The outward man is the swinging door; the inner man is the still hinge.
quote by Meister Eckhart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Four little giraffes
Four little giraffes
Stare at a broken hinge
A broken hinge in the door
They sat and pondered
How were they going to fix that hinge?
That broken hinge which was in the door
They were no bob the builder
But surely they could fix it just as well
They hammered and they wrenched
All day and all night long
And with hooves wiping sweat off from brows
And purple tongues slurping up some water by the gallon
Soon that broken hinge was no longer a broken hinge
Yes indeed
They surely weren’t bob the builder
But they sure were one thing
Great hooves for feet, purple tongued hard workers
poem by Storm Pedersen
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Confidence is the hinge on the door to success.
quote by Mary O'Hare Dumas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A spiral scratched into an ancient Irish gravestone
A centre and an expansion
a life centred expanding
the force of the centre whirls
a life without limit but it says
a centred life what gods the centre
does not tell but a centre
and from there a spiral
which has a beginning but no end
the life shaping the death the death
shaping the life it seems this life
that life could not be told
need not be told
every life drawn here
drawn because it could not be spoken
even in a lilting Irish voice
speaking a spiral sentence for
Irish sentences are like spirals
the centre expands without limit
the life was lived in the circle of the year
that comes round again sowing harvest
yet never back to the same place
as the mind the vision the experience expands whirls out
like a wild dance celebrating birth marriage death
yet passes the familiar place each season
and love love for the world
expands into a holy love
spiralling without limit yet never forgetting the centre
like a child on a gate swinging
knowing it’s safe because of the hinge
it knows but does not know
for others made the hinge
and now we read the spiral on a gravestone
tracing back from infinity to the source
everything that has an outward
everything that has an inward
and so there is no need for words
the spiral like a poem about life
read it forwards read it backwards
read it with thanks see it as grace
the thick green grass curls over it
the lichen yellow orange green
placed like a lizard
blesses this the most eloquent
gravestone in all the world
in a green field the clouds white
the sky blue this is the centre
of the spiral here now and
there is no ending to the spiral
the gravestone says
but a starting yes
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Dogs / Gods
a torment
is a mentor
a show
can be hows
a dog
can be a god
with a little
manipulation
of words
me
can
be
'em
thaw can
be
what
got to be
tog
a door
a hinge
without the sea
a clock
is just a lock
with two
i
&
i
a dot is but an
an idiot.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Noon—is the Hinge of Day
931
Noon—is the Hinge of Day—
Evening—the Tissue Door—
Morning—the East compelling the sill
Till all the World is ajar—
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Prison bars
What can a prisoner say?
To bars he cannot escape.
I love you; but farewell,
I love you; but permit me, some leave!
Within his heart, yet, remains a serpent.
An unwelcome visitor sounds a hiss…
But unlike a stray-dog, he'll not bark nor
Snake through the undergrowth an adder?
So then Lord what is a key without a lock?
Or a jail without four walls…
Who turns the key to a door, without-walls?
To a door that's got no hinge.
No ceiling or heavenly vault
No floor or a cellar-basement.
poem by Mark Heathcote
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Outward Bound
OUT upon the unknown deep,
Where the unheard oceans sound,
Where the unseen islands sleep,--
Outward bound.
Following towards the silent west
O'er the horizon's curved rim,--
Or to islands of the blest,
--He with me and I with him--
Outward bound.
Nothing but a speck we seem
In the waste of waters round,
Floating, floating like a dream,--
Outward bound.
But within that tiny speck
Two brave hearts with one accord
Past all tumult, grief, and wreck,
Look up calm,--and praise the Lord,--
Outward bound.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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Dont Say No
(a. bell / v. clarke)
Collecting conversation from the silence of the room.
Misguided information, telling lies will never do.
No better known occasion for improving the score.
Paid my contribution, wont play this game no more.
Im done with hesitation, got no stationary blues.
Gonna use my imagination like the way I used to do.
Headlong into passion, a sensational move.
Made the right connection, Im falling for the groove.
Im swinging high and Im swinging low,
And Im getting down and Im to and fro.
And thats the way the party goes.
Im making no mistaking, its a true live picture show.
So forget the final curtain and forget the bit of blow.
Got a lot of combination, its a fusion of love.
Mention intervention been bitten by the blow.
Im swinging high and Im swinging low,
And Im getting down and Im to and fro.
And thats the way the party goes.
Im done with hesitation, got no stationary blues.
Gonna use my imagination like the way I used to do.
Headlong into passion, a sensational move.
Made the right connection, Im falling for the groove.
