The Door Of The Hearts!
Once door less world is full of doors and partitions,
The designers design it with absolute precisions,
The controversial carpenters may carve and erect it,
The Do it yourself can be obtained from the stores of experience,
A few are locked and secured not to let the intruders,
For the fear of sharing the treasured solitude convenience,
A few are just closed, left unattended and expected,
To be knocked, carrying the bouquet of willing flowers,
A few are just flip flops and can be opened from either side,
A few need the confirming finger prints and prospective voices,
A few can be opened by just pressing the fickle remote controls,
To show and share the intimacy before it locks by itself,
Too many doors metamorphoses from one to another,
Day and night, everywhere on the streets of heart's corner,
Mostly well maintained, though a few are irreparable,
To invite, feed, love, care, compromise and share.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Related quotes
Behind closed doors
Doors made of steel
others made of wood
life going on behind them
things that are bad and good.
Doors that are always closed
while some are forever open wide
behind doors can lie secrets
and where people can go to hide.
A door opened to a new future
another one blocking your way
families at war behind the door
but where children can happily play.
Prisoners locked in behind solid doors
waiting for the key to turn in the lock
as lonely people sit in their homes
waiting for someone just to knock.
The doors of Gold created in Heaven
only opened for the chosen few
behind them lies an eternal life
but will they open for me or you?
poem by Kevin Halls
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Behind closed doors they had what were legendary battles I hear but when the doors opened there was absolute unity. Not a crack could be found. No separation whatsoever. They were locked together for the good of the community.
quote by Maynard Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No Difference
i stared out the window
at the bare frozen limbs
of my favorite old tree...
i closed my eyes...
saw leaves bud forth
and turn green...
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.
i stared at the young girl
reading at a corner table
i closed my eyes...
and saw an old grandmother
washing dishes with her grandbabies
playing in the floor at her feet...
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.
i saw the young man
carrying his son on his shoulders
i closed my eyes...
and saw an old man standing
by his son's casket
draped by a flag...
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.
i saw an old man
standing on the corner begging
i closed my eyes...
i saw a young boy
playing ball in the street
laughing and dodging cars
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.
i saw a crack head shivering
by an electric heater in a bare apartment
i closed my eyes...
and saw a young a/g student
helping some kid with his math
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.
i saw a desperate girl
walking the streets
looking for a john
i closed my eyes...
and saw a young girl's room
stuffed animals on the bed
pictures of her and her daddy on the wall
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.
i saw a young man
wild-eyed with fear
in a prison cell
i closed my eyes...
i saw a young boy gone hunting
with his grandpa on thanksgiving morn
with his dog by his side
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.
i pulled back the veil of time...
knowing, there is no difference!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Doors Opened And Closed
Our God can open any door, making things better than before,
That last place in which He chose, to permit that door to close.
He takes us on a chosen path, through that uncertain aftermath,
Working out all for our good, doing for us what we never could.
Nothing can hinder God at all, no matter how big, or how small,
He, who moves the heart of a king, is not hindered by anything.
God always works in His time, a schedule that is so unlike mine,
As God deals with me faithfully, I need to wait on God patiently.
Seeing no doors opened now, I must not question why or how?
As all doors still seem closed, to see what is not yet disclosed,
When I do not understand, knowing His heart, I see God’s hand.
As it may be a time for me to wait, while God’s help I anticipate.
Some doors are closed to stay, and inaccessible to our dismay,
Forced out of a comfort zone, but, we’re not forced to go alone,
Moved by God’s plan instead, guided by Grace, to move ahead,
And in His Grace, strength we find, to leave familiar ways behind.
Whether doors are closed or left ajar, in your earthly life thus far,
God will always open one for us, when in Him we place our trust,
And believers need not to despair, as our Lord shall always care,
For each one of us until we see, the Glorious Door up in Eternity.
