Prophecy
I shall die hidden in a hut
In the middle of an alder wood,
With the back door blind and bolted shut,
And the front door locked for good.
I shall lie folded like a saint,
Lapped in a scented linen sheet,
On a bedstead striped with bright-blue paint,
Narrow and cold and neat.
The midnight will be glassy black
Behind the panes, with wind about
To set his mouth against a crack
And blow the candle out.
poem by Elinor Morton Wylie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
I'll Let The Winter Blow
It’s a cold cold morning out there
But I, I wouldn’t know
My door is locked
My windows shut
I’ll let the winter blow
And there’s ice this time of season
But you, you will not be
The winter winds
The raging snow
Or ice inside of me
And I’ve heard my heart is frozen
But I, I wouldn’t know
My door is locked
My windows shut
I’ll let the winter blow
poem by Ben Paynter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Back-door Angels
In and out of the front door, ran twelve back-door angels.
Their hair was a golden-brown ---
They didnt see me wink my eye.
'tis said they put we men to sleep with just a whisper,
And touch the heads of dying dogs --- and make them linger.
They carry their candles high --- and they light the dark hours.
And sweep all the country clean with pressed and scented wild-flowers.
They grow all their roses red, and paint our skies blue ---
Drop one penny in every second bowl ---
Make half the beggars lose,
Why do the faithful have such a will to believe in something?
And call it the name they choose,
Having chosen nothing.
Think Ill sit down and invent some fool ---
Some grand court jester.
And next time the die is cast, hell throw a six or two.
In and out of the back-door, ran one front-door angel,
Her hair was a golden-brown ---
She smiled and I think she winked her eye.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Country House
Did the door move, or was it always ajar?
The gladioli on the table are pale mauve.
I smell pale mauve and blue,
Blue soft like bruises—putrid—oozing—
The air oozes blue—mauve—
And the door with the black line where it does not shut!
I must pass that door to go to bed,
Or I must stay here
And watch the crack
Oozing air.
Is it—air?
poem by Amy Lowell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Yuki
(for Bina)
In Japanese, Yuki is snow—
unmelted and poised.
She sits askance
in front of a wine-tinged door
whose paint flakes
to expose its wood-raw skin—
pale, seemingly snow-flecked.
Her hair rambles all over
her face, eyes, and neck,
as she stares shyly—
sideways into the distance.
There are secrets locked,
bolted securely
in a shut non-descript studio
in Mumbai,
tucked away somewhere
in Prabha Devi—
as the industrial estate
temporarily quietens
at the allusive
thought of snow herself.
Fantasy instils in
factory-workers, passion—
just as for me—
peeling curls of paint,
a circular chromium lock,
a rusted dis-used bolt,
and breeze that affects
a woman’s hair and lashes,
inspires visions
of snow—
thaw, compassion, desire.
[inspired by a photo by Rafeeq Ellias]
poem by Sudeep Sen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Get Out Of My House
(hee-haw! hee-haw! hee-haw!)
When you left, the door was
(slamming!)
You paused in the doorway
(slamming!)
As though a thought stole you away.
(slamming!)
I watched the world pull you away.
(lock it!)
So I run into the hall,
(lock it!)
Into the corridor.
(lock it!)
Theres a door in the house
(slamming).
I hear the lift descending.
(slamming!)
I hear it hit the landing,
(slamming!)
See the hackles on the cat
(standing).
With my key i
(lock it).
With my key i
(lock it up).
With my key i
(lock it).
With my key i
(lock it up).
I am the concierge chez-moi, honey.
Wont letcha in for love, nor money.
(let me in!)
My home, my joy.
Im barred and bolted and i
(wont let you in).
(get out of my house!)
No strangers feet
Will enter me.
(get out of my house!)
I wash the panes,
(get out of my house!)
I clean the stains away.
(get out of my house!)
This house is as old as I am.
(slamming.)
This house knows all I have done.
(slamming.)
They come with their weather hanging round them,
(slamming.)
But cant knock my door down!
(slamming.)
With my key i
(lock it).
With my key i
(lock it).
This house is full of m-m-my mess.
(slamming.)
This house is full of m-m-mistakes.
(slamming.)
This house is full of m-m-madness.
(slamming.)
This house is full of, full of, full of fight!
(slam it.)
With my keeper i
(clean up).
With my keeper i
(clean it all up).
With my keeper i
(clean up).
With my keeper i
(clean it all up).
I am the concierge chez-moi, honey.
Wont letcha in for love, nor money.
