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Poetry is the opening and closing of a door, leaving those who look through to guess about what is seen during the moment.

quote by Carl Sandburg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The closing of a door can bring blessed privacy and comfort - the opening, terror. Conversely, the closing of a door can be a sad and final thing - the opening a wonderfully joyous moment.

quote by Andy Rooney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Opening Door

Dedicated to Trevor, who took the trouble
to share the original quotation which this poem,
was subsequently written as a reflection upon.

Someone once said that poetry is like
someone opening a door, and for a moment,

an observer can glimpse, what is on the other
side. Of that veiled door, before it closes again.

But I have lived most of my life,
radiating the inspiration of living,
on the other side of that door.

The wonder of another world
may be partially glimpsed;
through the poetic moment
of a momentarily open door.

Through the transcendence
of a soul's passage; through
an inter dimensional door.

Life is a hard time stressed, being stuck
on, this side of the door; for the duration
of your chosen, destined prophetic life.

When you oft, must live, a woken dream,
of inspirational serfdom, or indentured labour.

Poetic flights of fancy upon closure,
leave the residue, of a mind and body;
firmly trapped within the horror of being,
flypaper stuck; lifetime sentenced;
to the wrong side, of that soul sought door.

I am dream vision married to the magic muse,
but this estranged relationship leaves my heart,

panting, when the demands of a secular life
and soul; strain and obliterate the domain of

sought spiritual rejuvenation. While true poet must
dwell in a kind of limbolic hell, in the chill lost world

between two dissimilar worlds. Two differing
realities that differ as much as chalk and cheese.

Redemption gifted
to an uncaring capitalistic;
multitude of barren values
is a burden of great magnitude.

Feel the tear of a vision walker;
walking between dissimilar worlds.

'Poetry is the opening and closing of a door,
leaving those who look through to guess about
what is seen during a moment.'
CARL SANDBURG

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Buddhist Lesson # 2

enlightment,
the act of opening,
like a rosebud,

like a mother,
opening the door...
like a child

opening a present,
like a woman
opening to a man....

opening...
all the hidden chambers,
every door to every

secret kingdom of the soul.....
opening the box that holds
your secret thoughts, desires....

opening...
the door of the cage,
letting the winged breath fly....

opening....
your heart to itself,
and to all hearts beating....

opening....
the vault of conceptions,
the entrance to the tomb

of past lives and memories....
opening...
your hands to the world

as if it were your neighbor,
and you, it's home!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Total Eclipse!

Time unto time
A door's closing
A seasons change
The end of ones pristine
Time unto time
A door's opening
An' season's anew
Yet one shall be missed
Moment by moment
Account of count
Thine pages of living proof
Moment by moment
count thy count
For your reminisce remains
Eclipse after eclipse
Toll upon toll
Always there for the need
Eclipse after eclipse
Toll upon toll
Always the planting of seed
Brother unto brother
Closer than blood
And a promise never unbroken
Brother unto brother
You are my blood
an' forever a part of me

poem by Geoff Warden
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Opening The Door Of Existence

Opening the door of existence
I entered non-tense balanced
Satisfied and content
Coming to the mother
Feminine mystique I am feminine
And I live and live in the moment.

Opening the door of existence
I read history I read fables
That are one and the same
Coming to the mother
I forget to put questions
Relating to the very existence.

Opening the door of existence
I became more elemental more natural
Without having corners
Coming to the mother
I enjoyed like birds rivers
And trees and resent and future.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Slips Away

time slips away,
into an endless moment,
never to pass,
an endless stop.

finding a way out,
searching for life,
returning back,
to a normal pace.

then standing alone,
in this dark cloud,
on a platform,
and a door sitting there.

behold the key in your hand,
as you walk to it,
you hear friends calling,
as you turn back to see.

opening the door,
leaving friends behind,
it's all up to you,
so what so you chose?

poem by Katherine Bryce
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D. W. Suite

