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OpenDoor Magazine A FREE monthly digital magazine for poets, authors, songwriters, artists and readers to share their words, find open mic events, and more!

Created by:
Melanie @ Facebook.com/GirlOnTheEdge90

Kassie @ Facebook.com/KassieJRunyan

https://shoutout.wix.com/so/40OtWY6bW?languageTag=en
25/02/2024

https://shoutout.wix.com/so/40OtWY6bW?languageTag=en

Step into the depths of our labyrinthine theme for the forthcoming spring quarterly issue. We beckon you to navigate the twists and turns of creativity, where every path leads to a unique expression. In this intricate maze of ideas and emotions, we invite submissions of labyrinthine works—be it po...

BEAUTIFUL WINTER SCENEMark HudsonUnited StatesOn the day after my birthday,the sky was cold and gray.Cold enough for win...
24/02/2024

BEAUTIFUL WINTER SCENE
Mark Hudson
United States

On the day after my birthday,
the sky was cold and gray.
Cold enough for winter clothes,
but we haven’t yet had much snow.

I looked outside my window,
and noticed people below.
A scene like Norman Rockwell,
a vision so pleasant for me to tell.

On the ground as I looked down,
was a mother and child on the ground.
The child himself was rather young,
young enough to think it was fun.

The mother was showing him love,
by bending down and putting on gloves.
On tiny little hands, very small,
the mother bent down; she was tall.

She kneeled on the sidewalk,
to put on gloves and I would gawk.
Seeing this precious moment of living,
reminded me of upcoming Thanksgiving.

To me, this scene brought me joy,
this mother caring for this little boy.
Was I once like this kid before?
My mother is not on Earth no more.

I live on my own, perhaps it is best,
I’m too old to create a new nest.
But I’m in love with the human race,
everybody out there has a face.

Is it too late to stop all the hate?
Can love return to all who wait?
Now is the time to create a new fate.

THE NIGHT I MET CHUCK MOULTONStephen BarileFresno, California, United States “A grizzly bear with bad teeth who rode a m...
24/02/2024

THE NIGHT I MET CHUCK MOULTON
Stephen Barile
Fresno, California, United States

“A grizzly bear with bad teeth who rode a motorcycle.”
~Jon Veinberg

Well after dark, the sky was brighter
Against the shadows in the woods.

We stood around staring into the fire,
Drinking beer from aluminum cans

Dave kept cool in the creek nearby.
We took turns walking down there,

Retrieving a couple of cold ones.
Dave wanted to see if Chuck, the poet,

His friend from the Tower District
Was camping up here, near the road.

We walked in a mysterious night.
The mountain stars lit our path

In the Ponderosa and Cedar forest
Fixed and motionless in the dark.

We passed the first of flat ground,
A stand of trees, a water spigot,

And a Forest Service outhouse.
We walked downhill on the dirt road

Near the fringe of a meadow of sedges.
The second flat, and burnt-earth area

Where migrating Indigenous people
Had campfires over the centuries

Traversing the Sierra to trade.
Near the horse corral, and third flat,

In the dark background of trees,
A Promethean bonfire lit the blackness.

A holy fire, purifying and wrathful.
A pile of wood to feed the craving.

The silhouette of a European motorcycle,
Somebody was leaning against it.

As we got closer, Dave yelled out.
Chuck jumped up and acknowledged us.

His loud, low, and menacing gruff voice.
Great big, with a long bushy moustache,

Coke-bottle glasses mirrored the flames
While he drank whiskey from a metal cup.

His motorcycle reflected the flames
From the chrome exhaust-pipe.

Three of us stood before his campfire,
When he was the first to speak:

“Hell is full of fire,” he said,
As if he had firsthand familiarity.

“In Dante’s Inferno, Hell is icy cold,
Saved for the worst sinners.”

We declined several offers to share
The whiskey he called “hooch.”

And he told us firefighting stories,
Of great conflagration in the woods.

Heroic struggles to fight flames
With a chain-saw, shovel and Pulaski.

“Indigenous people used wildland fire,
Naturally caused or otherwise,

To encourage growth in oak trees,
To increase their food supply of acorns.”