(Copyright ©09/2009)
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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Revolving Doors
There was not a single stain in the horizon
When the svelte shadow of the dusk climbed,
Bulged, wrinkled and fulminated in a cloud
Shedding the unwanted downpour and
Feigning an ostensible slumber
And in this sedated quiescence, eyes opened
Eyes opened - to the cry of a thirsty child,
To the drifting lucid voices wafting with bodies,
To the chasing taillights and streetlamps,
To the maladroitly dangling pendulums,
To the unanchored claws of crows and doves,
To the final page written with ink blots;
Eyes opened to the myriad reasons
Why doors opened and closed -
For the undoing and departing
For consigning and contriving
To the earthly gods and beacons
That girdled us with hopeful unrealities
Eyes opened to accommodate the coming
Batted an eyelash to find them departing,
Curled softly then bloomed like a moonflower
Riveted in the unclosed door with chaste hopes
Eyes opened to these trivial veracities:
In these calloused world where the hinges
Are the only ones that stays in its place
We will meet again, caught in revolving doors
And eyes will open to second chances
And close to sleep with disappointments and regrets.
poem by Norman Santos
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I Thank You Once More
My Lord, I thank You once more, for every open and closed door,
As I am led through this life, by my Savior and Lord, Jesus Christ,
All those doors in life closed to me, avoiding what I could not see,
And opening doors I didn’t pursue, doors you had led me through.
Knowing those things, I do not know, you led me in the way to go,
Mindful of your Purpose and Plan, You overrule the ideals of man,
With your plan always for my best, whether a trial or a time of rest,
As Your Peace fills me all the way, while you guide me day to day.
Lord, I also lift thanks to You, not only for the past, but future too,
For the confidence in my heart, as from my side You won’t depart;
Paving a way ahead for me; as you ready my heart for what will be,
While Your Presence and Peace, which fills my life does not cease.
Most of all, my God I thank You for, Jesus Christ, salvation’s door,
A Door that’s been opened for all, saving all men from Adam’s fall,
Opened for all at Calvary’s Cross, to cleanse all our sins and dross,
Through the Precious Blood of Christ, so we may enter Eternal Life.
Lord, I thank You for that final door, to live with Christ forevermore,
A place in Heaven I’m assured; this by the blood of Christ my Lord,
And that soon, this sinful mortal, will pass through Heaven’s Portal,
To enter the place prepared for me, not just for a time, but eternally.
(Copyright ©12/2010)
Two Doors
A long time ago in a land far away,
a stranger appeared from nowhere.
He had journeyed through a portal
that govern time and space.
It pulled him through to a place
of which he knew not where.
On his arrival, he was arrested
and sent before the King
who was a wise old man,
and who loved to play games.
He looked at the stranger,
asked where he had come from.
The stranger could not say.
To say he did not know
was a crime throughout the land.
It was a plea of guilty.
The King looked at the stranger and said.
The punishment for your answer
under our law is certain death.
However, you are a stranger
so I am giving you the choice of two doors.
One door leads to happiness,
the other leads to instant death.
The choice will be all yours.
You will be taken to the arena,
given a special key
that will fit both of the doors.
At the stroke of twelve,
the stranger was marched to the arena
and left standing there.
The two doors stood side by side,
all he had to do was choose.
He moved towards them
and stood for a moment of two.
Finally, he advanced towards the left,
but at the last moment,
changed his mind and opened the right.
As the door opened,
the stranger gasped at what was inside.
Did the stranger open the right door?
I will let you the reader to decide.
30 October 2007
poem by David Harris
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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 Secret Door
The Mystery
Nadia, gentle zephyr of remembrance, where are you now?
In my mother’s flat there were three doors, the first door,
with an old fashion copper handle, often slammed in anger.
The second door into mother’s bed room was never closed,
but covered with a dark curtain. A small flat I slept on a sofa
in the living room.
There was a third door, from her bedroom into the kitchen.
Sometimes when mother was out, I tried to open it but it was
always locked. There were nights when I wasn’t sure if awake
or not, the locked door opened as a sigh of ancient dreams.
Dawn, I heard the faint sound again, but I was too terrified to
know the truth of what I wasn’t sure of
Morning, mother got up boiled water poured it into a bowl so
I could wash my face. Breakfast, slices of yesterday’s loaf with
strawberry jam and milky coffee. I wanted to know of the sighs
in the night, but sensed it was forbidden to ask.
Time has many doors some will be forever locked, so I ask?
Nadia, gentle zephyr of remembrance, where are you now?
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Wingless Angels
Oh what a joy! !
It is rippled enough to be entered;
But are you matured enough to taste my love? !
For the closed doors of love are now opened.