Written by lindsey buckingham.
A tribute to the late dennis wilson of the beach boys.
A. the wish
If we go, go insane
We can all go together
In this wild, wanton world
We can all break down forever . . .
I want to go, go forever
I want to go, go forever
It's just a memory
It's just a memory
It's just a memory . . .
Gone forever . . .
Gone forever . . .
B. the prayer
The closing of a chapter
The opening of a door
Brings forth life
Where there was no life before
I won't be here; i'll be watching from above
Always do you should
Always be good
And when push comes to shove
Pray for guidance from above
Shadow all your hopes with love
Live your life without a doubt
Outside in, inside out
Pray for guidance from above
Shadow all your hopes with love
Never be afraid, never be afraid
Pray for guidance from above
The closing of a chapter
The opening of a door
Brings forth life
Where there was no life before.
C. the reflection
(instrumental)

song performed by by Lindsey Buckingham
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An act of poetry

Ruin is what we need –
Despair is what we feed
Upon in poetry

A shock resets the nerves –
Helps remould the curves
Of written art

Catharsis helps portray –
Acting out a play
On expurgation

Tears or hidden fears
Release the bottled years
To ink a page:

The pen be our salvation.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010

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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Loud Is The Cry Of War

Loud is the cry of war
Many people shall it smite

Opening up death's dark door
Our people shaken to the core
As we feel our enemies bite
Loud is the cry of war

Many soldiers now implore
If this battle was worth the fight
Opening up death's dark door

Many hearts lie broken and torn
An Endless number of sleepless nights
Loud is the cry of war

Crowded will be heaven's shore
As the dead now take their heavenly flight
Opening up death's dark door

Although we won, we lost much more
As empty cries echo through the night
Opening up death's dark door
Loud is the cry of was

poem by Cat Winder
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Void

I closed the doors to the Seasons
Leaving time void of any change
Leaving the Earth in solid limbo
Putting tomorrow out of range
Bringing a silent closing-if you will
A stillness to a barren view
I closed the door to all Seasons
Leaving nothing old-nothing new
Just an empty cavern-like abyss
A swirling of nothingness remains
Blank views are my past and present visions
Nothing will ever be the same!

poem by Theodora Onken
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Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !

Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !
Why are we addicted to Poetry?
We Poets who write,
All day or all night,
That Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !

There’s scarce a moment in time,
That thoughts don’t find words in rhyme,
To put into verse,
Whether better or worse,
In that Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !

Why do we write all these Verses?
We must have better things to do,
But whatever we try,
And I don’t know why,
We write Poem upon Poem for you.

It’s funny how my style has changed,
It’s a Limerick today I’ve composed,
It wasn’t meant to be,
But it is ~ you can see,
Just Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !

© Yisroel Yonatan Goldman [JGthepoet] - 26 January 2006

poem by Jonathan Goldman a.k.a JGthepoet
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The Childless Spectator

the kindergarten kids
in their dark blue coats
and uniforms are playing
hide and seek
in the school

at first glance i thought
it is like that
but beyond what i seemingly
see i guess
something is wrong

one is closing the door
the other hides his face
and the little girl
wants to leave but her
face looks behind her

someone is weeping
i guess
but look at me
i am not really interested.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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That Other Kind Of Leaving

one is too obvious, folding the clothes,
putting them all in the bag, closing the door
and walking out,
this happens almost everyday
to people i know,
and i see tears, and i feel what they feel,
some claim they do not know how to laugh anymore after that event,

a few are envious, we keep this marriage working,
though they do not ask how or why, we show them
about distances,
the paradox of unions
and dissociation
how two people miss themselves when they are far away
emotionally

i guess i must also tell them about my departure
the art of leaving
vicariously,

you are here, but in quintessence
you are never here

giving no importance
to something trivial like a scar of long ago
still sticking somewhere
at your right foot

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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It Is A Habit

writing poems
when you really write poems
everyday and every moment of your life
even when you're in the middle of your
bread and butter eating thing
or even when you are defecating
writing poems becomes a habit
even when you sleep even when you dream
writing poems becomes a part of your system
you eat poetry you vomit poetry
you digest poetry you poo poetry
you breathe poetry you sweat poetry
you love poetry and you live with your poetry
and at the end you die with poetry

and your epitaph says: here lies the poet,
choked with poetry.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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She's Leaving Home

