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Doors like books
by Paganini Jones"A book is like a door. It opens in the same way, but through it you escape into another world"
Michael Rosen on the BBC, quoted from memory
Opening the wardrobe
in a strange house:
Fir trees
coated in snow?
or just
rattling coat hangers
and dusty clothes?
Nipping out to the fridge
between one programme
and the next:
elephants
searching for butter?
or just
leftover lettuce
and cans of cold beer?
Waiting for the elevator:
as the doors
pneumatically open:
a body, disarray, blood?
or just
men in suits
and deep conversation?
A white cob cottage
on the edge of the moor,
bright with new paint:
a wild dog
big as a horse?
or just
food for the weekend
and a list of events?
After dark
on a winter evening
the doorbell rings:
a man dressed in black
demanding refuge
at the point of a gun?
or just
a neighbour
complaining about the fence?
In the night
padding to the bathroom:
ghosts and boggarts
inhabiting corners?
or just
cold linoleum
and the seat left up again?
In the library:
adventures and learning?
or just
books? 02/10/2009 Posted on 02/10/2009
Copyright © 2024 Paganini Jones
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 02/10/09 at 11:09 PM I really like your approach in this one. The style lends itself really well to the tone. |
| Posted by Jo Halliday on 05/01/09 at 01:23 AM A range of worlds to choose from and to be chosen for: interesting theme. And what a last stanza! |
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