GONE MISSINGCarl “Papa” PalmerWashington, United Stateshttps://www.facebook.com/carlpapa.palmer.1As the new day awaits i...
24/02/2024

GONE MISSING
Carl “Papa” Palmer
Washington, United States
https://www.facebook.com/carlpapa.palmer.1

As the new day awaits its morning sun,
the blank page for my poem also waits.

In stillness I listen for an inner voice,
only to hear a deep silence in my soul.

Ends end from where beginnings begin,
but before I can end it I have to begin it.

All I need is that one elusive key word
to massage this pain of self-made hell,

this page containing only a promise of
what may be worthy to be called poetry.

As the sun sets, my page and I sit,
still waiting for what’s gone missing.

FROSTNeal WhitmanCalifornia, United States tucked under a quiltby firelight we take turnsreciting R. Frost
24/02/2024

FROST
Neal Whitman
California, United States

tucked under a quilt
by firelight we take turns
reciting R. Frost

THE COMING OF WINTERChristian WardLondon, United KingdomWhen the sky turnsthe colour of glowing coals,the leaves are cov...
24/02/2024

THE COMING OF WINTER
Christian Ward
London, United Kingdom

When the sky turns
the colour of glowing coals,
the leaves are cover models
showing off shades of pomegranate,
beetroot, pumpkin and terracotta,
and everything is planning
on emerging as a spring postcard,
this is not the time to be a blank page.
Embrace the silence of frost,
the language of snow. Make every
wintery landscape your play.
Be the flame in the hearth. Let all
embrace the warmth as the light dims
and the days shrink and shrink and shrink.

SNOWSCAPEAdrienne StevensonOttawa, Canadahttps://twitter.com/ajs4thttps://adriennestevenson.ca/https://www.facebook.com/...
24/02/2024

SNOWSCAPE
Adrienne Stevenson
Ottawa, Canada
https://twitter.com/ajs4t
https://adriennestevenson.ca/
https://www.facebook.com/adriennestevensonwriter/

mercury hovers around freezing point
days grow shorter as the sun recedes

in undecided winter light
mist can’t make up its mind

to be snow or rain, frost or dew
chill wind whips, mist coalesces

snowflakes the size of locusts
blaze out of the streetlight

cloud around cars and trucks
like swarms of angry bees

alight softly like fireflies, sparkle
as they touch the frozen road

long, longer dark blue shadows stretch
across golden fields of snow

closer, dimples and pocks
make tiny moguls for elfin skiers

delicate ice devils dance wildly
on greying road surface—hell is cold indeed

human cocoons huddled in firelight
await a signal to release emergent souls

—it won’t arrive for many months

FROST & FIRELIGHTMaria Thérèse WilliamsUnited Kingdomhttps://www.facebook.com/RoamingReflectionshttps://www.instagram.co...
24/02/2024

FROST & FIRELIGHT
Maria Thérèse Williams
United Kingdom
https://www.facebook.com/RoamingReflections
https://www.instagram.com/roaming_reflections
https://www.youtube.com/MariaGrooves

I bask in the hug of my woolen blanket
And absorb the glow from the firelight
The crispness of the frost awakens my thoughts
And the warmth from the flames help them thaw

The trees, unclothed, seem to gather around
They feel no shame to be bare in front of me
They seem to breathe in the warmth of the flames
Whilst reserving judgement on my thoughts

The flames dance as if hypnotherapy
And the frost near their feet melts away
Sparks from the fire join the stars in the sky
And I bask in the beauty of the day.

SUBMISSION DEADLINE EXTENDED TO 2/25! Opendoorpoetrymagazine.com opendoorpoetrymagazine@gmail.comStep into the depths of...
16/02/2024

SUBMISSION DEADLINE EXTENDED TO 2/25! Opendoorpoetrymagazine.com [email protected]

Step into the depths of our labyrinthine theme for the forthcoming spring quarterly issue. We beckon you to navigate the twists and turns of creativity, where every path leads to a unique expression. In this intricate maze of ideas and emotions, we invite submissions of labyrinthine works—be it poetry that winds through the corridors of the mind, short stories that unravel mysteries at every turn, lyrics that dance along the labyrinth's edges, or art that captures the intricate beauty of the journey. Take heed, for we extend the deadline by ten more days, granting you the opportunity to delve deeper into the labyrinth of your imagination and emerge with treasures untold. Submit your works and let your creativity weave its way through the labyrinthine depths of our spring issue.

