There is an old Irish tradition that says as the new year arrives, you open your back door to let out the old year and open the front door to let in the new. Doors symbolize entrances and exits. Write an ”open door” poem, or a ”closed door” poem. Either way, Happy New Year to all and here’s hoping 2022 is an improvement!
MARIES ENTRANCE:
May God open doors meant for me, close those not, and lock my steps with His. © Marie Elena Good, 2022 #seventeenintwentytwo
WALTS EXIT:
REMEMBER remember all doors are trap doors, and our fires should be barely more than sticks. We must remember remembering is always futuristic. ~from “Post-Apocalyptic” by Stacia M. Fleegal All doors are trap doors. Some lead to destinations, others to other trap doors. A mind’s cavernous hollow lets you follow where knowledge and memory lead. Knowing bears a confidence to pursue. Memory plays in a constant loop revisiting that which we have left behind or forgotten. Yet, ignoring the past becomes a destiny to repeat it; a step forward from where recollection is buried. Step away from the past, remembering is always futuristic. (C) Walter J. Wojtanik
POETIC BLOOMINGS 
Responses
Well happy new year to you two!!! Striking poems Walt and Marie. 👌🎉🎊🎉
Happy New Year, and thank you!
Happy NEw Year to everyone and Marie your poem is small but powerful and Walt… WOW
I second that.
Thank you, Bill!
Thank you, Mary! Happy New Year!
IT AIN’T OPTIONAL
The year 2022 wasn’t an optional door.
None of them are—as the years go by.
Year after year, door after door.
One opens, then another one closes.
One opens, then another one closes.
Apparently, an endless loop of doorframes.
What’s behind them? Nobody really knows.
Until they step forth and enter—
The realm of unknown possibilities.
A realm of seeming chance and uncertainty.
But one thing is always a certainty.
Time and tide, wait for no man.
Benjamin Thomas
I admire the sound-play in this piece.
Thx
simple truths are often difficult to write but you do with smooth class
Thanks 😊
I like the imagery of the endless loop of doorframes.
Thanks!
I agree with the comments of others here, Benjamin. Well done, and much to ponder here.
I love where you went with this piece, Benjamin! Another message, saying we must go to it and through it. A great use of the prompt!
Thanks Janet! We can all relate to this one. 😊
Love “endless loop of door frames”.
Thanks Sara. Life definitely seems like and endless loop of doors. 😂
I KNOW THAT DOOR
Sometimes it seems the days
are a revolving door.
Weee! Are we coming or going??
Is someone pushing me?
I don’t know but…
Round and round we go!
At a dizzying pace at odds
for the natural human mind.
Always on the—go, go, go!
Always constant movement.
Suppose life is truly a connected
kinetic chain of events?
One by one, setting off a ruthless
inevitable, chain reaction.
Is it a revolving door?
Or a merry-go-round?
Benjamin Thomas
Hard to tell, sometimes. Love this.+
you described my life as a caseworker on a good day…and Love it
👌
I also wrote about a revolving door. I like your correlation to a kinetic chain of events.
😊
I thought of writing about a revolving door as well, but could not come up with anything of consequence. Nice work.
Love the merry-go-round analogy! With life, it helps when we can enjoy the ride as we recognize the cycles it takes! Well done, Benjamin!
Thank you 😊
PORTAL
An open door
admits the world without ado;
an open door
can be a threshold to the floor
where love can flourish, fresh and new,
if hate can also exit through
an open door.
Wisely mixed and said, with just a hint of wry
It might’ve been unintended, but I got a feeling of “comin’ through the wry” in that comment.
I agree with Daniel
Yes. Clear out the temple of my soul oh Lord.
Wonderful! Love it. 👏
Amen, amen, amen. Well-worded wisdom.
Well done, William. Yes, a great reminder that we can choose what comes in and goes out. Also, what’s been closed has the possibility to open again!
Sage thoughts, William!
