The Open Door..
One late Summer afternoon in June
After a gentle rain came dancing by
I sat real still high on a hill
On a rock beneath the sky…
The road i came still smelt of rain
it’s rocks drying one by one
But, I felt at home,not all alone
with the rock the sky and sun.
The day was cool,it warmed my soul
as i whispered into the summer breeze
“If it’s no bother,a daughter to Father
talk is what I’d like Lord,if you please”..
‘Twas then i must of fell asleep
for my heart it seemed to stop
as i flew just like the Eagles do
Looking down upon the old rocks top..
I heard a silent voice that seemed
to be telling me to see
for years of long His voice was strong
talking constantly to me..
i excused it as a thought and not
God taking to me ( I couldn’t see)
that yes for sure,that opened door
was never closed to me.
I heard a voice that said quite clear
“listen for a door to open silently
and let be heard as a silent word”
child you’ll know it’s me”
then i awoke and a fog like smoke
seemed to stand right where i stood
and I heard the sound of a door
Open like He said it would.
I realized I need not pray
For He knew about me inside out
And I was safe in His grace
for that I had no doubt.
Since that day i must say
I wonder how He knew that I
surly would know if I could
what it feels like to fly.
and true to His word I have heard
him chatting all the time
Silently, words just for me
& I find them in my mind..
The door that opened never closed
and He promised me quite faithfully
that Father to daughter, i need not bother
to listen for His door to close on me…
After a gentle rain came dancing by
I sat real still high on a hill
On a rock beneath the sky…
The road i came still smelt of rain
it’s rocks drying one by one
But, I felt at home,not all alone
with the rock the sky and sun.
The day was cool,it warmed my soul
as i whispered into the summer breeze
“If it’s no bother,a daughter to Father
talk is what I’d like Lord,if you please”..
‘Twas then i must of fell asleep
for my heart it seemed to stop
as i flew just like the Eagles do
Looking down upon the old rocks top..
I heard a silent voice that seemed
to be telling me to see
for years of long His voice was strong
talking constantly to me..
i excused it as a thought and not
God taking to me ( I couldn’t see)
that yes for sure,that opened door
was never closed to me.
I heard a voice that said quite clear
“listen for a door to open silently
and let be heard as a silent word”
child you’ll know it’s me”
then i awoke and a fog like smoke
seemed to stand right where i stood
and I heard the sound of a door
Open like He said it would.
I realized I need not pray
For He knew about me inside out
And I was safe in His grace
for that I had no doubt.
Since that day i must say
I wonder how He knew that I
surly would know if I could
what it feels like to fly.
and true to His word I have heard
him chatting all the time
Silently, words just for me
& I find them in my mind..
The door that opened never closed
and He promised me quite faithfully
that Father to daughter, i need not bother
to listen for His door to close on me…
PICTURE A POEM 
I just read Open Door. You are so talented. I wish I could make my own animated clipart. I am doing powerpoint to donate to the building fund at my church. I have my poems, but I have to go to the cliparts to see what I need. Pray that this will help our church. We live in a little village in the Lowcountry of South Carolina.
Edna,
Feel free to copy and paste any of my work to your poetry…my blog “Let’s picture Ohio” has a larger variety and of course theres my flicker pics….I don’t mind at all.
Sorry my comment is so late, i didn’t have internet for awhile. Have it now thanks to my Daughter…
Love this poem Connie,it is just like you,open and out there.
Ah, I see.
Then suggestions from me,
I gather not to be
considered with-all necessary
to furtherance of clarity-
-as such aims simply aren’t one’s predilective brew-pot of tea? ; )
I understand what you mean about the ‘purist’ approach to a sort of ‘fractal geometry’ favoring spontaneously generated sounding-off over a more vividly visual, express precision.
Naturally, I done many similar works of the kind, and several I consider to be perfect ‘gems in the rough’ as well. I do on the other hand believe that the good Lourde does very much appreciate and desire that we should ‘finish’ what we either start or ‘discover’ in all the raw and ‘ready-made’ of the world. & so being a visual artist in a highly visually-oriented world, that is what my personal inclinations embrace most often with a ‘view’ toward refined offerings sharing precision of vision.
If you are content with this, Connie, then I should not have poured-forth above if I was given to understand your set and long-time stayed approach, and that you’ve no interest in broadening/honing/applying skillfulness toward this horizon. & of course, I’ll leave you to it then.
However, I don’t consciously represent or advocate any particular ‘school’ of thought or genera in poetry. I simply prefer what is most accessible where considerations of delivering not only message but insuring that the experience I choose share may be ‘stepped into’ as through that open door–already vividly descript and delineated in ‘high-def’ technicolor, shall we say?
i.e. I often want my readers to be able to see what I see from my perspective–through my eyes even, as it were. & a certain amount of vagueness may lead the horse of one’s own mind to a different pool in the like-wise neighborhood, granted–but not necessarily to where the writer really is, if you follow my ‘illustrious’ track to that nexus where all paths converge?