(its cold out here!)
My home, my joy.
Im barred and bolted and i
(get out of my house!)
(wont let you in).
(get out of my house!)
No strangers feet
(get out of my house!)
Will enter me.
(get out of my house!)
I wash the panes.
(get out of my house!)
I clean the stains.
(get out of my house!)
(get out of my house!)
(get out of my house!)
(get out of my house!)
Wont enter me.
(get out of my house!)
(get out of my house!)
(get out of my house!)
(get out of my house!)
Yeah! wont let you in!
(get out of my house!)
(get out of my house!)
Let me in!
Woman let me in!
Let me bring in the memories!
Woman let me in!
Let me bring in the devil dreams!
I will not let you in!
Dont you bring back the reveries.
I turn into a bird,
Carry further than the word is heard.
Woman let me in!
I turn into the wind.
I blow you a cold kiss,
Stronger than the songs hit.
I will not let you in.
I face towards the wind.
I change into the mule.
I change into the mule.
Hee-haw! hee-haw! hee-haw-hee-haw-hee-haw-hee-haw...
Hee-haw! hee-haw! hee-haw!
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Catch The Shadow
I crawl through the back door
Catch the shadows
Wake up from my depression to hear the gamelan sounds
Flute, drum, ending,
Saw the puppets shadows
Which able to open the spirit traveling
Behind the suffering of meal
From the historical stage of man
When I went home, my father were angry
And my father ask why I saw the puppet shadows
Through the back door
Like a thief
I shut my mouth, no answer
When I answer this question, am not polite and get angrier
I recognize, it is dangerous to left the door
Left the door unlocked
But the God could came like the thief
Through the back door which unlocked
Or the locked in front of the door
At that time, I really did not know
Why my father always looking me
When I saw the puppets shadows
Although I crawled into the mass
My father always found me
In addition, ask me to go home
In the middle of the show
And then to live over my worry
Leave some question, what kind of the end of the story
To echo in my ear and to pound on
In my hearth wall
Then flow and crawled in my blood
To the whole my body
Became my life story
And leave the big question who always
Remainder me
Every step in my life
Always remained me to the sound
Of gamelan music where
Fluid, drum and xylophone like
Sturdy
Become dreams
In my slept
Until my life regarding
To pursue the shadows
Prasetya Utama
Bogor, Friday, January 13,2006
poem by Prasetya Utama
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Saturday Night In Blue
Saturday Night in Blue.
The house key was on the same ring as my car key, couldn’t find
them I had locked myself out. Car neatly parked I never drink drive,
the bar is nearby. I broke a window in the back, got in. Blinking light
outside: police telling me to open the door, I did, was wrestled to
the ground. At the station they came to their senses, let me go,
but refused to drive me back, since I smelled of booze and only had
myself to blame. Long walk home, bars had shut. Climbed through,
the same broken window, the keys, on the kitchen table. I uncorked
a bottle of wine, opened the front door, just in case, no one came,
I went to bed at dawn.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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5: 20 P.m.
departure,
a rush of people
escaping
the narrow door
bursting on the
road
towards home
you are here
with no place to go
the home
has turned into a mere house
plain stairs
with closed door
unwashed window panes
the lawn a stranger
to mowers
the dusts live here
and some
wishbones crushed
by a black dog
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stranger In My Own House
(a capella: she said: boy, your luck is running out...she make me feel like a stranger...in my own house)
I come stumbling in at a quarter to three
To the sound of my own dog growlin at me
Im scared to move or turn on a light
Youve got me creepin around in the dark
Like a thief in the night
Ive got no excuse, I should have known
Ive got no place to live
I never feel at home
I walk into the kitchen to see whats there
Im tired and Im hungry but the cupboards bare
Ive been working all day and all night too
I cant believe this is all I have to come back to
I guess Ill take a look upstairs, in the danger zone
I wonder what Im doing here
When I never feel at home
Im a stranger in my own house
Ive got the keys to the door
But Im still locked out
Im a stranger in my own house
Ill huff and Ill puff and Ill blow this house down
Cant be a stranger in my own house
I see the do not disturb sign on my bedroom door
What is this sheet and pillow laying on the floor
I wore out my welcome
I hear you loud and clear
Its time to get a few things straight around here
Ive got no excuse, I should have known
Ive got a place to live but I never feel at home
Im just a stranger in my own house
Ive got the keys to the door
But Im still locked out
Stranger in my own house
Ill huff and Ill puff and Ill blow this house down
Cant be a stranger in my own house
Ive got no excuse, I should have known
With a woman like you Im better off alone
Im a stranger in my own house
Ive got the keys to the door
But Im still locked out
Im just a stranger in my own house
Oh, honey Im home
Im just a stranger in my own house
Im just a stranger in my own house
You got a lion on your hands girl, not a mouse!
