A doorknob is an extremely useful device attached to doors that helps us open them. Life could be extremely difficult without doorknobs. I believe smashing down every door you came to could become tiring.
ode to the infamous doorknob, oh how I’ve set my hands on to you more than my girlfriend and anyone else. she will be jealous, because you just make everything so easy. your easy doorknob.
I Knew That Immediately
Because He Was There,
And I’d Already Accepted the Fact
That He’s Never Coming Back.
I Ran to Him,
Yearning For His Touch,
Not Caring That He Wasn’t Real,
Just Wanting So Desperately to Touch His Skin,
No Matter How Unreal.
I Was Merely Inches From Him
When a Door Between Us
Slammed
Blocking Me From Him.
I Hammered on the Door,
But it Would Not Budge.
I Knew What Was Going to Happen
Before I Even Touched the Doorknob.
It Was Locked.
the doorknob was hanging from the ceiling and nothing really made much sense to her anymore. All she wanted was to fall asleep and escape into her dreams, the way she used to escape into her stories.
She walked into the room, turning the gold doorknob behind her.
“What are you doing here?” He yelled at her. “I came to get my things.” She replied, calmly. She almost made him feel bad for yelling, but he didn’t care. “Get. Out.” He hissed through his teeth.
It wasn’t so much that he didn’t want to visit his grandma it was more that he seemed to envision so many obstacles between him and opening the door that was now five short metres away. He pictured himself falling flat on his face as he tried to walk across, and the doorknob sliding uselessly through his hands as he tried to enter.
The doorknob turned to dust in my hand as i attempted to open the door. The screaming still persisted, chilling my bone to the core. If only I could just get behind the door, then i could save the person and stop the horrible screams. But it was too late; the screaming had already stopped.
There was a door I couldn’t help but want to go through. But the doorknob was heated. I’m not quite sure why. But it terrified me. I never went through that door.
I am holding the doorknob sweating with anxiety, anxiety of what may occur if I ever turn it, if I decide to move my hand clockwise and proceed enter your home. Will you be there sitting in your chair comme d’habitude? Will you pin me down and demand answers, answers to questions I will never understand? Perhaps you fancied going out to dinner with your concubine and I got here just in the nick of time. Oh please please please I beg of you, don’t be there, don’t sit in that rouge velvet chair by the window holding the newspaper in one hand and a frying pan in the other waiting to cook my heart for dinner; don’t be there waiting to plunge the proverbial knife hiding beneath your tongue as you write my name in the obituary with the blood spilling from my nonexistent heart. I promise I’ll be quick, it’s only that notebook hiding beneath the mattress, that is all I require.
Slowly the knob moved clockwise my hand’s grip was weak with perspiration, deep sighs and a quick heartbeat ensued as the light of the back window shined upon my eye. I peeked inside and…
She turned the doorknob slowly, scared of what she’d find inside. The brass was cold in her hand, but turned easily. It was as she feared, the inside was covered in paint.
I remember doorknobs when I was little. They were always very difficult to keep quiet when creeping around the house, and it was a precise action to turn them just so with a steady hand to keep them from rattling around.
Doorknobs are pretty interesting if you think about it. They open doors. Now, not many people will find that interesting but if you think about it in a deeper level, it means so much more, it opens opportunities, and can open you up to things in life. Its such a simple thing but has a huge concept behind it. I never thought of that until now.
I grasped the doorknob. It was firm and vaguely slippery beneath my hand. My heart was beating in my throat as I tried to turn it, the knob slipping a little in its setting. As I pushed open, the door, I wasn’t sure what I’d see. Would he be there? Would he be gone?
A doorknob helps open a door. What will the door lead to? What will the doorknob make the door lead to? Who knows. Maybe the destination on the other side of the door is up to the type of door knob. Perhaps doorknobs have feelings like the one from Alice in Wonderland. That seems rather amazing. What if that was true. What if the doorknob was what made up the alternate place. Things would be so different. We would all be so spontaneous. We would all be so scared.
I opened the door with my hand grasped to the doorknob, wondering if i should go in or not. This could change everything. Anything could happen. What if i’m disappointed? what if it’s not what I expect? How could I deal with the fact of being with him forever. Could i really ever be happy? He’s so bland, i want excitement!
I’m just a doorknob on the door.
Lonely, forgotten, abandoned.
Used only when needed, I lead a wretched life.
Spoilt, I get thrown away; just like dust in the wind.
There are no doorknobs on the inside of my restroom doors. It’s so irritating because when I shower I have to close the door to my room instead of the restroom. Not that I’m complaining, it’s quite a nice restroom. Best I’ve ever had.
