You entered
without knocking,
blew in with a
summer breeze and stayed
until the draughts
of winter penetrated every
gap you left open.
You kept your foot in
while you called Door to door
leaving your calling card
to all those who were ajar.
But
I Hung
in there,
listening for
the latch that got stuck
when you banged it shut.
Rusty hinges may creak
but love is the oil
that will loosen it,
next time
ring the bell.
In a list
A contest entry
- in the dialect of doors by Nicolette.
1050 points, ended August 27, 2008, 28 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 9 of 9
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OUCH!!!
This is quite a straight-forward arrow...
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I liked the contrasts of winter and summer, of cold and warmth in the first stanza and the way it moves until the delightful twist at the end. Well-said! I think many can identify with these callers and doors. Enjoyed reading this... thank you for your entry.
~ Nicolette
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And if next time they ring the bell...pretend you're not home! Pam
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Well written
HAh, next time tell him to keep his hind parts at home.
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You write as if you have known this type of door far too often
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I like it
sweet peom.I liked the love portrayed in this one.You can tell it was done with a warm heart.keep writing.
Donutninja -
hahaha, love this. delightful feel of love atthe door. very nice.
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cool. didnt much understand it but cool.
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Excellent Poem
Hi this is really cool,i liked it!Good words from the poet,keep it up!Lisa k haslett raytown missouri!
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