poetic forms / Poetry / Uncategorized

Through the Doors

Some doors are golden oak

shine like melted honey

but also locked and foreboding

There are metal ones, also

cool to the touch

futuristic and impenetrable

Some doors are inset

with tiny window panes

riding on hinges

like 1930’s gangsters

A few doors

are flung open

swishing in fresh air

and visitors both welcome

and not

White doors end up

dinged with messy hand prints

from people

pushing and clawing

their way in and out

Ah, but the door open to the mists

framed with a graceful arc

a jeweled curtain

veiling the mystery

beckons us

nothing concrete there

between you

and the other side



38 thoughts on “Through the Doors

  1. This is a beautiful poem, enhanced (if that’s possible) by being read aloud. (My local publican still didn’t open early…something about licensing hours but I know he was tempted such is it’s charm) And never has the other side seemed so tempting to reach. Thanks LT, class as ever 🙂

  2. Love this one! Lovely images and a unique way to look at doors and the analogy with life and opportunities. I shall look for a door open to the mists…perhaps a screen door! Have an inspirational day!

      • Of course, I remember a book of an architect as myself. When kid there was a door always open. Once the door was closed and he knew there was a dead man and the ceremony was there. Suddenly he felt the strength of the concept of a closed door. The meanings it take as a threshold. : )

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