I often get static shocks when it comes to doorknobs. So from now on, I’ll use rubber gloves when I’m cleaning up a murder scene. Yeah, I just killed my wife. Damn that bitch.
they are on doors and are used to grabs to open and close doors. they are usually round and made out of metal. they are situated right in the middle of the door. they are normally very germy considering a lot of people touch them.
The golden doorknob shined in the sunlight. It was so hard to believe that it was time to go. Moving is such a hard thing to do. Especially in the manner that I was leaving. Heartbreaking, really. All that was left in the room was this shiny golden doorknob. The only reminder of what used to be.
doorknobs are silly because you should just have to push a door open, you know? like what if i’m carrying some heavy-ass shit that requires all of my bicep strength? but what if someone walks in on me taking a wizz. i guess doorknobs are clever after all :/ i’ll never question what ‘is’ again.
She could feel all the litres of blood rush around through her veins seeming to try escape from her very body. Now was hardly the time for the “flight” instinct to kick in, she had to be quiet, she had to be brave, and as she reached her shaking hand toward the doorknob she knew she couldn’t erase what she was about to see…
I had a doorknob once and it was old and brass and worn. The paint had rubbed off where hands held it, turned it. Abused it. Sometimes I would have prefered a knocker. No doorknob on the outside.
The last time I worried about which doorknob to open, it was when I was all by myself. I have this awful all-consuming anxiety towards running into strange men and every time I’m by myself and have to enter a room I cannot see the contents of, I panic. I can’t help the way I feel. Passing strangers on the road, in the elevator, in my neighborhood… Why can even turning just a doorknob scare me?
When I think of doorknobs I think of interesting textures, varying shapes and the passage to a grand adventure or a boring room. Doorknobs an be quite amazing and full of history. Some have been around for centuries. These doorknobs have been handled by many people and “seen” the world evolve rapidly. I’m glad I’m not a doorknob! I really don’t want to be slammed when someone gets mad or replaced when someone decides that I just don’t belong anymore. doorknobs are important, but I do believe they are not respected …
what a fascinating device. it turns, it opens. it really works! not merely these things of importance, but it’s symbolic. care to understand, then grab, and turn. go ahead. it’s chock-full of germs man. but that’s what a doorknob is, it’s risk.
THe doorknob is bright blue on the large wooden door. I take the cold, round knob in my hand and turn it. The door opens to a massive bright orange room.
One of the things I think about when I remember my time living in Germany and in most of the countries I visited in Europe is their doorknobs are different. In the US they’re actual knobs but over there they were more like levers more often than not and as such they were easier to open with an elbow when my arms were full. I always preferred their door opening devices to our knobs.
honestly i did not know what that word was at first. However doorknobs are interesting. the other day i was at a store (prob home depot) and i noticed that there are so many different types of doorknobs. I like the crystal ones. For some reason my time restarted. i do not exactly know what i am doing, but i find it fun! so now i am gonna chill out. when i first read the word i thought it said dookrnop? maybe i am dyslexic.
I turned the doorknob as slowly as I could, seeing as I heard muffled sobs coming from inside Harry’s room and I didn’t want to barge in loudly. But after seeing him sitting on the bed with a razor in his hand, I quickened my pace and sped over to him, grabbing the razor out of his hand and looking at the damage he had done. He finally regained his senses and hung his head low, ashamed that I had caught him cutting himself. I ran my thumb up his inner thigh, wiping away the blood that was trickling down in a steady stream. After wiping my hands on the bed sheets, I brushed my fingers over the scars on his legs. “Harry…why are you doing this?” I asked. His curly locks moved back and forth as he shook his head, unable to come up with an audible response. “Harry…” I said. He stayed still. “Harry look at me” I ordered. He slowly raised his head to gaze into my eyes. I put a hand on his cheek. “Harry promise me you won’t do this anymore” I said. He dropped his head again and traced a scar with his finger. “Why do you care” he mumbled. “Because…I love you” I said. With that he looked at me, with sadness in his eyes. “Really?” He asked. “Yes” I said, our faces only an inch apart. And with that I closed the gap between our lips to pull him into a long, passionate kiss. As we pulled away he whispered, “I love you too.”
It was once a shiny, bright doorknob. Now, it sat there dusty and forgotten. The room behind it held a world of treasures that no one would get to see, because no one knew it was there. Forgotten and alone, the doorknob rusted away while the room behind it molded away.
A doorknob is an extremely useful device attached to doors that helps us open them. Life could be extremely difficult without doorknobs. I believe smashing down every door you came to could become tiring.
ode to the infamous doorknob, oh how I’ve set my hands on to you more than my girlfriend and anyone else. she will be jealous, because you just make everything so easy. your easy doorknob.
She turned the doorknob-
Slowly
Dreading what was on the other side of that door.
Like a fire trapped in the room behind,
She could feel the heat
and the pending burst.