Im just a stranger in my own house
Im just a stranger in my own house
Well, somebodys got to go...
Stranger
Stranger
song performed by by Foreigner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Locked
Children tattooed, pierced and studded, dreadlocked;
parents panicked, indecisive, deadlocked.
Mother to daughter: live as you must, if you must;
for just a bit longer, keep the door to your bed locked.
Son to father: teach me what you know,
but I won't agree to keep the door to my head locked.
Mother to father: where have you been, and where
have you kept your thoughts and all you might have said locked?
They'd come so far, and then she saw, in him,
the door to their life, their home, their daily bread locked.
One night in a fiery panic dream he ran
and found the door toward which he'd wildly fled locked.
Aging, but at long last ripe and ready,
she found the on-ramp to the road ahead locked.
They learned too late the cost of keeping that cellar
full of truths that could not be gainsaid locked.
The young return. Too many find the way back
to lives in the country for which they fought and bled locked.
Eric, old friend, as you try each door in the mind,
will you wake one day to find the heart instead locked?
poem by Eric Torgersen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lydia
Break forth, break forth, O Sudbury town,
And bid your yards be gay
Up all your gusty streets and down,
For Lydia comes to-day!
I hear it on the wharves below;
And if I buy or sell,
The good folk as they churchward go
Have only this to tell.
My mother, just for love of her,
Unlocks her carvëd drawers;
And springs of withered lavender
Drop down upon the floors.
For Lydia’s bed must have the sheet
Spun out of linen sheer,
And Lydia’s room be passing sweet
With odors of last year.
The violet flags are out once more
In lanes salt with the sea;
The thorn-bush at Saint Martin’s door
Grows white for such as she.
So, Sudbury, bid your gardens blow,
For Lydia comes to-day;
Of all the words that I do know,
I have but this to say.
poem by Lizette Woodworth Reese
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Midnight Rambler
Did you hear about the midnight rambler
Everybody got to go
Did you hear about the midnight rambler
The one that shut the kitchen door
He don't give a hoot of warning
Wrapped up in a black cat cloak
He don't go in the light of the morning
He split the time the cock'rel crows
Talkin' about the midnight gambler
The one you never seen before
Talkin' about the midnight gambler
Did you see him jump the garden wall
Sighin' down the wind so sadly
Listen and you'll hear him moan
Talkin' about the midnight gambler
Everybody got to go
Did you hear about the midnight rambler
Well
song performed by by Rolling Stones from Let It Bleed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love sticks on
If a door is shut
Don’t get upset.
Search and find.
There’s another door
Open, perhaps wider.
In our courtship
The door, don’t shut.
I want no other door
Even if it is wider.
No door is dearer than
The door of your bosom.
10-10-1999.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore
Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore —
No doubt you have heard the name before —
Was a boy who never would shut a door!
The wind might whistle, the wind might roar,
And teeth be aching and throats be sore,
But still he never would shut the door.
His father would beg, his mother implore,
'Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore,
We really do wish you would shut the door!'
Their hands they wrung, their hair they tore;
But Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore
Was deaf as the buoy out at the Nore.
When he walked forth the folks would roar,
'Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore,
Why don't you think to shut the door?'
They rigged up a Shutter with sail and oar,
And threatened to pack off Gustavus Gore
On a voyage of penance to Singapore.
But he begged for mercy and said, 'No more!
Pray do not send me to Singapore
On a Shutter, and then I will shut the door!'
'You will?' said his parents; 'then keep on shore!
But mind you do! For the plague is sore
Of a fellow that never will shut the door,
Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore!'
poem by William Brighty Rands
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Dear Goodfew, Regarding the Poems I Sent
Don't worry about reading them.
If good enough they will keep.
If bad they will linger like old garbage
placed outside a neighbor's door
in the middle of the night only to
wrap tightly around when opening
a morning door to leave for work,
pushed back, turned off, sour,
5 flights of breathless descent
cursing the occupant in 5A.
The front door slams behind.
Stepping into sunlight and shadow
the day is won, has worn away the
mal-odors of morning. Burn now
instead to live, to leave a strong
rot when put out a lover's door
because of laziness,
a partial rejection hung upon a knob.
poem by Warren Falcon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Darts
The bitter cold wind crawls like
A creepy insect,
Under my clothes to a bare skin.