But of course what we prefer to do along these lines really depends upon weather we’re out to celebrate our solitude and preserve that feeling and actual personally individualized sanctuary in the work, or our aim is to facilitate the experience of solidarity of most literal communion possible through the work.
As ever, those choices are our freedom, to what ever degree of skill we elect to develop and exercise (& obviously, given the natural talent).
Thanks for your time and attention.
Be well : fare well.
Sincerely,
~ James C.
Jim,
teachers have played a huge part of my adventures in poetry and lyrics over the years. 1st was when -as a child we moved from a public school to Fort Knox Ky..( Army school) the army school was 2 years ahead of the public school. I had totally missed poetry but the teacher found i could write it. and so began the classes in public speeking at a young age & of course speech class because i talked much like a hillbilly from Ohio..
Later in life a teacher i did not know,came to me in 1977 and asked if He could teach me to write lyrics.. Which he did.
He told me not to go back to school and learn how o write a poem because it would mess me all up..
The line your speaking of was because i wanted to make a rhyme..2 times in the line..I’m speaking of a road i had just went down..that i had been waking in rain and it still smelt of rain.
When a poem like this one comes to me, i usually write it down without thought..because it comes so fast i have no time to think about what i’m saying..then i seldom change anything because it never sounds right if i cange it..
the poems that have been published in the past was “fixed” by the Editor , by fixed i meen spelling and commas etc..
Oh, boy.
Looks like I got the typist’s ‘dropsy’ again here today!
I cruise along a decent typing pace myself, usually-
-then I keep finding in review that little words like, ‘I’, ‘a’, ‘the’, ‘and’ are mysteriously missing. Frustrating and more than a little embarrassing atimes. Guess–must–be that frustrated poet, again working away, anyway, notwithstanding me? [chuckle ;]
Hello again, Connie!
I do have a few suggestions, which I expect I’ll be able to make some time this month. I personally prefer to help other artists hone their skills rather than revising works much. I suppose it’s the teacher in me, I’ve found it all the more rewarding as a matter of fact to offer insight and tips of technique–then later seeing if what ever potential of any given work I thought understood the artist’s intent of actually transforms in the direction I felt it was meant to go. It’s always a pleasure to me to help others find their own way to the clarification of their sketched-out vision(s).
So of course, it is your work and so shall & should it remain as far as I’m concerned and interested, thank you for your enthusiastic offer, though.
But we can also make this process a nice leisurely step-by-step stroll, apropos to the piece, if you like! ; )
For starters,
I have a question, as well as a simple suggestion–which might not apply if my assumptions are off track…
re: “The road i came still smelt of rain”
-is this line meant to force the meter?
If so, I suggest either “This road i came, still smelt of rain”
or “By road i came, still smelt of rain,
it’s rocks [sunning?] one by one”
Gotta say though, I’m impressed with your cleverness of subtle suggestion this second time ’round reading.
I’ll await your next journeywoman’s re-creational reply, apace.
Enjoy.
p.s.
& do call me Jim, Connie.
I see no need for showman like pretense of any internet mystique for my part. ; )
Glad you found this poem lordcaldwell…I’ve always been someone who truly enjoys co-writing with others. Especially with Lyrics. If you agree the orriginal stays mine and your finished work becomes ours..i invite you to co-write with me on this poem..i’m excited to see what this poems whispers to you.
Hello again Connetta,
this prior commenter has just reminded me of one of William Blake’s adages from his own book of “Proverbs…”:
“Progress makes straight roads,
yet winding are the paths of genius.”
& so speaking of progressive straightening?
I like this imagery of this imaginative draft of yours, and am wondering aloud here, when it was written.
& also if you might be interested in some ‘professorly’ feed-back vis-a-vie finishing it in greater traditional fashion?
Do let me know.
I’m interested, and did appreciate your having drawn attention to my web log as well. Thanks again.
~ James Catte
In poetic enough answer to Blake’s brilliant observation,
mixed with yours though my scholarly metaphor likewise is:
“Though the quenching of thirsts ought and must flow enough freely, these vessels of such refreshments by which we make the best keeping, are somewhat more solid as of necessity most often need be.”
Oh, don’t mind me,
when it becomes second-nature then
next thing you know it’s just too temptingly easy
to turn anything or everything to poetry-
-much to the chagrin of the poor old ordinary modern world.
Ah, what was it you were saying about telling winter itself to simply go away? ; )
ttyl?
there is something special about a highway, road, trail, or path with many bends, there is something exciting around each bend.
these pages are kind of like each bend – you are very creative!
thanks for dropping by with your kind words.