Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2011


by Michele Pithey

She opened the door,
she did it herself.
She knows what she did.
Fair’s fair,
she was there.
Perched in anticipation,
immobilised by expectation,
she looked up and down,
but never around,
just in case she saw,
the open door.
The door she’d opened.
The door in her mind.
When she glanced behind,
the door was there.
Slammed shut.
Like a big BUT.
But she knew.
The door she saw
was open, wide open
in the recesses of her mind.
So she sat.
And sang.
A sweet little song.
As she searched for the key
she knew she would find.
The key that was hidden
in the depths of her mind.
As she spread her wings
and felt the fright take flight,
she opened the door,
the door in her mind
and she flew effortlessly
out on the wings of no doubt.

Added: 09.01.2011

Judges' comments on this poem


a bit too literal, lack of figurative language and regular rhythm makes it sound distinctly unpoetic.