Tag Archives: poertry

Unlocking poetry

23 May

Beyond the Door

Go and open the door.
Maybe there’s a hungry animal
Or a lost child
Crying for his mother.

Go and open the door.
You may have turned back time,
You may have gone into the future.

Go and open the door.
There may be
Dreams waiting to be dreamed
Or stars waiting to be born.

Go and open the door.
You might find memories
That you’ve tried to forget.
You might find
Your childhood.

Go and open the door.
You might stumble upon a secret place
Where everyone is welcome
And no one is turned away.

Go and open the door.
Even if you find subconscious and conscious
Walking hand in hand.
Even if you become
Lonely in this nightmare.
Even if what you find
Is hell come alive.
And even if you
See nothing,
Hear nothing,
Feel nothing

Go and open the door.


Interesting poem right? I read it and was intrigued by it.

Especially since it was written by 15-year-old me.

I was going through some old papers this weekend at my parents’ house. We’re cleaning out stuff in preparation of their move, and me and my siblings each got a huge stack of old pictures and papers. There were a bunch of school pictures and report cards. (“A” honor roll every year, thank you very much.) Results from aptitude tests. (99th percentile for quantitative reasoning, I’ll have you know.) Letter from my brother when I was 10 and he was at college. (He doesn’t want clothes for his birthday.)

But I found a whole bunch of stuff from a creative writing course I did in 1986 which was probably 8th or 9th grade. Reading them in hindsight, I realize that I might have been pretty good. And I had a creative bent in writing at that age. I know that my lack of self-confidence at the time prevented me from pursuing anything like that. But I also wonder why I wasn’t encouraged. I mean, maybe I wasn’t as good as other people; some people I went to high school with are making their livings by writing. But I think I maybe had some talent, and I wish I had pursued it.

It does explain the writing inclination I have now. I had been wondering where it came from, and now I realized that it didn’t come from anywhere – I just rediscovered it and listened to it this time. It kinda makes me want to take a poetry class now and explore this.

Here’s another one:

I hear voices praying to God to save us.
To save us from other people, other things and
From our own fears that we try to hide
In back rooms and in back minds.

We are servants to those fears.
They will build up
Underneath your hope and
Strengthen themselves.

Those fears gather secretly and will
Eventually attack your hope
From behind. Hope will fight as best as it can,
But it’ll do no good.

Hope will lose, and your fears will conquer –
For a while. But your fears will have left
A tiny bit of hope by mistake.
And then your fears will learn:

Fear might win, but if a small bit of hope is left,
Hope will win. Because that bit of hope will grow
And grow and grow until fear is gone.
Because fear’s Waterloo is in your mind.

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