Im swinging high and Im swinging low,
And Im getting down and Im to and fro.
Aint that the way the party goes?
Im swinging high and Im swinging low,
And Im getting down and Im to and fro.
And thats the way the party goes.
And thats the way the party goes.
And thats the way the party goes.
song performed by by Erasure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Faith No More
Faith it is fickle and like a swinging door,
What have we got, when faith is no more,
An inpenetrable black, a cloud of deceit,
Lacking of God where is the retreat,
A flickering light switch, and a band on the door,
Is there a heaven when faith is no more?
poem by Sean Toland
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The Deserted House
Life and Thought have gone away
Side by side,
Leaving door and windows wide.
Careless tenants they!
All within is dark as night:
In the windows is no light;
And no murmur at the door,
So frequent on its hinge before.
Close the door; the shutters close;
Or through the windows we shall see
The nakedness and vacancy
Of the dark deserted house.
Come away: no more of mirth
Is here or merry-making sound.
The house was builded of the earth,
And shall fall again to ground.
Come away: for Life and Thought
Here no longer dwell;
But in a city glorious -
A great and distant city -have bought
A mansion incorruptible.
Would they could have stayed with us!
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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My motto was always to keep swinging. Whether I was in a slump or feeling badly or having trouble off the field, the only thing to do was keep swinging.
quote by Hank Aaron
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Door Between Two Worlds
this the door between our two worlds
it divides the inside and the outside
the light and the darkness
the choice is yours
there is no lock
there is only the hinge that holds the door to its place
when you open it
there is no sound
and when you close it
there is only this silence of the air sealed inside our minds
my heart does not sing inside
it is muted by the darkness that moment your gentle hands
close the door
it is patient, the mind
the incompatibilities of the things outside us
are too inviting
they tempt us to step outside and promise us
the magical wonders of freedom
we feel so light like our joys like cottons and clouds
they are no different from our wishes
i am in the middle of this door between us
& you look at me like i am the last man of this earth
your heart opens with eyes too careful not to know
what i do next is the suspense of this uncertainty
your eyes close, my heart bleeds
my hands wilt, your mind wanders like a lost wind
the door closes finally
walling us in
it locks upon itself and
the world sleeps soundly curling its feet on the beds of the
heavens
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Do not treat your loved one like a swinging door: you are fond of it but you push it back and forth.
Swinging first and swinging to kill is all that matters now.
quote by Ernie Pyle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We learn this by the precepts that Jesus left. He observed that the people were looking outward, and assured them that the kingdom of God cometh not with outward observation; and for this reason, that it was only to be known in man.
quote by Elias Hicks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Question Mark
There is a hinge
of bone
where your chin joins
your cheek.
I like to stroke it
in the flicker
of a local movie;
I like to take
your laborer;s hand
when you are
cautiously-
(O proof of love!)-
driving my car.
You bring me gifts
of food;
I write you
poems of blood.
Your scars are vertical;
mine are horizontal.
You lost your spleen;
I loosed a daughter
on the world.
Your hinge of bone
tells jokes;
while mine chants
poems.
An unlikely pair,
though which pair
is ever likely?
When I cannot
look at your face,
I look
at your cock-
a question mark
asking the sky
how can
heaven
be fucked?
poem by Erica Jong
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Fixation Of Disbelief
If to them,
Others determined did not provide light.
Or encourage with an insistence persisted,
For them to open a door...
After explaining what the door was there for,
Not one of them would know its purpose.
They would have stood for hours glued,
With a fixation of disbelief.
With a slow approach to examine,
Closely...
To inspect,
Attached hinges.
Enabling the swinging back and forth,
Of the closed door.
And in complete and dumbfounded amazement,
There they they would stand,
With jaws dropped...
Astonished by what was revealed on the other side.
If to them,
Others did not provide this light...
The would still be on the inside,
Debating the significance...
Of exploring life!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Swinging Doors
Life can be like swinging doors
with people coming and going.
Some come in to stay awhile,
while others come in
for only moments at a time.
The swinging doors are never locked
and swing both ways.
There are those who enter
and never want to leave
and others who never want to stay.
Life is so unpredictable
and the swinging doors
are always busy
with people coming and going
from one day to the next.
1 September 2011
poem by David Harris
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The gambit of heaven above
Bring me the stolen song of silence
Passed between two lovers eye
Bring me the white dove's effervescence
That I may never die
Bring me the wings of an angel's heart
As might I, to an ancient course take part
Bring me the heart of unlicensed love
Though it be the hinge that time never unlocked
Though told, the door would be wide and unblocked.
poem by Mark Heathcote
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