Head over to our website for our newest issue!
01/02/2024

Head over to our website for our newest issue!

https://shoutout.wix.com/so/95OrYX_uB?languageTag=en
01/02/2024

https://shoutout.wix.com/so/95OrYX_uB?languageTag=en

Welcome to our WINTER ISSUE! Frost & Firelight seamlessly melds two contrasting yet enchanting facets of this season: the invigorating chill of frost, symbolizing cleansing, and the comforting warmth and safety emanating from a crackling fire. Interpretations of the prompt vary widely, spanning from...

LOOK TO THE SKY n. 1To S.Gabriella GarofaloItaly Please act cool, moon, don’t scream blue murder,The first light of the ...
08/04/2023

LOOK TO THE SKY n. 1
To S.
Gabriella Garofalo
Italy

Please act cool, moon, don’t scream blue murder,
The first light of the morning is here,
And warped comms numb days, and diaries-
‘Cause you can’t see her desire in blue
Uncertain whether to lie with fire,
Or a distant laughter in the night,
As the only fire is hailing from candles
And maybe it’s your life to challenge it-
So don’t waste your time, soul,
Just leave, as first light cares for you
Only when you’re gone, you and your rooms,
And never trust heaven’s greed,
This month too warm for winter,
Where the hair is setting ablaze
Limbs in a kiln and time
Anxiously awaits the firing of the clay,
As he’s setting up a personal exhibition:
The impervious black of the earth,
A sand that won’t get involved,
The water of dismay already seared-
Such bloody mess, sure, but don’t kid yourself
You can relight waste, the hoarded dross
Of seasons skies limbs,men who write,
And by a sad alchemy of the years
Even swear they are in love with unsayable shadows,
The unlikely splendour of a start,
Mad air from rejecting windows-
Warped comms again?
Maybe yes if once you hounded the moon, the sky
When they would haunt a spare soul,
But in the end they didn’t choose her,
‘Cause her silent dreams always skip out
After dispersing the undergrowth, the hired storm barriers,
The night standing still at cobalt corners,
And delirious colours shouting ‘no use for you’-
No need for unworthy souls, so they just discarded her.

SEE THROUGH THE SKYEllen Suzanne UrowitzCanadaAre we talking about the sky?I think so but don't ask me why?Simple each t...
08/04/2023

SEE THROUGH THE SKY
Ellen Suzanne Urowitz
Canada

Are we talking about the sky?
I think so but don't ask me why?
Simple each time I
meditate and look up at the bright blue clouds I cry.
Honest what would I gain if I lie?

As I look through the sky. .
I think free artwork.
The only time I have to look each day is
evening just before I cook.

If I don't spend five minutes looking
and helps me relax.
I wouldn't have enough energy to cook
I tried one and I broke an old antique glass.

THE THUNDERSTORMS OF ARLINGTONGary Shulman, MS. Ed.Virginia, United StatesThe thunderstorms of Arlington Envelope me in ...
08/04/2023

THE THUNDERSTORMS OF ARLINGTON
Gary Shulman, MS. Ed.
Virginia, United States
The thunderstorms of Arlington
Envelope me in a soothing blanket of comfort
I am not sure about the reason nor the why
But I am indeed calmed by the tumultuous metamorphosing sky
Bolts of electrons seem to energize my brain
Never forgetting they can so easily bring chaos and pain
Torrents of life-giving rain drumming on my windowpane
In any other situation would certainly drive my OCD insane
So why would a storm so severe calm my senses
Soporifically hypnotize and pacify my defenses
Into the womb I seem to gladly regress
As clouds thickly gray I do love I must confess
Perhaps for just a brief moment, for an instant in time
Mother Nature’s grand majesty becomes supremely sublime
And again, I am reminded of how tiny and small
Humanity is and I profoundly recall
We are merely tenants temporarily on earth
Only here for a moment through hardship and mirth
Not trying to instill fear only trying to share
That these monstrous storms remind us to be aware
Tomorrows never promised and we might not even be here
So, thunder do bellow your basso song
And lightening bolts feel free
To instill fear among the throng
For your anger above reminds earthlings below
To appreciate each moment and make your life-force still glow

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