Poem About Locked Doors

I climbed on the sill and descended outside.

Poem about locked doors.

But the knock came again. My window was wide. So you run like a spark of evilthe world like a snakemy eyes cry. And i though of the door with no lock to lock.

And brushed with buttons upon sleeves the flowers were out there with the thieves. Poem by robert frost. With an iron door that can t be opened. Some say the angels lock it from the outside.

It has all your bad dreams in it. But that key is what lies in your hands. Locked doors poem by joseph narusiewicz. Locked rusted doors fill the soul with dread fading in the distance of an endless hall onward ever onward into eternal dark resisting their pull not heeding their call knowing behind one flickers life s spark from so many doors it s impossible to choose when endlessly new ones materialize anew open the wrong one and there is much to loose.

So at a knock i emptied my cage to hide in the world. A blue locked door. Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. The time i dreamed the door was tried.

But at last came a knock and i thought of the door. Some say the devil locks the door. Some say the devil locks the door. The people inside have no water.

As told to a child. And cut them off from window light. Do not now seek the answers which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. It has all your bad dreams in it.

However there is a locked room up there. The key that opens to what lies behind. You become a house where the wind blows straight through because no one bothers the crack in the window or lock on the door and you re the house where people come and go as they please because you re simply too unimpressed to care. My window was wide.

Back over the sill i bade a come in to whatever the knock at the door may have been. With no lock to lock. When we locked up the house at night we always locked the flowers outside. The people inside have no water.

I blew out the light i tip toed the floor and raised both hands in prayer to the door. With an iron door that can t be opened. But the knock came again. I blew out the light i tip toed the floor and raised both hands.

Life s true potential is a locked door. In prayer to the door.