Poem About Locked Doors

Some say the devil locks the door.

Poem about locked doors.

But at last came a knock and i thought of the door. The key that opens to what lies behind. When we locked up the house at night we always locked the flowers outside. Some say the angels lock it from the outside.

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. My window was wide. I climbed on the sill and descended outside. But the knock came again.

Some say the devil locks the door. So you run like a spark of evilthe world like a snakemy eyes cry. Some say the angels lock it from the outside. Poem by robert frost.

I blew out the light i tip toed the floor and raised both hands. My window was wide. But that key is what lies in your hands. It has all your bad dreams in it.

As told to a child. With an iron door that can t be opened. 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. The people inside have no water.

It has all your bad dreams in it. With no lock to lock. However there is a locked room up there. 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. Life s true potential is a locked door. However there is a locked room up there. Back over the sill i bade a come in to whatever the knock at the door may have been.

Unable to be opened without a key. So at a knock i emptied my cage to hide in the world. 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. Locked doors poem by joseph narusiewicz.

And i though of the door with no lock to lock. The time i dreamed the door was tried. With an iron door that can t be opened. And brushed with buttons upon sleeves the flowers were out there with the thieves.

I blew out the light i tip toed the floor and raised both hands in prayer to the door. A blue locked door.