Skip to main content

Door poems: Escape is through the eyes by Mariah Pompa



The side of the gym,
Ancient yet the outside was brand new,

Deceptive as always,
As most schools do,

My number always got a puddle when it rained,
Uneven black top never paid for,

But even the new white walls have cracks,

Branching out along the surface making me want to trace it with my fingers,

Part of me wants to follow it with a pen or a paint brush,

Opening others  eyes to my mind,

I saw the curve of the splintered cracks and though of an arch way,
a door way to some other world,

It was made of mahogany but was frozen,
Forever open just a crack,

Just enough to see the world beyond,
But not be part of it,

Daydreaming away until a whistle startles it,

Ruining colors,

Fantastic sights just beyond the door frame,

I'm left standing there on an uneven number,

The world goes dull and grey.















Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

short fable series: Petereleon by Mariah Pompa

Oh little me I seem to have grown, Growling under tables, I am now throwing my self in to fables, Bleeding so many words instead of reading them, Chicken scratch has morphed into Times New Roman, Clean cut documents are beyond the graphite stained pages, My old self isn't quite so grown though, I still growl under my breath and my fingers are still dirty, Imagination still dominates my thoughts from 7:45 to 12:30, They're quicker, All consuming, leaving me frazzled, There's no hope to contain them I just gotta get them all out, I try different styles and rhymes but still find a simple kind are best, So yeah little me I've branched out quite a bit, No longer bound to just the tall grass I've suddenly  grown wings, Not a griffin or eagle I seem to have grown into something else in between, Something ferocious, curious, and playful, Maybe not a sphinx whispering riddles, Dark mane with tanned wings, A creature longing for some kind ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Door Poems: Getting there by Mariah Pompa

Just reach for it, You've worked for this, Dressed up for this, filled out enough damned paper work for this, The cool metal slips through your sweaty fingers, A quick swipe on your pant leg saves face, The handle clicks against the ring on your finger, You may have a heart attack before you know,  Your chest aches at that thought, Adjusting the knot in your tie, Lighten the load, Take the handle, its time to go.
Post a Comment
Read more

Morbid poetry part 2: The Pack by mariah pompa

Poetry 3 2017 Mariah Pompa 4/28/17                                                                        The Pack The trees tremble, Branches creak, A thunderous sound, Bloodied feet, The resounding pulse, All of one mind, Snow stained red, Sharp teeth shine, The air won’t hold, Always gasping for breath, Jaws ache, Fingers claw, Remains of the kill,   Bloody maws, Howling with pride, The pack runs on,    Man and beast collide.
Post a Comment
Read more