The thick woollen jacket is zipped
Up to the chin,
I'm not differed from a black sheep.
The clumsy gloves are on.
All the lights is bright and the
Door is half-open.
I inhale the strong, invisible
Deadly fumes from the painted wood,
Won't do my lungs any good.
Yes it's pretty awkward
And there's homework in need of doing,
But right now
I want to be with my dad
In his shed
Throwing darts.
Behind That Locked Door
(harrison)
Why are you still crying
Your pain is now through
Please forget those teardrops
Let me take them from you
The love you are blessed with
This worlds waiting for
So let out your heart, please, please
From behind that locked door
Its time we start smiling
What else should we do
With only this short time
I know to be here with you
And the tales you have taught me
From the things that you saw
Makes me want out your heart, please, please
From behind that locked door
And wherever my love goes
If Im rich or Im poor
Please let out my heart, please, please
From behind that locked door
From behind that locked door
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Behind That Locked Door
Why are you still crying?
Your pain is now through
Please forget those teardrops
Let me take them from you
The love you are blessed with
This worlds waiting for
So let out your heart, please, please
From behind that locked door
Its time we start smiling
What else should we do?
With only this short time
Im gonna be here with you
And the tales you have taught me
From the things that you saw
Makes me want out your heart, please, please
From behind that locked door
And if ever my love goes
If Im rich or Im poor
Please let out my heart, please, please
From behind that locked door
From behind that locked door
song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Purple Stain
To finger paint is not a sin
I put my middle finger in
Your monthly blood is what I win
I'm in your house now let me spin
Python power straight from Monty
Celluloid loves got a John Frusciante
Spread your head and spread the blanket
She's too free and I'm the patient
Black and white a red and blue
Things that look good on you
And if I scream don't let me go
A purple stain - I know
Knock on wood we all stay good
'Cause we all live in Hollywood
With Dracula and Darla Hood
Unspoken words were understood
Up to my ass in alligators
Let's get it on with the alligator haters
Did what you did - did what you said
What's the point yo what's the spread
Black and white a red and blue
Things that look good on you
And if I scream don't let me go
A purple stain - I know
And if I call for you to stay
Come hit the funk on your way
It's way out there but I don't care
'Cause this is where - I go
Knock on wood we all stay good
'Cause we all live in Hollywood
With Dracula and Darla Hood
Unspoken words were understood
It's way out there
But I don't care
'Cause this is what
I want to wear
Knock on wood we all stay good
'Cause we all live in Hollywood
To finger paint is not a sin
I put my middle finger in
Your monthly blood is what I win
I'm in your house now let me spin
Feather light but you can't move this
Farley is an angel and I can prove this
Purple is a stain upon my pillow
Let's Sleep weeping willow
Black and white a red and blue
Things that look good on you
And if I scream don't let me go
A purple stain - I know
And if I call for you to stay
Come hit the funk on your way
It's way out there but I don't care
'Cause this is where - I go
Knock on wood we all stay good
'Cause we all live in Hollywood
With Dracula and Darla Hood
Unspoken words were understood
It's way out there
But I don't care
'Cause this is what
I want to wear
Knock on wood we all stay good
'Cause we all live in Hollywood
song performed by by Red Hot Chili Peppers from Californication
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thanks For The G Chord
(Mark Narmore/Byron Hill)
It sure is nice
Sittin' on this porch
Pickin' these old time songs
No matter how far
I get from here
This place still feels like home
Remember all those summer nights
We'd talk about life and such
Well Dad, I've come to realize
I haven't said enough
Thanks for the G chord
Teachin' me about the good Lord
Givin' me that old Ford
When I turned sixteen
Thanks for hangin' in there
When I was goin' nowhere
Thanks for never
Changin' that lock on the front door
Thanks for the G chord
That flat top Martin
You gave me back then
You know I've still got it now
I keep it locked up
In that same ol' case
You used to tote around
Sometimes when the crowd is quiet
I'll bring it out again
And play the first song you taught me
Back when I was ten
Thanks for the G chord
Teachin' me about the good Lord
Givin' me that old Ford
When I turned sixteen
Thanks for hangin' in there
When I was goin' nowhere
Thanks for never
Changin' that lock on the front door
Thanks for the G chord
Thanks for hangin' in there
When I was goin' nowhere
Thanks for never
Changin' that lock on the front door
Thanks for the G chord
song performed by by John Michael Montgomery
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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