You always want it closed so take care of it,
I always want it opened so take care of me;
For a sweet song is a sweet song!
And like the Wingless Angels around my love.
Oh what a joy! !
A nice kiss is a nice kiss,
And a nice look is a nice look!
But i have the Weingless Angels around me,
And like a beautiful lady and a handsome man.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Doors
She always feels doors are closed to her,
an outsider, too timid to knock.
Her brother just glides through them
as though they don't exist
and her friends hammer at them,
proclaiming their entrance with fizz.
Some doors, of course, are best left shut,
they hold unwanted demons
that will spark off heaps of troubles
and some are best ignored
for beating at them
will just result in tears.
My door is a bright yellow, easily seen.
It's open to friends and closed to enemies.
It has a big letterbox for greeting cards
but not for bills
and a DO NOT DISTURB sign
for salesmen and the weird.
Doors keep you warm in winter
and cool in summer,
they may protect you,
but sometimes hem you in.
Doors are two way streets,
or dual carriageways.
poem by Ruth Walters
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The Elevator
I was on the ground floor
and I wanted level five.
I pressed the call button
and waited for it to arrive.
It arrived with no one in it,
so I entered and closed the door.
It took its time to get going,
then slowed for the next floor.
The doors hesitated then opened,
but no one was there,
but I definitely felt a presence
and a disturbance in the air.
I was standing still and anxious
when the lift shook from side to side.
The doors closed and up it went to three
where the doors opened wide.
Again no one was there waiting,
but I felt someone get in.
Movement in the air and floor
was most unsettling.
I was overwhelmed and nervous
as it approached level four.
It stopped, but no one was waiting,
just like the stops before.
The elevator paused for a second
and I swear someone got in.
I was certain that I heard whispering
as the elevator set off again.
The space felt uncomfortably eerie
cold, but very much alive.
The rotten egg smell made me sickly,
as we went passed level five.
The light suddenly turned to darkness,
and I could see forms and shapes.
They were pushing each other violently,
as we approached level eight.
I pressed the emergency button,
but we still passed eight, nine, and ten.
At level eleven the elevator stopped…
then began to go down again.
At eight the elevator came to a halt
and everyone but me got out.
The darkness became light again,
so relieved, I gave out a shout.
The elevator continued downwards
and stopped at the ground floor.
An old lady and her dog waiting to enter,
but I couldn’t exit the elevator door.
poem by Orlando Belo
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The Doors Are Locked
From inside of this room
I shall not exit
I have locked the doors
To the world outside.
It does not matter to me what is happening outside, because
Behind these locked doors
Is the world that I live in,
This land of my dreams that
I have fabricated for myself alone.
I recall my father recently reading me a story-
Of a woman who created a world within her dreams-
There she lived and locked herself
Inside of the doors that
Barred her from all that is real.
My father's hope was that
I would find my way out from
This place he called the land of my delusions.
This place which he calls the land of my delusions has become
My only veracity.
From the inside of this room
I shall not exit-it is here I safely converse with
The voices inside of my mind.
The doors to this room are locked, but
I can still hear my mother weeping, and
I hear my mother cry out from the midst of her tears-
What has become of my only child?
Inside of this room, I have constructed a world.
The doors are locked and
I have shut reality out-
The doors to my room are locked and
I have lost the key.
My mother is still weeping as her one and only
Has lost the key that would open the doors
To the world outside-
My mother is sobbing; the key is lost and alas-
Her only child's sanity has also been lost.
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Hall Of Doors
You walk through the hall of doors
With life in sight with death in mind
You watch people open their doors
And you think of how the doors and fate bind
You watch waiting to see your exit
As you see others turn down their path to their end
You know that the paths can not change
You know even with time fate shall not mend
Down the hall you walk
Doors lining each side
Every person holds the key to one of those locks
All around you people stride
Doors open
As people come to their door mats
You walk by doors just hoping,
hoping the next isn't yours, isn't your mat
You watch parents and children leaving eachothers sides
You see love being torn, hate being sewn
as the doors open wide
Some people leave together, some alone
You wait to see your door, your fate
You watch to see which door your key fits
You watch to see if your heart is with love or hate
You watch untill you find the mat at which you shall sit
You walk through the hall of doors
With life in sight, death in mind
You watch as people open their doors
You wait to see which door your fate lays behind.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Soft And Tender
Naked bodies
locked in passion’s throes,
behind closed doors,
so no one can see.
