Life pushed her out unprepared,
The other side greener, she pictured,
Scented roses with no thorns, they grew,
Beautiful blue roof, falling chandeliers, bright halogen, perfect crew,
Arched colors, adorned.
To the garden she owned, blinded,
Bent on getting to the other side, gulled,
Evicted, thought she a chance to start anew,
Burnt bridges, the other side life, a few,
Never to return, behind closed doors she was trapped.
This poem can mend a cracked floor
open wounds, find love through the backdoor.
Sometimes it feeds me with a cupcake
while I craft an origami by the lake
but – it cannot fix the broken handle by the door.
There are days it leads me to a bookstore
then rub my belly something I can’t ignore.
It is not god enough to give and take.
because common kulikuli’ it cannot make.
Only to form it has body that fit to be a Corp.
The broken door handle opens everything.
It’s locked,but it still lets a closed door swing.
We’ve tried to separate the handle from the door
But it keeps stamping his feet heavily on the floor,
Nagging about the last time he had himself a fling.
The first door handle we knew was everything
With just one touch,she would make your hands cling.
But she woke up one day, and then she decided
The attention she expected was clearly now divided,
That’s how she started letting in almost anything.
Her lover was adorned clumsy
His thoughts and actions always messy
The universe enjoyed taunting him
Serving him grim,
Aiding his path clumsy
Her lover, a magnet of ill luck
Slipped a foot in the bathtub, struck,
He nagged in pain
Yelling for help again
Yet, help was hindered by the broken door handle, bad luck.
Stuck on this side of this ruined wall
It took only a slip to this fatal fall.
I claw and claw, I’m alone
I call and call, my voice is long gone.
This, certainly, wraps it all.
No need to call
This handless door will always stand tall
Like the Kilimanjaro covering the sun
There’s always another way but here is none
A door with a broken handle must be better no door st all
Walk past the moon.
Clashes of petals and balloon.
A handle to a Limerick.
Knock on the door Kendrick.
Fallen hinges, opened too soon.
Farther than far.
Apart, far off the radar.
Closely opened when viewed from afar.
A broken door was an eyesore
With glasses shredded on my fore
The handle gave in too simple
The thought of him caused a dimple
But his life was a bore
Now I live in a city called Tore
It bought my Gold and cursed a cure
A social handle gave a wrinkle
With obvious lines and broken sprinkle
A passage and a living door
The middle is now the top of the end.
So close to the handle no matter the bend.
Broken, lost her hat(heart)
Fit,lost all fat.
Can your thought handle how this would end?
This piece is your friend,
Except you make amend
You can’t pet and sleep with it like a cat
Rather hate and get it poisoned like rat
But before the love and hate ,remember it is a friend.
There was a door that had no handle
People had to stand and shove at an angle
With their butt they shoved until they got a pore
But that didn’t stop the race to the door
This is the story of the door with the broken handle
But this day a nun became the anvil
She wouldn’t let her butt be the handle
She’s been taught to keep her body pure
So the keepers made her be at the door
That solved the problem of the broken handle
A little force, and a fuss!
The hook came down like a rolling bus.
Unhinged in my hands, idle it laid.
Imprinting a dull cold that stayed.
What shall I do about it thus?
I sat and thought. Had a little discuss,
Myself and I, just the two of us.
The keys in my pocket swayed,
The sound mockingly delayed.
I could have got it handled, with no fuss.