Timber slatted,
flaking paintwork,
round-arched frame in high brick wall.
Clicking latch-key,
creaking hinges,
rusting bolt that slowly draws.
Secret door to unknown garden,
opening to another world,
entrance to a different lifetime,
exit gate from yours.
After I'd written this, Pat posted a wonderful picture of a gate on her blog - you can see it, along with a whole range of other lovely pictures and writing at Past Imperfect
9 comments:
Lovely!
The last time I was in Fremington I took a shot of just such a door/gate. I longed to go through to the other side.
I'm going to see if I can find it.
would it be possible to quote your poem?
Thanks Pat - there's something so intriguing about a closed gate - I think it may be a legacy of my childhood and The Secret Garden book. I'd love to hear more about your door/gate in Fremington.
And of course you could quote the poem - I'm very flattered that you'd even want to.
That's just amazing Sharon, every line has it's own sound. Brilliant.
Thank you Sharon. I hope the photo lives up to your poem.
Oh, I really do love this!
"exit gate from yours." - that is my favorite line; so many possibilities in that.
That's really beautiful. I was thinking of The Secret Garden and Tom's Midnight Garden when I re-read it.
http://thexistentialist-existentialthoughts.blogspot.com/
such visceral writing I love it
In regards to you wanting to be a writer. You're writing now. And you write well. I read some of your stories and poetry. I see a sense of depth and spirituality. Of course, that's my opinion.
I've been complimented about my song writing over the years. But I'm not a famous songwriter. I still believe that I will someday. My point....dreams keeps use going. Those deep passions that we have in life, is a part of our soul. If you haven't pursued the author dream yet, it's never too late. Go for it!
Post a Comment