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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Related quotes
Door
Behind the door what happens
behind the door what's hidden
till you keep the door closed
you are not exposed
Elseone cannot peep in
Elseone cannot step in
other side of closed door
you live behind secured.
If you want door of others
to open for you
keep your door open for
who needs you.
poem by S.D. Tiwari
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Closed Door
sometimes we want to enter
a door
a closed door that does not open
no matter how hard we
knock
we try being courteous and gentle
and so patient
eating every waiting time
like we are the most foolish of all fools
knocking a closed door
seducing it more often with our
pleadings
begging and even compromising
for a dance
to convince the owner of the door to
open it
but no one hears, no one cares to listen
to our pleadings,
no one likes the dance of compromises
the door is still closed
and then the last crooked thing happens
we take the axe
and break the door which is closed
forcing it open
only to find that all the people there are dead
there is nothing inside
but mystery and
grief
an unsolved crime, no more
no less.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Doors
A door may open
Or it may close
It may be wooden
Or steel, I suppose.
A door keeps us in
Or may lock us out,
A door may be silent
Or with noise, may shout.
Doors are for safety,
Our protection -
May rot in antiquity
Lose purpose and mission.
A door like chance,
Can open a dream.
A door like romance,
Can cause some steam.
But there is one door
With its key - never part,
Freely open, evermore -
The door of your heart!
Cynthia BuhainBaello
February 19,2012
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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On The Other Side Of The Door
If it takes one key,
To open one door...
With opportunities awaiting,
On the other side of it.
WHY would anyone choose to sit,
Ignoring what has been given...
Because they have decided,
If what is on the other side...
Would be something,
They would choose to like.
And...this is BEFORE,
Any approach was made...
By them towards the door.
If it takes one key,
To open one door...
With opportunities awaiting,
On the other side of it.
And one does not take advantage of this,
But wishes to be given clues and hints?
That key...
That opens that one door,
With opportunities awaiting?
Has been given to someone...
Looking for their ship to sail in.
Even if that ship was on the other side of the door.
'Captain?
We are still awaiting for the arrival of your chosen passenger.
Perhaps there has been a misunderstanding? '
~Do not worry about it.
We will cater to the ones who did use their keys.
We are not here to convince.
Just service.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Open The Door - IV
Mom! Open the door
I have been waiting on the door
It is chilly cold, havn't sufficient clothes
Mom! please open the door
the sun is on head
may i get stroke
Mom! please open the door
Mom! open the door
it is raining cats and dogs
my clothes are fully drenched
Mom! please open the door
Don't be so truculent
I shalt be thy obedient son
Please open the door
poem by Ramesh Rai
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Dropping By Your House This Morning
i dropped by your house this very early morning
the windows are closed
but the door is half-open
and i could have given in to this little curiosity
that cats keep on their paws
and soft feet
or hands if you may
but i didn't. there is something in the houe
that says
you had a bad day and that night you did not have
a sound sleep
the roses are wilting and a flower pot falls on the ground
broken
the soil splashed like spilled water on the grass
there is no sound of the wind
from the storm last night
i just dropped by. I respect you. The door of the house
finally closed
i did not see the hands that closed it.
it maybe yours
or someone else's
the rug has spoken. You want to be alone.
to keep the faint light left
in that little room. the curtains fall. the lights
went off on that very early morning.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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God and goodness and Hope.....
I have always wanted to be
what you are,
oh, how i like it to be
where you are now,
and so i follow you,
every step
that you have taken
is a map
of my destination
you are inside that room and
i want to be in there too
but the door is locked, i knock and
no one hears it,
you are deaf and blind
no one opens the door for me
and i begin to
look at the window
they are closed too and i go behind the house
to find the kitchen door
it too, is closed
and i stand there alone
outside, and it rains and there is that sound of
thunder and
lightning is the only one that
gives me the flashes of light
to light my path
i am scared, of course, i am normally scared
by what is happening
and you are there showing your back at me
dining with the rest of your
guests
these successful people
who hold in their hands
fame and fortune
and who can withhold or grant other
people's opportunities
i am abandoned, and you are there inside that room
with all these societal gems
i give up,
i shall find another world of my own,
where opportunities are given for free
no dirty tricks, no influences, plain merit and
fitness, and
skill and competence,
i will work it out
from within, and i challenge myself with these words:
'soon, soon! '
i will be there,
because i am good and God will hand it to me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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to be read with the playing of mozart's clarinet quintet in A, K 581
I ONCE will remember you
entering inside my life like a view from the hills
a black bird perched on a branch of mahogany
there for hours staring at me
tried to shoo you away
you stayed like i am this man that owed you something
and i have not paid you
what you deserve
i closed my door and peeped upon a hole of light
you are still there
there was rain and storm and thunder and lightning
i closed my door and windows and checked the roof for leaks
blackbird you are still there
staring at the house unmoved by my injustices
you are the black bird undying
you are the song insistent upon itself
inside my heart
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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What Do You Do I Ask
(5/4/12)
What do you do when you feel all hope is gone
And hanging by a thread you linger on.
