Poem About Locked Doors

Some say the angels lock it from the outside.

Poem about locked doors.

Do not now seek the answers which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. With an iron door that can t be opened. But that key is what lies in your hands. My window was wide.

The key that opens to what lies behind. And i though of the door with no lock to lock. But the knock came again. However there is a locked room up there.

Some say the devil locks the door. Some say the angels lock it from the outside. As told to a child. But the knock came again.

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. However there is a locked room up there. It has all your bad dreams in it.

Unable to be opened without a key. My window was wide. Life s true potential is a locked door. I climbed on the sill and descended outside.

A blue locked door. It has all your bad dreams in it. The people inside have no water. But at last came a knock and i thought of the door.

The people inside have no water. 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. So at a knock i emptied my cage to hide in the world. With an iron door that can t be opened.

Locked doors poem by joseph narusiewicz. So you run like a spark of evilthe world like a snakemy eyes cry. 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. I blew out the light i tip toed the floor and raised both hands in prayer to the door.

When we locked up the house at night we always locked the flowers 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. Some say the devil locks the door. In prayer to the door.

Poem by robert frost. The time i dreamed the door was tried.