Almost Open Door
It’s Sunday morning again, once more,
time to open my spiritual center door,
no longer driving to a physical space,
making it work at home, my perfect place.
Struggle and strife are left at the door,
I’m centered in peace and love and much more,
choosing my service with each little tap,
finding wisdom and joy with my pad on my lap.
I do miss the feelings the sanctuary brings,
the smiles, the hugs, the community things,
but until the world heals at some future date,
it will be my home where I pray and meditate.
The pacing and sounds of this piece invite contemplation and contentment.
lovely
Feeling your blessing to our individual bittersweet adjustments. Thanks for sharing.
Daniel, virtual is good but oh I miss the assembly of ourselves together when we cannot gather. Keep your heart watered best you can.
Very sweet, Daniel!
Keith and I are still at home as well. There are many things we miss about gathering, and there are many things we appreciate about being home. We all need to make those decisions for ourselves, in prayer and listening for God’s guidance. Who would have thought we’d still be in this predicament this far out?
I sure do appreciate the calm and kind thoughts in your piece. Begged a second read.
Love this, Daniel! Finding peace where we reside, means it never has to hide! It is always good, when we can bring it home! Very well said!
This gave me a wonderful sense of peace. Thanks, Daniel.
anno Domini nostri Jesu Christi, 2022
In the year of our Lord, Jesus the Christ, 2022
Fling wide the gate! Release the padlock!
“Behold, I stand at the door and knock”
How oft to our era His voice says anew?
Two thousand times and twenty-two!
anno Domini, this fresh new year’s word
from Domini nostri Jesu Christi is heard,
“I am the gate!”; His voice calls to His sheep.
“I am the door!” awakes us from sleep.
Fling wide your gate! Begin the unlocking!
Run to the door; answer His knocking!
Fall to your knees, cast-off aged scrapheap
embrace Him, He lays down His life for His sheep.
there is joy in this poem… I like it
Powerful, meaningful, and eternal. Well penned.
Yes, I can feel the exuberant joy!!
Wonderful. This almost seemed like a play.
My brother! I’ve missed you! Both in person, and out here. 🙂 Kevin, this is so well penned and FULL of the joy of the Lord. Yes, answer His knock! WONDERFUL. Thank you!!
[…] Poetic Bloomings Prompt #367 – Old or New challenges to write an “open door” poem or a “closed door” poem. […]
An Open door…
Has since I was small
Meant an adventure to be had…
And as I moved in a serpentine
Rambling to chase that butterfly
Or climb a tree to touch the wind…
I found my ordinary adventures,
And told stories involving
Starfish and fairy kingdoms
Where I rode on dragonflies.
Even now as I have slowed down,
I know outside my door
Are adventures to be found
Hidden within the forest in which I live,
Or behind the door
Sitting at my computer
Telling stories to places
I have not been…
Adventures are there to be had…
You just have to take that step
And believe they will be there waiting…
When you open that door.
Mary Elizabeth Todd
January 2, 2022
A writing mantra for us all, Mary. Thank you.
thank you and it is my mantra for my life
This makes me smile, Mary. An attitude and outlook to embrace.
thank you so much… and you know it has gotten me thru tough times..
Absolutely. ❤
Smiling through as I read this.
I am glad to give a smile…
I love this and, in particular, your last four lines! So important to remember, Mary. Thank you for that reminder! 🙂 Well done!
An enchanting, lovely poem, Mary!
A room of locked doors
And a ring with many keys
Dear God, make my choice
thank you Earl I need a prayer like this
Oh Earl…the keys jangle on my ring too. Loved this.
Great visual. 👌
Yes. YES, YES, YES. So much wisdom and recognition in so few words.
Wonderful poems Marie and Walt. Inwant to step forward into His will, no matter what might be beyond the door. Happy-at-least-Meaningful-at most New Year to us all.
