Sitting in my apartment, hearing the sounds in the hall.
Solid doors that quiet no sound in the hall.
Most of all they don’t quite their slamming.
The door closes on its own, the door is sucked shut with a solid boom.
Far down the hall the one that yells and tells on all whose doors slam.
I can hear his door slam too and hear him blaming others.
The boozer and thief, whose door slams. He can barely stand, see, think let alone stop a door slamming.
I hope one day to hear the door slamming him in the butt, he wouldn’t feel it.
Up and down the hall the doors slam.
Hard to think and focus with boom after boom all day long.
Then there is the whistler who can’t whistle. It sounds more like fingernails down the chalkboard.
There is no tune just screeching loud and painful. He knows for people have told him.
Someday I hope to hear his door slam in his face and stop his whistling.
More slams up and down the hall. Doors slammed by people too caught up in their own heads, to even think about the door and its boom.
The one just down the hall, who looks for any fight for any reason. Looking for any excuse to hurt someone. He should pick a fight with the door and share the pain.
I’m now in the hall, looking one way then the other. Seeing who is in the hall and if they will dare to slam a door when someone is looking.
BOOM! Goes the door. I look toward one end of the hall then the other. Too see who slammed the door…..
Realizing it was me. OOPS, my bad.
I go back into my apartment quietly closing the door.
Poem by: Charles Lanning. 07-25-2018
Charles Lanning comes from Omaha Nebraska. He as a BS degree in Psychology. He has worked in jobs assisting the mentally disabled and the elderly. Also worked as a building janitor. Also assisted tourist by telling them where to go, politely.
Other then poems published in High school or College publication. This is his first poems submitted for publication .
His poetry is inspired by life and what happens around him.
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