Behind Closed Doors
Streets of small houses shut out all but dim bulbs
behind blinds
Every night flickering screens seen to pattern thin curtains
with wavering luminous lines.
What lives, loves and hates erupt behind doors
of sanitised wood
Are they using dull evenings for talking, weeping, maybe
in laughter,
or weaving more fanciful dreams understood
to be acceptable scenes of hidden
domestic bliss .
More likely is seems, barring adventures for girls and boys,
who, bowed down over table,
vying with family noise,
scratch sweaty answers, but miss out on lost
childhood foibles.
Upstairs, preening, are sisters who dream of soon leaving
to tan in the sun before,
their young life done, they re-style into wives,
cleaning the house
the same as their Mums, taking life uncomplainingly,
but aching with unfulfilled hopes
Their unthinking men, choking on smoke, drinking
and mating
with lads at the Pub., closing their doors to any
warm love as they stumble back home,
and fumbling in bed, begin the whole sad saga again.
Closed doors of habit won't move unless
they are given a shove.
Such a thoughtful verse with truth woven between and in the lines where joy seems to be hid away in some dark place. Dorothy A Poet Who Loves To Sing
I agree with Queen M; this is a very modern poem that articulates very modern problems.
You have taken a walk through closed doors - you dazzle me with your words once again Fay, especially the closing lines - much needs a shove these days.
Beautiful modern day prose...A feast to my eyes dear Fay
I can there is a lot of thought gone into this write and sadly, it contains a lot of truth. It's frightening to think of the way things are turning out in this green and not so pleasant land of ours.
Wonderful imagery here and a wonderful storyline. Sets the mind working on the scenes depicted. Great poem and a pleasure to find, I love stories of everyday life.
excellent write Fay...draws the reader further into it with each line
A stark but excellent write Fay....full of truth....the closing lines are brilliant and very apt " Closed doors of habit won't move unless they are given a shove"
old habits like old names are hard to shed..this poem is so real and so much life ....it touches the heart of a man ...a father and a reader .....