Thank you, Damon. I couldn’t agree more with your wish. God’s will; God’s way. ❤
Knocking
“Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened. Matthew 7:7-8
I’m knocking on Your door
sounding like a woodpecker
on a shaggy cedar tree,
trusting You will give me my heart’s desire—
what You want for me.
Thank You for open doors
and closed ones,
though I may not like them at the time.
Beautiful. 👏
Connie, you and I were on the same page. Love your “sounding like a woodpecker on a shaggy cedar tree.” Goodness, yes. Me too. But we are His children, and I’m sure our clumsy ways are embraced all the same. ❤
So well put, Connie! Loved the images and the truth here. We might not always like those closed doors at the time! 🙂
Lovely poem, Connie!
Another Chance
The sun shines as the new year
opens its door to me.
The fresh fall glistens
while a life well-lived
rests under six inches of snow.
The touch of cold invigorates
as I awaken from my dreams
to live and live again.
In the morning
I step out the back door
to recycle something old
and make room for the new.
A resolution stirs my mind-
given another chance
and a promises
to live a better life
while
a set of footsteps
in the snow
leads to places unknown.
Lovely.
Thanks to everyone for their comments.
Mike: I absolutely love this, in its entirety. But my goodness that final stanza is a stand-alone poem packed with meaning, beauty, and intrigue. WONDERFUL.
Thank you, Marie.
Breath-taking
Thank you.
So enjoyed this poem, Mike, especially your last few lines! Yes, new footsteps to places unknown . . . perfect!
Most mysterious, Mike! I like this.
HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL! Enjoyed both poems today, Walt and Marie. Great use of the prompt and showing the different directions to go with this week’s idea! Beautifully timed prompt, by the way!
SWINGING THROUGH
As a kid
we had a door
that could swing back and forth
from the dining room
to the kitchen
easy to maneuver
with things in your arms
meant for one side
or the other
we all used it going back and forth
after the nicer meals
in the dining room
with company
especially the grandparents
as I grew older
my father and I used to do the dishes
and while we did
he would confide in me
things about his life
on one memorable night
he was sharing his philosophy
on marriage
telling me what works
and doesn’t work
suddenly that door flew open
making us both jump
my mother heard us talking
making her disapproval known
bright red face
the color of her hair
strong tones in her voice
feeling as if Dad was spilling
very personal things to me
about their life together
reassuring her
that was not the case
she calmed down
pushing back through that door
Dad and I didn’t move
until that door stopped swinging
hoping silently
we wouldn’t see it open like that
with her in full rage
again
(c) Janet Rice Carnahan 2022
Oh, wow. Janet, what a memory this is. I feel the push and pull of sentiment here. This obviously spoke to you, and has stayed close to your mind and heart. Excellently presented. God bless you, poet friend!
Wow. So vivid, it might as well be a movie.
Thank you for stopping by! It did stay in my memory and I can still see that swinging door. It was quite a moment!
Best to wait until the swinging stops!
A Year Swept Away
Closed doors and closed rooms
are best swept out with brooms
to dismantle cobwebs, dust,
and any troubled spirits who must
move on from the trappings of this life.
So open those doors, let in the light.
Breathe in fresh air–Winter or not–to
clear out last year’s dark black blot.
Well done, Sara! 👏
Thanks, Benjamin!
You went with the Irish tradition Walt brought up. Well penned, as always! Happy New Year, Sara!
Thanks, Marie. May yours be healthy and happy.
This reminds me of a seder I attended once; seemed like there was an open door as part of that, too.
Yes, that’s true. Tradition is that, at this time, we expect the Prophet Elijah to arrive, and the person who opens the door is supposed to welcome him with the Hebrew words “baruch haba.” Elijah is poured a cup of wine. My grandfather always told us to watch the amount of wine go down as Elijah takes a sip.
Love that last stanza.
THE RABBIT HOLE
The mind can have many
trap doors.
That slide down a long, long shaft,
into oblivion.
Where light escapes upward,
as thoughts cascade—
Downward.
Where sight of reality is
absent.
