Photo by Simply HeatherVisit her Blog - http://joyfulbussin.blogspot.com/
And her Photo Blog - http://simplyjoyfulphotos.blogspot.com/
~
Suggested prompt...
~
Write today about a door opening.
Use this idea in any creative way that moves you.
_____________________
My secret place
Nobody but me
Free to dream
Free to just be
The door leads the way
To paths unknown
Step inside now
Before you're too grown.
Mandy
One week after the photo or picture is posted I will pick one offering to put beneath the image. This is a way of celebrating exceptional creativity. Any and all posts are available for your creative mind to make an offering at any time (even ones where a writing has been placed on the front page like this one). If you are new here and want to offer to every image here, feel free. We are writers, WRITE! If this is your exceptional writing posted here on the Front Page Pictures, Poetry & Prose invites you to include the Exceptional Writing Award Button on your blog. Visit the Exceptional Writing Award post for the details and the button to download.
10 comments:
Open, door!
I command you,
Open at my touch!
Show me all the riches
Lying behind you,
Treasures of my soul.
I do not open on command,
Or by threat of force.
I open with the touch of love,
Soft words, gentle perfume.
The beauty of the fastening seldom compensates for closure.
I remember that day the door was closed. It seemed it was closed forever. She had whispered those words to me through the telephone. Those words that burned me through to the core. The words that I didn't think I would ever recover from. Then it seemed that my life was over. The door was closed. Slammed shut tightly, right before my face.
Yet today I feel another door has opened. It breaths fresh air into my soul and I am lifted up with exhilaration like a soft warm breeze blowing in my hair. I am lit up with the natural light from what lies within. Love has returned to me, if through another form. It is different. Yet it is better.
The door is opening and she breaths life into my heart once more. It beats; it pounds. I am revived by it. I now can walk through bravely, for I know this time it will not swing back. It will not slam in my face like it had once before. For this time, she holds it in her hands, beckoning me forward.
So I enter.
who knew a heart could scream so loudly?
creaking like a door
a chest cavity remains unopened,
inside, caged behind flesh and
bone, rib, cage,
a heart is locked away
but was divided
into, in two,
man and woman,
two hearts that beat
for one another
discreetly
behind closed doors
desire
a heart's desire
locked in a chest
desire
microscope specimen
observed through a key hole
by a serpeant
who tests a heart
by tempting it,
(with an apple)
promising it will unlock
the door
because he had the key,
the key to a heart
to open the mind
kick in the door
crack open chest,
wipe your feet
don't make a mess
sit down
make yourself comfortable,
we may be here a while
(or be doomed here)
our paradise lost
and locked away
so thanks,
sit down,
when you leave
(if you leave)
put the key back under the
welcome mat
back where you found it
My secret place
Nobody but me
Free to dream
Free to just be
The door leads the way
To paths unknown
Step inside now
Before you're too grown.
Mandy,
I absolutely love your poem, especially, "step inside now/before you're too grown."
It got crazy and long, so I posted on my blog site. If anyone cares to read, it's there so not officially an entry.. thnx
Thanks Tim! The door photo reminded me of the Chronicles of Narnia movie where the kids stumble upon that door and are led to that other world.
@afart - profound sentence! ;)
I stand at the door, questioning why it is I stand there before it. I know that I came to this place for a reason, but this reason continues to escape the reach of my mind.
I know that where I stand is a doorway, and in front of me is the door. I begin to wonder, what lies behind it? Some supernatural secret, or will it just be an empty room? These questions continuously go through my mind, sometimes asking myself the same ones again and again.
The iron handle is fashioned with several symbols and bolted to the wood, a permanent piece of the gateway. The wood is rotting and the paint that once was new and beautiful has flaked off, now decrepit. I grab the knocker and pound a few times softly...no response. I pound again, more forcefully this time; but there is still no response from within.
I reach out with my trembling fingers for the handle, it's cold and turns with difficulty, but finally gives, the rusted joints rubbing against each other; my heart beats ever faster as the ancient hinges creak slowly, like the beastly sound of some creature thought up by a classical people and the door opens,. The light streams out from the room. When I peek inside, something once lost meets my eye, and I smile.
Post a Comment