Sarah Pesta


Life Of Doors


I don't remember having a dream
Where making choices could wake me up

My shaking hand slowly reaches out to the silver knob
The other is clutching my horrified heart

I can't tell what's on the other side of the door
But I am willing to keep going on

The door slowly opens and I can see a light
An empty forest with the sun glowing on a golden harp

A beautiful harp such as this glows in a warm light
I walk up to it and seen its pure form

Though I never played a harp before
Strumming the highest string sounded like a harmony

Something inside me told me that life will be full of doors
Each of them containing something that we may not have seen before

Submitted: Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Edited: Thursday, May 29, 2014

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Life Of Doors by Sarah Pesta )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. It's Over, Melissa K Vigna
  2. The Rider, Melissa K Vigna
  3. Party, Melissa K Vigna
  4. Wonderland, Melissa K Vigna
  5. Paranoid, Melissa K Vigna
  6. The Devil, Melissa K Vigna
  7. Groupies, Melissa K Vigna
  8. Skeleton, Melissa K Vigna
  9. Music, Melissa K Vigna
  10. Festival, Melissa K Vigna

Poem of the Day

poet Pablo Neruda

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]