There—the darkness overtakes
every sensibility.
Until you lose—the capability,
to discern between the two.
Until there is no difference,
between it—and you.
A place where light cannot
penetrate.
Any longer.
Or reach.
Deep.
Down,
the rabbit
hole.
© Benjamin Thomas
I think we can all relate to this. This, my favorite portion:
“Where light escapes upward,
as thoughts cascade—
Downward.
Where sight of reality is
absent.”
Agreed
👍
Thanks. 😀
Agree with Marie’s choice!
OPEN MINDED
I am of the age
where knocks at the door did not
need to be scheduled.
This was a time when
hospitality welcomed
spontaneity.
A time when one was
made to feel valuable –
greeted with a smile
and a hand gesture
first ushering you in, then
offering a seat.
I wish I could say
that is a custom I still
embrace. But it’s not.
Feeling unprepared
makes me uneasy, and it
seeps right through my smile.
I hope to become
genuinely embracing
of a friendly knock –
to swing wide the door –
no thought of untidiness;
no eye on the time.
© Marie Elena Good, 2022
Your elegant home has always been the exemplification of “welcoming” to me, and you, like the Clinquant Mr Roakre, are the consummate host. I feel I could forgo the perfunctory “knocking” at your door, and walk right in, make a cup of tea, and flop on your love-seat, like family.
You just put a smile on my face that will likely stay all day. I’m SOOOOOOOO glad you feel that way! And … you ARE family. ❤
RATS! I hit the wrong “reply” link. mea culpa. Sorry for the tangled thread.
😀 !
For me, this is an excellent encapsulation of what the covid business has wrought. I’ve read this several times. Thanks for posting.
Thank you, Bill. I have to say though that I can’t blame Covid. This is me, but not who I want to be.
Wonderful! You’re on a roll.
Times are not as welcoming as they once were. Good one, Marie!
Hopefully that dam “smile” (pun intended) will hold-back your “unprepared feeling, from “seeping right through”. We love the Goods!
And we love the Puffers!
Oh, and I meant to tell you, I once met Ricardo Montalban (sp?), and got his autograph. I was in high school, and met him when I was in the hall between classes. He asked me directions to the auditorium, and then asked if I wanted his autograph. I had zero clue who he was at that time, but got it anyway. When I showed it to my mom, she definitely knew who he was. 😀 I no longer have it, which is kind of a bummer.
Which Door
You open the door
to sub-zero ice and snow
but there’s a porch to sweep
and the outdoor cat’s bed
to shake out de-ice the tarp
bring in the empty food-bowl
where kibble disappears
sometime between nine
and eleven p.m.
paw prints leading into
the kitty cube baited with treats
but where he’s yet to stay
overnight although the door’s always open
he seems to fear a trap
that would take away
his freedom
grassy stubble making it
surrounding the porch
making it hard to track his comings
his goings
impossible to decipher
into which barn he might’ve spent
the night perhaps warmed
beneath the breath of horses
wooly coats of sheep and goats
or tumbled between paint cans
and car parts in the abandoned shed
one farm over
this marmalade cat mysterious
as Eliot’s Macavity a free spirit
wild feral pure citrus
tangy and brave owned by none
and every night deciding
which door is which.
So touching, this.
sigh … your way with words …
I can completely envision this, feel the feelings, and admire how this is strung together. The ending, in particular, I can’t imagine better. Wow.
Totally visualized being on a farm somewhere.
Nice one, Pat!
This may not fit but this is how I became a better friend…
It’s too late to say happy birthday…
Do you remember when we were small?
I got you into trouble all the time.
My best childhood friend,
Until you weren’t…
You were a princess
And always beautiful,
And my braids were more often undone
Than not, we were so different,
But you didn’t mind.
You married early,
And was heartbroken…
Left with two children to raise.
I heard you did what
Women sometimes do
To survive,
And where was I…
Off at college shooting pool.