It would happen,
and soon.
The end.
I Was Dreaming.
I Knew That Immediately
Because He Was There,
And I’d Already Accepted the Fact
That He’s Never Coming Back.
I Ran to Him,
Yearning For His Touch,
Not Caring That He Wasn’t Real,
Just Wanting So Desperately to Touch His Skin,
No Matter How Unreal.
I Was Merely Inches From Him
When a Door Between Us
Slammed
Blocking Me From Him.
I Hammered on the Door,
But it Would Not Budge.
I Knew What Was Going to Happen
Before I Even Touched the Doorknob.
It Was Locked.
I Couldn’t Even Reach Him
In My Dreams…
the doorknob was hanging from the ceiling and nothing really made much sense to her anymore. All she wanted was to fall asleep and escape into her dreams, the way she used to escape into her stories.
She walked into the room, turning the gold doorknob behind her.
“What are you doing here?” He yelled at her. “I came to get my things.” She replied, calmly. She almost made him feel bad for yelling, but he didn’t care. “Get. Out.” He hissed through his teeth.
It wasn’t so much that he didn’t want to visit his grandma it was more that he seemed to envision so many obstacles between him and opening the door that was now five short metres away. He pictured himself falling flat on his face as he tried to walk across, and the doorknob sliding uselessly through his hands as he tried to enter.
The doorknob turned to dust in my hand as i attempted to open the door. The screaming still persisted, chilling my bone to the core. If only I could just get behind the door, then i could save the person and stop the horrible screams. But it was too late; the screaming had already stopped.
There was a door I couldn’t help but want to go through. But the doorknob was heated. I’m not quite sure why. But it terrified me. I never went through that door.
I am holding the doorknob sweating with anxiety, anxiety of what may occur if I ever turn it, if I decide to move my hand clockwise and proceed enter your home. Will you be there sitting in your chair comme d’habitude? Will you pin me down and demand answers, answers to questions I will never understand? Perhaps you fancied going out to dinner with your concubine and I got here just in the nick of time. Oh please please please I beg of you, don’t be there, don’t sit in that rouge velvet chair by the window holding the newspaper in one hand and a frying pan in the other waiting to cook my heart for dinner; don’t be there waiting to plunge the proverbial knife hiding beneath your tongue as you write my name in the obituary with the blood spilling from my nonexistent heart. I promise I’ll be quick, it’s only that notebook hiding beneath the mattress, that is all I require.
Slowly the knob moved clockwise my hand’s grip was weak with perspiration, deep sighs and a quick heartbeat ensued as the light of the back window shined upon my eye. I peeked inside and…
She turned the doorknob slowly, scared of what she’d find inside. The brass was cold in her hand, but turned easily. It was as she feared, the inside was covered in paint.
I remember doorknobs when I was little. They were always very difficult to keep quiet when creeping around the house, and it was a precise action to turn them just so with a steady hand to keep them from rattling around.
Doorknobs are pretty interesting if you think about it. They open doors. Now, not many people will find that interesting but if you think about it in a deeper level, it means so much more, it opens opportunities, and can open you up to things in life. Its such a simple thing but has a huge concept behind it. I never thought of that until now.
I grasped the doorknob. It was firm and vaguely slippery beneath my hand. My heart was beating in my throat as I tried to turn it, the knob slipping a little in its setting. As I pushed open, the door, I wasn’t sure what I’d see. Would he be there? Would he be gone?
A doorknob helps open a door. What will the door lead to? What will the doorknob make the door lead to? Who knows. Maybe the destination on the other side of the door is up to the type of door knob. Perhaps doorknobs have feelings like the one from Alice in Wonderland. That seems rather amazing. What if that was true. What if the doorknob was what made up the alternate place. Things would be so different. We would all be so spontaneous. We would all be so scared.
Doorknobs. Awesome.
I opened the door with my hand grasped to the doorknob, wondering if i should go in or not. This could change everything. Anything could happen. What if i’m disappointed? what if it’s not what I expect? How could I deal with the fact of being with him forever. Could i really ever be happy? He’s so bland, i want excitement!
I’m just a doorknob on the door.
Lonely, forgotten, abandoned.
Used only when needed, I lead a wretched life.
Spoilt, I get thrown away; just like dust in the wind.
There are no doorknobs on the inside of my restroom doors. It’s so irritating because when I shower I have to close the door to my room instead of the restroom. Not that I’m complaining, it’s quite a nice restroom. Best I’ve ever had.
“Do not disturb;” it read. But “open it;” your inner child said.
I often get static shocks when it comes to doorknobs. So from now on, I’ll use rubber gloves when I’m cleaning up a murder scene. Yeah, I just killed my wife. Damn that bitch.
