When the doorbell rings
it can be either day or night,
never coming by a warning.
Each time I turn the knob.
the person that can be one of many,
a constant unpredictable parade in appearances
offering a panoply of possibilities,
between the salesman peddling miracles,
to the spiritual teachers selling hope,
and then the bureaucratic bearers of angst
who want to warn of termites and cancer risks.
They all disrupt my oasis
forcing alterations,
my garment of expectations
always tailored without my permission.
Posting no trespassing signs does no good,
for they never fear my threats.
I plot and plan ways to discourage
these intrusions into my serenity,
but they all fail and I have embraced
that the entrance to my life
is always opened.
Subduing the times my brain
feels the spiders of worry
crawling through my thoughts
over whether the next visit
will bring grief or smiles.
Sitting in my easy chair
surrounded by the clutter
gained during each encounter,
which becomes different
nearly every day,
watching cable for tips on salesmen defense,
along with the best solutions
on how to hide from next visit.
Author notes
The Consistency of Change
Change,
it never sleeps,
I can always feel it around me,
as a slight, elusive pressure;
a passive anxiety. It's the cause and effect
of every moment,
the harbinger
of tragedy and triumph,
the fiber
of every nightmare and every dream,
a sentinel
over the evolution of our fate...
and we are merely
reactive servants
tempering innate reflexes
with the conscience of mankind
and morality of faiths.
- JM Kenyon
A contest entry
- The Consistency of Change by JM Kenyon.
600 points, ended August 15, 2008, 10 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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I've known such intense anxiety in my lifetime that I holed myself up for years trying to avoid unpleasant changes and I missed so many pleasant ones in the process
. Not that I care for salesmen coming to my door or want unpleasant changes to come knocking, not that I would buy into anything just because it did and subscribe to agonizing over choices and chances... Still, I get the urge to hide from change, even though I know it will do no good. I guess, it's to catch my breath before being sucked into the funnel, brace myself for whatever is coming my way when I come out of hiding... but at least, if it is a change for the better, I come out and don't miss out on the experience. Of course, chances might be still be missed...
Great write.
s and best wishes always... ~genie~
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I simply love the ending stanza in this poem. The imagery, once again, is perfectally created. Good luck in the contest.
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This goes to the quick. Pluck the salesmen, pentcostal leaving salvations hope in handouts. Smiles for the Mormon and defense for the steak salesmen to hussle the last of the days product. Nuclear disrupters have not been invented to vaporize them on the doormat. You have covered the prompt and offered more than expected. The flow is smooth and quick to move the work forward as the intensity increase with the pressure to buy, list or rent as vacation time share.
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