The heat of their loving,
within their embrace.
The soft and tender
murmurs that their voices make.
The passion rises,
and theirs voices adhere.
They are locked together,
two becoming one
in the heat of the passion,
which no one can feel, but them.
The steamy seductress
where loving is our fate,
now laying side by side,
arms still locked
around one another,
now that the passion is over.
16 June 2007
poem by David Harris
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Better At The Buttom
I'm just a flip-flops,
A really cute one,
& you're just normal,
that everyone has.
I am just lying,
but I wish its true,
for me to be a flip-flops,
A really cute one.
I wish you know
Why I'm doing this poem.
For you to be touched,
Throughout your life.
In your every single-step,
You improve a lot.
I'm just a flip-flops
that supports you a lot.
Continue your dreams,
take me as your mentor.
I'm just a flip-flops
And I wish it's true
poem by Rudy Rico Castillo
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Behind Closed Doors
Written by new order
There is a secret place
Underneath a tree
Where if you go and haste
You will find a key
The key will open doors
And you will look inside
The things that you will see
Will open up your eyes
At any given time
On every other street
The city comes to life
Though everyones asleep
A man beats up his wife
He doesnt wanna keep
Behind closed doors
Theyre in retreat
I dont know what makes me stay
The city life just aint the same
Theres something wrong with kids today
I blame the parents anyway
Theres no hope
No one to trust
I cant cope
Its obvious
Please dont take my drugs away
Im gonna give them up someday
There is a place somewhere
That I could call a home
Id live without a care
Id never be alone
One day I will get there
I feel it in my bones
I check upon the scores
I listen to the coors
Behind closed doors
Behind closed doors
Behind closed doors
Behind closed doors
They still want more
Behind closed doors
song performed by by New Order
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Throw Them Out
Let their continued deceit...
With their thieving greed,
Go bankrupt.
They've been warned before,
To produce drastic changes...
Or they would experience closed doors.
Let their continued deceit...
With their thieving greed,
Go bankrupt.
What will it take before their faking ends?
No bones have they thrown from their feasting,
Like fat hogs on their private jets...
Flying in to beg politicians in Washington!
How you seen the communities where these big industries are?
Have you observe the suffering
Who are the homeless and can not afford cars?
These fat cats who drink their scotch and smoke big cigars...
Could care less about their own mess they have created.
Or who is left to bare a lifetime of scars!
They profess that millions will lose jobs,
And a way of life if they aren't bailed out!
Those millions are now trapped in debt.
Trying to squeeze payments...
To feed these crooks of twisted mouths!
Let their continued deceit...
With their thieving greed,
Go bankrupt.
They've been warned before,
To produce drastic changes...
Or they would experience closed doors.
Closed them and locked them out!
And let those competent...
Apply those changes.
Leaving those sleaze and greasy beasts,
To earn their keep.
Regardless of who among them pouts!
Throw them out!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Over Indulgence
Whisked away in a summers wind
Flying higher, still higher than any cloud before
Now falling, falling gracefully
Falling in front of Pleasures door
As opened with the gentlest touch
Warm air, sweet and fruitful
Swarms and pulls
It comes and consumes you in a rush
Lush vegetation all around
Fruit rains from trees, bushes, and vines
These who gather are from a licentious dream
Sporting all their goods they could bear
Hauled in by opened grasping hands
Soft as silk, warm as blankets
Inviting were all the gripping bands
They pulled harder and the doors closed
Lost in the amorous world
Dancing, music, laughter in the day
The sharing of bed and body at night
Lost in it all; their, they're Tender Kisses!
'Lost, lost in the deranged world
Time is routine, done by 12
Struck, as with Calypso
Shall seven years be my time'?
Pleasure is pleasure as pleasure be done
Gluttony of pleasure, breaker of chastity
Sinned, loss of purity amongst many
Sinned, of no restraint; release and forgive
'Pleasures door has opened, if by my prayer
Sea salt and cold wind is before me there
Leaping through the door, gaining my last chance ever
I watch the people to envy sleep forever
As Pleasure closes it's door.'
poem by Ryan Collins
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