In response to dVerse Poets Pub call for poetry submissions to their 2026 Anthology: Krisis: Poetry at the Crossroads
Her door is always swinging
a chaotic rhythm only she can hear
No rhyme or cadence evident
except in her own ear
She cares not who might come through
not who that malicious door might harm
If she takes a dislike to me or you
she’ll slam it shut with a straight forearm
Whether a weekday or weekend
doesn’t make any sense at all
That such a beauty chooses this
before all is her love for alcohol
One too many times that evil door
has hit me square upon my face
Though I’ll love her for all days
no more can I run her loosing race
I stood beyond that destructive door
now hanging by hinges bent and doomed
Walked away with a heavy heart
from the child birthed from my womb
Gypsie’s Wonderful World of Words 
Leave a comment