The Door (From the 2004 webarchive)

By SilentStalker


He stared at the door
The old, dusty, oaken door
With drawings of the five year old
Of stick figures and bent houses
Strewn along the wooden surface
And memories of the ten year old
Of his first loss at the baseball game
As the crestfallen child came home
And punched the door
Leaving a red mark on the grain
From the wound he made
As a reward for his ignorance
And fondness from the man
The man he is today
As he recollects the fancy drawings
And marks and memories
Of this immortal record of his life
As he opens the door
He enters his house to greet his family
After a memorable hard day's work
One more mark on the door

Unauthorized Copying Is Prohibited. Ask the author first.
Copyright 2003 SilentStalker
Published on Saturday, December 12, 2009.     Filed under: "Reflective" and "Poetry"

Author's Note:

Just found this again and decided to restore it back to the profile. Wrote it in a Creative Writing class, and it's been a while since I've looked at it since I took it down for whatever reason I did.
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Comments on "The Door (From the 2004 webarchive)"

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  • A former member wrote: The stress of life never fades. It just redirects.

  • Shortnlethal On Saturday, May 8, 2010, Shortnlethal (65)By person wrote:

    Lovely poem you depict feelings well ^^

  • A former member wrote: So worth you reposting! Thanks for diggin it up for our viewing pleasure. Stop hiding... you are missed! =)

  • Dilated View On Monday, December 28, 2009, Dilated View (583)By person wrote:

    Seems like kind of a hopeful cycle. The act itself might initially have been ignorant but it's now a constant reminder of comings and goings and of growing. Hmm thanks for dusting this one off it was enjoyed.

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