Behind the Red Door (a poem – revisit)

by Stephen J Frankenberry

This is from last year at Mother’s Day and a response now to a dVerse poets prompt about writing something of a building.

The link explains the prompt.

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May 29, 2023

On my way into work early last week, driving my usual route, a few backroads through some pretty suburbia (one of the reasons I take this way) I noticed this one house, like really noticed it for the first time though I pass it every day. It has a striking red front door, how it hadn’t caught my eye before I couldn’t tell you but, no matter, it did on this morning.

I think it did because recently I went to visit Mom in her assisted living facility for Mother’s Day and something about this red door seemed vaguely familiar, like maybe when I was kid we lived in a house behind a red door or maybe it was a red house?

So, this then is for Mom, who lives behind her red door in a different sort of house now, two of them.

Love ya Ma

–

Behind The Red Door

It fronts a house

Once center

Village open welcome

But

Floating hazy now outskirts

As doors don’t float but do

Lost in trees tall tangle roots shoots forest grasping edge of the old gathering square

Where voices were there

Their

Songs sung in unison

Once

They did declare!

High up into the air!

—

It’s a house with a red door

Please knock to tell something

Sell something

Even

Needed in

Village’s

Villager’s stories

All shared

But

Through bay whispy window tissue thin doilied curtains now floating like ghosts gently pushed aside

(mind you move away ghosts!)

To glance out

Please knock to sell me something

Tell me something

Are you the paperboy?

Do you have the news?

Have you heard of Linda?

I worry

—

It was a house with a red door

Open

Of many room’s 

Thoughts

Lived

Loved

Shared

Grand Castle with Nobles and Ladies

Knees bent

For wisdom’s grace

I have words

Had words

Want words

Can you hear them through whispy bay floating window tissue curtains now?

Through whispier lips?  

Behind the red door

Kind ghosts

But ghosts still

Oh, go away ghosts, shoo!!

—

Are you the paperboy?

Have you some news?

—

It’s a house with a red door

Flashing in

Out planes

Existence moving on wheels

Now

Through tangled grasping forest root shoots long hallways

Of village

New sort

To sort through and around in time lost

Trapped

Behind the red door

And …

So many different other colored doors

So many different castles

So many doors

—

It’s a house with a red door

Closed

No, ajar instead

Instead

Maybe can you see

Me

In

Through

Whispy bay floating window tissue curtains like ghosts?

Oh, go away ghosts, shoo!!

Please!!

—

Are you the paperboy?

Do you have some news?

Maybe of Linda?

I worry

11 thoughts on “Behind the Red Door (a poem – revisit)”

  1. Thank you for sharing this poignant poem, Stephen, which reminded me of visiting my own mother when her dementia got worse and she went into a home. I like the link between the red doors, as explained in your notes. The repetition of ‘Are you the paperboy? Have you some news?’ is very effective, as that’s what happens to old people – they repeat themselves. I also like the atmosphere created in the lines:

    ‘Through bay wispy window tissue thin doilied curtains now floating like ghosts gently pushed aside’

    and

    ‘Can you hear them through wispy bay floating window tissue curtains now?
    Through wispier lips?’

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  2. I like your red door! There was once a New England style white house around the corner with a red door. Good repetition “Are you the paperboy? Do you have some news?” And yes, doors don’t float, but do.

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  4. The red door symbolizes the possibility of poignant loss, effected and transpired through the agencies of alien people who don’t care for us. These alien strangers are often in command of $MONEY$ and view ordinary emotional relationships as signs of weakness, disrepair, bad fate. It is the nature of alien people to band together with other alien people to form an oppressor’s coalition that digs at you, and digs at you, until it forces you to comply. Only then will you realize you weren’t free.

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  5. I love this! Doors that don’t float but do is such a wonderful line, but I also like the constancy of paradox doors shut – no ajar, and the ever present red door – an invitation.

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