What do you do when you take three steps forward
And eight steps back, and in life you're always under attack.
What do you do when you have door after door
Slam in your face, and to hide - there is no place.
What do you do when your loved ones have lost faith in you
And you don't know what to do.
What do you do when you pray every day
And the answers don't come your way.
Is this really the time to give up hope
When all your life you learned to cope.
Your dreams don't come when you want
And may never come at all
And to the ground they may fall.
Your dreams may not be what GOD has intended
But in your life, your dreams may be ended.
There may be another path that he wants you to travel
And his answers will all unravel.
Your life is not lived just for yourself
You must touch everyone else.
We are surrounded by millions of people
And each life touching another
And giving hope to so many others.
We can not see what he has in store
But we live with faith as we open the new door.
The door may be something that we don't expect
And it will make our lives better yet.
So open the door and let that radiating light shine through
For this is the light and path that belongs to you.
poem by Louis Rams
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I Wait At The Door Of My Own Life
I WAIT AT THE DOOR OF MY OWN LIFE
I wait at the door of my own life
It does not open
The cities of the world go by
I do not visit them
Soon I will die
The great universe will go on spinning
My dreams will be forgotten
I wait at the end of my life for the door to open
And no one waits on the other side
I am alone with a lifetime of pages
Who will ever never read them?
This poem too waiting by the door
Knows it will never open.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Continental Drift
Love comes at the speed of light
Love comes at the speed of light
Love comes in a strange disguise
Love comes
Open the door and let the light pour over
Open the door don't you keep me out
Open the door and let the light pour over
Hear me shout
Open the door and let the light pour over
Open the door don't you keep me out
Open the door and let the light pour over
Love comes at the speed of light
Love comes
It's a pure as silver
It's as pure as gold
It's a rushing river
Let it run all over me
It's as pure as silver
It's as pure as gold
Let it run all over me
Love comes
Love comes at the speed of light
Love comes at the speed of light
song performed by by Rolling Stones from Steel Wheels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Let My Love Open The Door
Pete Townshend) (various dates)
The people keep repeatin'
The children follow along
Everybody keeps from changin'
And you could say you did enough...
Let my love open your door... (3x)
To your heart...
Let my love open the door (2x)
When everything feels all over
Everybody seems unkind
I'll give you a four-leaf clover
Take all worries out of your mind
Let my love open your door... (3x)
To your heart...
Let my love open the door...
To your heart...
Let my love open the door...
Have the only key to your heart...
I can stop you from fallin' apart
Tried to say in my own way...
Somebody give me the chance to say...
Let my love open your door...
It's all I'm lookin' for
And erase yourself from misery
There's only one thing that's gonna set you free...
When trouble really falls you...
Don't let it tie you down
Love can cure your problems
You're so lucky I'm around
Let my love open your door... (3x)
To your heart...
Let my love open the door...
To your heart...
Let my love open the door... (5x)
Oh...to your heart...
Oh...baby, I know I said, I said, I said, I said, I said, I said...
...I said, I said, I said, I said, I said, I said...
Oh...na na na...let my love open the door...
Let my love... (2x
song performed by by Pearl Jam
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A New Door
i remember
this door was made
12 years ago
the day when i married you.
we chose clear lacquer
to keep its original
mahogany grain
we keep the gloss
and we were never
at loss.
there were loud slams
oh, i hate to remember
but there were also gentler closes
of this door
with all the tender intents
of not having to disturb
a single soul.
then the hinges begin to rust
and the door creaks and
screams getting louder
like the madness of the one
who fears
that love is finally gone.
the termites came
and the frames get hollow as
time pierces it
showing the emptiness
inside it as though
it was mere kind
of a seashell
the knob is finally broken
and the key to open it again
was lost
then we come back to our senses
after twelve years
the door has to be replaced
with a new one
this time white in paint
the hinges glossy copper
the knob in shining silver
and the key fits in without any sound
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Rizal
i agree
education is the key
when the door if
finally opened
in fact a long time ago
and
we already had
333 years in that
Spanish convent and
43 years of
that Hollywood experience
another door has been
closed
and still
the key has to open it
one door leads to
another
same key
the young keep on getting
that key
another door is close
more keys
each key has become
more expensive
and some have thrown
that key away
meanwhile the Authority
is asking
that doors outside the country
be opened
export labor
brain drain
that is another key
problem
on the other
hand
it is not the money
it is the open mind
resilient to
poverty
taking time still to laugh
at those hard times
i agree
despite the irrelevance
it is still
the rightful key
the door is open
and we are inside it
no one
no one can take this house
again
from us
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Key
I feel I've been this way before,
Like stepping thru an open
door.