But every Christmas got a card,
And sometimes I wrote back
To wish you happy birthday…
Many times, I did not.
You wrote me letters
About your schooling
To be a nurse…
You worked hard to get there.
I told you I was proud of you…
And I didn’t tell you
I wasn’t a very good friend.
The Christmas I didn’t get a card.
I knew you were gone…
You would never forget me
Even if I had forgot you.
I found the news
That you had died.
Your two boys by your side.
I felt the guilt and made a promise…
I won’t forget another friend.
I looked at the calendar this morning,
And saw it was your birthday.
I wondered if I could send you my love,
And wish you happy birthday,
Just to tell you that I was wrong
Ever forgetting you
For I did love you,
And still have the picture
You gave to me
When you were homecoming queen,
And I was lost somewhere
Just trying to find myself.
Mary Elizabeth Todd
January 3, 2022
Oh, Mary … this touches me deeply. I have been this person who has not been a good friend. I hear you. Your story resonates. It is well told, as always.
Thank you and it is a regret… she was a good person.
Very touching Mary. There’s always that person that never forgets us. We have that too in our family. They never forget a year, birthday, or holiday, and yet, we so easily forget them.
thank you and sometimes I think we forget them because they are so constant… what fickle creatures we humans are.
SWEET CHAMBER MUSIC
I know not the iron door I’ve entered,
it closed with solemnity and a click.
I suppose my wits may have surrendered,
unless I prevaricate mighty quick.
‘Twas love’s gravitas through an open door.
The strain against gravity much too fierce.
The pull of moonlight’s tide against the shore—
an open heart, nay a shadow, was pierced.
But the great aspect of love is a vault;
once its grand chamber is closed once for all,
reverberant echoes they doth exalt,
hearts telltale music—as vines do they sprawl.
For the heart is not made for one, but two.
Their strings now—pleasantly attuned anew.
Benjamin Thomas
What a lovely sonnet. You should write more of these, Benjamin.
Thanks! It was tough to write. *whew* 😯
I hear ya! I love the form, and enjoy writing them sooooooo much … but only when I have the time and head space. 😉
Gorgeous sonnet, Benjamin!
Thanks! Tough to write. ❤️
AN OPEN DOOR
The human eye can be an open door.
It admits light like an open window
ready for things to be perceived as reality.
Many objects enter in through the door—
far into the realm of the mind,
making its mark unto the scrolls
of one’s memory.
Benjamin Thomas
THE KING’S DOOR
The king was drunk on the day of the queen’s
arrival from foreign lands. Her flaming
hair was the splendid taste of fine cuisine,
the epiphany of red wine’s taming.
Her flowing flocks of red spiced wine was fire.
Laced with emeralds, rubies, finest gold—
The richest heir with eyes of pure sapphire.
Seeing her majesty, his heart was sold.
Yet, she was not one to suffer a fool.
A court jester who dressed like one’s king.
He thought of her as the greatest jewel,
chancing favor, still her heart did not sing.
Tearing her dress as she left the king’s door.
But seeing her leave—his heart tore even more.
Benjamin Thomas
A couple of swell sonnets here. They are tough for me, so i appreciate both of these all the more. I tend to like the Petrarchan form a bit better, but they are still hard to write.For me anyway. Well done.
THE DOOR I CLOSED
Once there was a time for openness
and naïveté.
There was no need to ponder
the unexpected.
Once there was a time for warmth,
simple congeniality.
There was no need for self defense,
sleeping with one eye open.
There was a time when a friend,
was truly a friend.
There was a time when a Good Samaritan,
was a Good Samaritan.
There was a time when a neighbor,
was a neighbor.
There was a time when a sheep,
was still just a sheep.
There was a time when people
were, who they said they were.
There was a time for simple trust—
but I closed that door a long time ago…
With locks and bolts.
Benjamin Thomas
Wow. This sounds like a bill of particulars for an indictment. Powerful.
“remembering is always futuristic” – Love that, Walt!