Their wide-open mouths kept Mr. and Mrs Wren flying to and fro,
To fill cavernous craws with who knows what to help them to grow!
Then one bright morn I was privileged to see a wonder of God's Creation!
One little fellow emerged from the nest and paused with some hesitation.
Then, into the rising sun it flew from its perch - what a beautiful sight!
My soul was filled with elation - I had just witnessed the miracle of flight!
Entry for Soup's International Contest - December 2011
It is amazing what I see
On a walk in the forest near the end of spring.
I saw two big trees joined together in the
middle covered with bright green
Philodendrons that were sitting on an eave
Above a door.
Who ever lives out here in the middle of no
Where really wants their privacy
Away from society.
There's no sign keeping away any visitor.
It is amazing what I see
An entryway in all this scenery
Furthermore
Who ever lives out here in the middle of no
Where really wants their privacy.
It is a mystery
That probably has to do with wee folklore.
It is amazing what I see.
An entrance to gain information about who
Owns this property.
It has gotten my curiosity up all the way
Down to my core.
Who ever lives out here in the middle of no
Where really wants their privacy.
Knock. Knock. Hello. Your a Hobbit. Now
That I know your a reality
I won't bother you anymore.
It is amazing what I see
Who ever lives out here in the middle of no
Where really wants their privacy.
From fading greens of summer, we will pass
and seek the autumn season's entryway
to honor our maturity, en masse,
with festive ceremony and display.
A glorious salute to our last stage-
a party planned with colorful attire
to complement our patterns and engage
fine passersby and artists to admire.
Our dresses will be orange, red or gold,
and we must pick the one that suits us best
to glow and rustle on dark limbs as bold
farewell to close this phase of life expressed.
Our last hurrah- bright shawl to warm the ground-
before white winter's blanket wraps around.
September 16, 2016
~3rd Place~
Contest: Wisdom From Trees
Sponsor: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Judged: 05/28/2022
~8th Place~
Premiere Contest: Leaves Talking
Sponsor: John Lawless
Judged: 09/18/2016
I want to say it,
I wish you would be aware.
The manner in which you cause me to feel,
My heart nearly appears to develop.
I wish you realized I would not joke about this,
At the point when I show my love.
I want to see
You've established a long term connection.
I want to be together,
In any case, our age drives us separated.
I trust that you know when you leave soon,
You'll be in my heart.
I wish we had longer
Than simply these couple of weeks more,
I wish it was until the end of time,
That you'd thump on my entryway.
Some time or another you will be aware
What you mean to me.
My desire will work out as expected,
Furthermore, we'll be intended to be.
The old Kaufman footwear factory
with it's grand entryway
Marble floors
Granite counters
Important people use to walk it's halls
Pictures of the founders had lined the walls
Intimidating, dressed in three piece suits
holding somber expressions
masters of a previous time
I walk down the halls
to the workers domain
stepping across pieces of debris on the factory floor
Calloused hands had run these machines
building work boots and futures that have all but dissapeared
The jobs
Good paying jobs
Union Jobs
Gone
A cities pulse slowed
Hopes dashed
Silenced
The glass from the windows lay broken on the floor
Wind echoes through lonely hallways
The rhythm of man and machine have ceased
dreams shattered like the glass
Soon new workers will appear
pulling down the broken pieces
getting rid of the tired machines
dusting away the silken cobwebs
All to make way for the new Condos
Reclaiming a part of history
The past and future will be united
Once again these wall will echo with laughter
New dreams to be forged from the rubble
People once again walking down bright hallways
The wind will be kept at bay
until some ancient future day
The grand entryway
Marble floors
Granite countertops
Decked out once again in finery
If the building could speak
she would say
"Come rest your weary heads"
"Celebrate my past"
"Make me your home."
Dedicated to Kaufman Footwear a grand building as well as an important
piece of Kitchener Ontario's past. The factory has been converted to condos.
From water to soil, we continued.
All that I've at any spot known has been rottenness.
I can hear myself awakening close to the water spewed.
Each component of this second was essential to my awareness.
I needed to create this experience a piece of my life.
For quite a long time, I've envisioned myself as auld and dim.
My grandma's fondness, my youngster's delight, and strife.
I was drenched in your and my spirits joining time.
Among your and my bodies is a knot of all-out satisfaction.
We softened into one another in exotic yearning.
The sort of affection doesn't last in this section.
My head is overpowered with thoughts churning.
I realize every one of the firearms utilized before it was on me.
So I put my protective layer on and opened the fortitude entryway.
Fantasy dreams can infrequently solve as standard keys.
Some vaporous lines have been harmed away.
Then, at that point, I understand I'm speechless.
I feel as though I'm suffocating in my consideration.
I felt perplexed in the maze, reachless.
Because each untruth is made up of many assumptions.
There's most likely a channel plug.
Do you wish to be covered? Disintegration
I don't grasp whether this is a clean or a fatal drug
However, I trust tomorrow will be a day of action.
I can set to the side my feelings of dread.
It assumed responsibility for my apprehension and ambiguity.
A steel-clad article of clothing that encloses me as dead.
Carry me truly close to my thoughts and congruity.
Yet, it is the subtleties that we ignore.
This is the fundamental thing to me.
Furthermore, I need everything to explore.
Breathing stops for a short period under a tree.
Written: July 19, 2021
The elevator opened on the 46th floor, to a small foyer and one plain, grey door
The door opened and a young girl, 10ish, in a blue, polo, tennis dress, said, “Hi! I’m Karen, you must be Anais. Will is around here somewhere. Aren’t you pretty, though? You go to school with Lisa? No wonder Will likes you.”
She skippingly ushered me from a bright, windowed, off-white, staircase entryway, into a deep-red, mahogany paneled library. A persian cat was soon underfoot, purring and winding around my legs.”That’s Misha,” Karen said, “just shoo her away if you don’t like cats.”
I stooped down to pet Misha who eagerly offered herself to be petted and admired. As I stroked her charcoal fur, Karen said, “Let me get Will,” as she scampered off.
A gold framed, impressionistic painting, pin-lit in bright crystalline light, hung over a fireplace. In the painting, two girls, in summer hats bright with startling red bows and yellow flowers, were sharing a book. The colors were rich, deep and swirling - it looked very much like a Renoir (I know my French artists). He’d done a whole “two girls” series. I drew closer - it wasn’t a print.
Though dazed by the opulence, I hadn’t missed what Karen had said. Will liked me. I longed to interrogate her about how exactly she knew Will liked me, and what form, exactly, Will’s liking took.
I know Will and Lisa (who would be joining us in a minute) are just friends. Not that it matters, we’re heading back to New Haven later - but Karen’s statements were capable of activating a girl's guy-dar.
Karen, wearing socks but no shoes, came to a sliding halt, on the wooden floor, by grabbing the door frame to stop an otherwise complete slide into the library. “You guys are going to the Ritz for lunch?” she asked, looking back over her shoulder, in a way that indicated that she knew the answer quite well.
The Ritz Carlton is a block away and our mission was to grab the food and bring it back here to eat. “Mind if I join?” she said, before I could answer her first question, all wide-eyed, blinking impatience.
“I don’t mind at ALL.” I said, Karen whooped and was off again down the hall. “I’M COMING TOO!” she yelled. I chuckled, knowingly - I’ve been there - I’m a little sister too.