They turn, don’t they? Is there something bad waiting or something good? Is it worth the risk? I think so.
they are on doors and are used to grabs to open and close doors. they are usually round and made out of metal. they are situated right in the middle of the door. they are normally very germy considering a lot of people touch them.
The golden doorknob shined in the sunlight. It was so hard to believe that it was time to go. Moving is such a hard thing to do. Especially in the manner that I was leaving. Heartbreaking, really. All that was left in the room was this shiny golden doorknob. The only reminder of what used to be.
They turn don’t they? They could reveal something good or something bad… It’s worth the risk.
doorknobs are silly because you should just have to push a door open, you know? like what if i’m carrying some heavy-ass shit that requires all of my bicep strength? but what if someone walks in on me taking a wizz. i guess doorknobs are clever after all :/ i’ll never question what ‘is’ again.
She could feel all the litres of blood rush around through her veins seeming to try escape from her very body. Now was hardly the time for the “flight” instinct to kick in, she had to be quiet, she had to be brave, and as she reached her shaking hand toward the doorknob she knew she couldn’t erase what she was about to see…
A wooden door; the entrance to an old, abandoned house in the middle of the forest. It’s strange. A phantasmagoric air surrounds it.
I had a doorknob once and it was old and brass and worn. The paint had rubbed off where hands held it, turned it. Abused it. Sometimes I would have prefered a knocker. No doorknob on the outside.
The last time I worried about which doorknob to open, it was when I was all by myself. I have this awful all-consuming anxiety towards running into strange men and every time I’m by myself and have to enter a room I cannot see the contents of, I panic. I can’t help the way I feel. Passing strangers on the road, in the elevator, in my neighborhood… Why can even turning just a doorknob scare me?
When I think of doorknobs I think of interesting textures, varying shapes and the passage to a grand adventure or a boring room. Doorknobs an be quite amazing and full of history. Some have been around for centuries. These doorknobs have been handled by many people and “seen” the world evolve rapidly. I’m glad I’m not a doorknob! I really don’t want to be slammed when someone gets mad or replaced when someone decides that I just don’t belong anymore. doorknobs are important, but I do believe they are not respected …
what a fascinating device. it turns, it opens. it really works! not merely these things of importance, but it’s symbolic. care to understand, then grab, and turn. go ahead. it’s chock-full of germs man. but that’s what a doorknob is, it’s risk.
THe doorknob is bright blue on the large wooden door. I take the cold, round knob in my hand and turn it. The door opens to a massive bright orange room.
One of the things I think about when I remember my time living in Germany and in most of the countries I visited in Europe is their doorknobs are different. In the US they’re actual knobs but over there they were more like levers more often than not and as such they were easier to open with an elbow when my arms were full. I always preferred their door opening devices to our knobs.
honestly i did not know what that word was at first. However doorknobs are interesting. the other day i was at a store (prob home depot) and i noticed that there are so many different types of doorknobs. I like the crystal ones. For some reason my time restarted. i do not exactly know what i am doing, but i find it fun! so now i am gonna chill out. when i first read the word i thought it said dookrnop? maybe i am dyslexic.
Smooth, yet slightly cold, this man made invention created for the convenience of mankind gave off an eerie smell of rust. Yes cold, oh so cold…
gfdjhihdgsoisdfc
I turned the doorknob as slowly as I could, seeing as I heard muffled sobs coming from inside Harry’s room and I didn’t want to barge in loudly. But after seeing him sitting on the bed with a razor in his hand, I quickened my pace and sped over to him, grabbing the razor out of his hand and looking at the damage he had done. He finally regained his senses and hung his head low, ashamed that I had caught him cutting himself. I ran my thumb up his inner thigh, wiping away the blood that was trickling down in a steady stream. After wiping my hands on the bed sheets, I brushed my fingers over the scars on his legs. “Harry…why are you doing this?” I asked. His curly locks moved back and forth as he shook his head, unable to come up with an audible response. “Harry…” I said. He stayed still. “Harry look at me” I ordered. He slowly raised his head to gaze into my eyes. I put a hand on his cheek. “Harry promise me you won’t do this anymore” I said. He dropped his head again and traced a scar with his finger. “Why do you care” he mumbled. “Because…I love you” I said. With that he looked at me, with sadness in his eyes. “Really?” He asked. “Yes” I said, our faces only an inch apart. And with that I closed the gap between our lips to pull him into a long, passionate kiss. As we pulled away he whispered, “I love you too.”
Don’t be such a doorknob. That’s what she said to me. I don’t even know how a doorknob is supposed to behave in the first place.
It was once a shiny, bright doorknob. Now, it sat there dusty and forgotten. The room behind it held a world of treasures that no one would get to see, because no one knew it was there. Forgotten and alone, the doorknob rusted away while the room behind it molded away.