The door was shut, locked up
tight,
Darkness was there, instead
of light.
I looked and looked for the key,
Someone kept hiding it from
me.
Then one day, I turned around,
The key was lying on the
ground.
With key in hand, unlocked the
door,
Inside I started to explore.
poem by Heather Burns
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Today... 'The Door
Where do we mortals find that narrow heavenly Door?
Through which millions of sinners have entered before?
It is found at the cross where Jesus was crucified
There for You paid for our sins, laid down Your life and died
With Your arms outstretched so wide and saying, 'Come to me'
For we find forgiveness by Your death at Calvary
And we see the Door before us swinging open wide
Allowing us to pass through the veil to heavens side
At the cross the veil in the temple was rent in two
We can still hear You calling sinners to come to You
For the door into heaven has been flung open wide
'Come to me you weary, ' we hear as we go inside
Calvary's cross is the Door through which man can go through
And there is no other way only this door will do
For You are the Way by which we must enter heaven
It is at the cross we must come to be forgiven
Then as we look behind us on the lintel we see
'Chosen before the foundation of the world in Me'
Though millions have come yet there is still room for more
God by His Grace has allowed us to enter the Door
So come to that Door for it is opened wide for you
And taste the glories of heaven as you enter through
The cry goes out 'whosoever will may enter in'
It is at the Cross where your journey has to begin
All who enter the door shall be safely kept inside
There forever with the Lord Jesus they all shall abide
Each one was chosen by God before the world began
Included by His grace as part of salvations plan
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box below)
Reconciliation
on slow
calculated steps
shall you approach
a door
you knock
there is no hesitation
for a reconciliation
on a remorse
pain shall be
forgotten
and then the door
shall open
the embrace waits
tears fall.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Writer
When a writer, takes up his pen,
Yesterday, today, and
tomorrow begins.
We approach an open door,
Inside starting to explore.
Taking my readers on the
journey too,
Precious treasures to review.
Come along, go with me,
together, we will find the
key.
Exploring life's mysteries.
poem by Heather Burns
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Contemplation On The Climbing Of The Stairs...
as i climb the stair
i always think what is up there
when i arrive there
the door is closed
and i am thinking why
contemplating on the other possibilities
shall i open the door
and ask myself in
what if there is nobody there
what if it is just a door and there is nothing inside
i sit on the the last step
and i think again
what if it is not the stair after all
but only the ground
or the pebble or the grass
what if it is only myself and there is nobody else
what if i am just dreaming
what if i am nothing at all
but a thought
without weight without volume
what if this is all about air
a breath a hush a slip?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A glimpse
a glimpse
the half opened door
some would say
a half closed door
it all depends on the
state of mind you are in
well half closed for pessismist
and half opened for optimist
half opened or half closed door
so long as it is open
and not close
a good exercise for the mind
of a story teller, novelist, a film maker
a glimpse at the half closed door
the mind is thrown open
like the kick you would give
a half opened door
so that you and pet cat could
glide through easily
the stories that start coming out
from a glimpse at the half opened door
agatha's murdered corpse lying behind
a stalker, a ghost in the corridor of the mind
from the glimpse of the half closed door
a million possibilities, ideas pouring forth
half closed door, half opened door
whichever way you may say
it is an opened door
a million stories, ideas, possibilities
knock at the door of my mind
a glimpse of the half closed, half opened door
my half closed half opened eyes
open themselves to my ever curious mind
boundless as the universe
inspired by
A Glimpse
A GLIMPSE, through an interstice caught,
Of a crowd of workmen and drivers in a bar-room, around the stove,
late of a winter night-And I unremark'd seated in a corner;
Of a youth who loves me, and whom I love, silently approaching, and
seating himself near, that he may hold me by the hand;
A long while, amid the noises of coming and going-of drinking and
oath and smutty jest,
There we two, content, happy in being together, speaking little,
perhaps not a word.
Walt Whitman
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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