Wednesday morning at five o'clock
As the day begins
Silently closing her bedroom door
Leaving the note that she hoped would say more
She goes downstairs to the kitchen
Clutching her handkerchief
Quietly turning the back door key
Stepping outside she is free
She (we gave her most of our lives)
Is leaving (sacrificed most of our lives)
Home (we gave her everything money could buy)
She's leaving home after living alone for
So many years (bye bye)
Father snores as his wife gets into her dressing gown
Picks up the letter that's lying there
Standing alone at the top of the stairs
She breaks down and cries to her husband
Daddy our baby's gone
Why would she treat us so thoughtlessly
How could she do this to me
She (We never thought of ourselves)
Is leaving (never a thought for ourselves)
Home (we struggled hard all our lives to get by)
She's leaving home after living alone for
So many years (bye bye)
Friday morning at nine o'clock she is far away
Waiting to keep the appointment she made
Meeting a man from the motor trade
She (what did we do that was wrong)
Is having (we didn't know it was wrong)
Fun (fun is the one thing that money can't buy)
Something inside that was always denied for
So many years (bye bye)
She's leaving home (bye bye)

song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Some Changes That We Need

we need to fill the cracks on the walls
some trickles of light may hurt
on the roof the rain as always will be bad
for the floor
some leaks must be sealed
the stones on the pavement choked
by the grass that has been crawling
for all the years
i have to pick up so my foot may not
be hurt
and then some goodbyes maybe said
even without the hellos yet
we settle, that is a good word,
we move on, i think that is much better

i am closing a door and so i am opening
a window like what you are doing
i am taking sleep only to be taken by a dream
i am flying only to stop for a while
tomorrow is a new day, as always, i am not closing
my eyes for another view of the sea

there will be new seagulls coming but i have
stopped counting each of them since then
as always they shall feast on my schools of fish
and i do not really mind at all.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Mean More Than Closing A Door

Since we met that night,
I've tried to do right...
By you.
Even showing,
I can bend.
And comprehend your moods.
I've proven this.

Since we met that night,
I've pushed aside my pride...
It's true.
I want you to know,
You mean more...
Than closing a door,
To brood.

Take a moment to just step in my shoes.
Do this and you'll see,
My own wants are left needing.
Take a moment and don't think about 'you'.
When was it you wanted just to hold me.
Console me and just wanted to be near!

Since we met that night,
I've tried to do right...
By you.
Even showing,
I can bend.
And comprehend your moods.
I've proven this.

Since we met that night,
I've pushed aside my pride...
It's true.
I want you to know,
You mean more...
Than closing a door,
To brood.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Dont Write Poetry!

i dont write poetry...
i sweat poetry, i drink poetry,
i breathe poetry, i make love to poetry,
i fight poetry, i eat poetry,
i bleed poetry, i crap poetry...
too often i betray poetry,
sometimes i dropp poetry.
once i tripped over poetry,
got angry and kicked poetry.
i rocked poetry on a sleepless night,
i buried poetry on the hill...
i lived poetry, for i am poetry...

no, i dont write poetry,
but poetry writes me!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Funk

I am in a funk and I can't get out.
I feel like a door is slowly closing in on me.

BAM!
It finally has closed on me.

I am stuck and scared that I will never get out.
My mind is telling me to quit, but my heart says keep going with every beat it takes.

I guess I need to make a decision.
Before this door is locked forever.

I choose to keep on going and find a way.
There are some people on the other side waiting for me.

My family.

poem by Christina J. Williams
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My Opening Farewell

A lady stands before an open window
Staring so far away
She can almost feel the southern wind blow
Almost touching her restless day
She turns from her window to me
Sad smile her apology
Sad eyes reaching to the door
Daylight loses to another evening
And still she spares me the word goodbye
And sits alone beside me fighting her feelings
Struggles to speak but in the end can only cry
Suddenly its so hard to find
The sound of the words to speak her troubled mind
So Im offering these to her as if to be kind:
Theres a train everyday leaving either way
Theres a world, you know
Theres a way to go
And youll soon be gone -- thats just as well
This is my opening farewell
A childs drawings left there on the table
And a womans silk lying on the floor
And I would keep them here if I were able
Lock her safe behind this open door
But suddenly its so clear to me
That Id asked her to see what she may never see
And now my kind words find their way back to me
Theres a train everyday leaving either way
Theres a world, you know
You got a ways to go
And Ill soon believe -- its just as well
This is my opening farewell

song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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