once that door is open
there may be no looking back
uncertainty is a devil with two heads
and there’s little reasoning to be had
it’s a swinging door that’s
sometimes spinning out of control
its hinges are known to be defective
and there’s never been a master key
it’s often that the door to uncertainty
opens over an unforgiving cliff on open sea
AP: Honorable Mention 2025, Honorable Mention 2025
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
Click-clack the sound of the ref’s shoes hit the floor
Tick-tock the clock starts
The coach closes the swinging door
The team parts
With the starters on the court
The crowd ceases to chatter
The team claps in support
For the team and the game that matter
Players slammed the ball down
And hit the ball up in the air
Not one girl had a frown
Never had there
been more effort for that win
wows and yays erupted from all
Everyone had a grin
For the game they would always recall
When they carry me out of here, they’ll first have to take me from my bedroom to my sitting room, squeezing through the narrow hallway connecting the two, in order to then re-open the in-ward swinging door through which they entered my apartment. They’ll then have access to the stairway descending to the ground floor exit and be able to angle me down and bear me to the outside world, never to return again. But in the brief time they’ll have stood in my sitting room, they will likely have judged it to be a place “of cleanliness and good order,” with everything in its place, reminiscent of a furniture store show room. I hope they’ll also have taken notice of the photo of my smiling children on the end table by my chair. Given the sterility of all the rest, it is the only tangible evidence that a life ever actually occupied that room other than to keep it tidy. Whoever packs up that photo when they clear out my things had better treat it with reverence and respect; I know they loved me.
I answered with love,
you questioned
with anger and pain
I held you close,
but your eyes
failed me again
I told you truly,
as my wishes
dropped to the floor
Your smile my captor,
my heart
—your swinging door
(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2016)
Cowardice and bravery
Not either-or
But different levels of
Valor and shame
A swinging door
Whose facings change when swung
A foil to confound
The Poets dream
With glory and disdain
Bravery and cowardice
Not zero-sum
—but often look the same
(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2016)
Shush! My dog ears caution me. Did you hear that? I stop sorting coupons, and listen, hard.
My husband is gone, and there are adult footsteps in my house.
Hypervigilant, I hear the fast increased pounding beats of my fearful heart, a ticking clock, and the blower on the air conditioner.
Sh! My imagination cautions me. SH! SH! SH!
I silence myself further, frantically wishing the blower was not so loud.
I am in the kitchen downstairs, and my innocent children are upstairs, alone, sleeping.
I flip off the light, and melt onto the floor behind my island, out of sight of the swinging door,
listening, frozen motionless with fear, waiting for the interlopers to decide our fate.
The door opens rapidly.
A stream of light lands on the block of knives on the counter.
I wish I had hidden them.
I am grabbed by both arms, and roughly brought to my feet.
“Here’s the wife,” a gruff voice says, a man’s voice.
“Sh!” the other one whispers. “Did you hear that?”
A car door slams.
My husband is home.
Shush! Did you Hear That? Written 9-15-2018
Contest Sponsor: Anthony Slausen
Cowardice and bravery
Not either/or
But different levels of…
Valor and shame
A swinging door
Whose facings change when swung
A foil to confound
The poets dream
With glory and disdain
Bravery and cowardice
Not zero-sum
—but often look the same
(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2016)
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
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
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)
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.
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
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
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
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