When one door closes another opens : not for too long.
I walked a street
And clicked a door
A door :ajar, half -open,
It stood there,
And looked at me
Smiled and said-
“Step in,
Peek around..”


It wasn’t a pleasant looking door,
Its corners crumbling,
Chest heaving,
Old wood, too much rain!
I stopped for a while. Pondered at the invite
“What will this provide?”
Hmph, he said,
With that it sensed my despise..and slammed shut its divide.


I walked away,
Met another one,
This time it was a bleeding blue door.
I didn’t ponder
Several doors passed,
Each saw me pass.
None called onto me twice,
Some laughed at me.
A pink one cursed me. An oldie kicked,
A palace door beckoned me with bribe
The antique door hypnotized
But I waited.
I reached a passing train
And saw yet another opening,
It called onto me.
The Traveler’s Door,
I sighed,
It had no eyes, no smell, no colour, no race,
A door – a traveler’s memoir,
A moving machine carried it afar.
Off I sped,
Jumped, Yelled and Crawled,
And hopped onto its crevice.
Now seated in between its iron rods,
I find
My door, my right – no colour, no disguise.















My door, my right – no colour, no disguise.
**
loved the concept on this one…. loved the minimal editing on the shots… seriously nice stuff… 🙂