#liminalspace - Hello Poetry

In my house, there is a room. Still part of it, yet forgotten. No one visits anymore. It's been so long since the door last opened. Now, the key is lost, and nature has begun to swallow it. But it doesn't matter. The room is sealed, locked in loneliness. Still i wonder if someone lives there. Perhaps a ghost of an old friend, or just a silly cat. I don't dare go near. Yet, sometimes, the door stares, Inviting me in.

0

Jan 17

Jan 17, 2026 at 1:26 PM UTC

Shubh4u

The room

In my house, there is a room. Still part of it, yet forgotten. No one visits anymore. It's been so long since the door last opened. Now, the key is lost, and nature has begun to swallow it. But it doesn't matter. The room is sealed, locked in loneliness. Still i wonder if someone lives there. Perhaps a ghost of an old friend, or just a silly cat. I don't dare go near. Yet, sometimes, the door stares, Inviting me in.

19

In my dreams, I see you taking my hands. The light in you leads me. Your eyes pull me to your world it's just you and me

0

Jan 16

Jan 16, 2026 at 1:01 PM UTC

Shubh4u

YOur world

In my dreams, I see you taking my hands. The light in you leads me. Your eyes pull me to your world it's just you and me

6

what an empty epitaph that is— the art of noticing, fragility of life. does iron fear the rot that overtakes it in the moisture the world provides? it is what it is, but does it have to be? plots of the unknown—how can i thrive? liminal space of some sort, where i've found myself this once, and all the other once’s. i’m still in the spirit, but the dead don’t return. can’t find a body—everyone has souls, not a single empty one. i have stars on my ceiling. can you hurt a spirit, wound it like you’d wound a body? find me a confessional— i’d like to admit to my sins. long since it has felt like grief lives in the walls of this room where i reside. you write and you put it out and it’s like baring yourself in the naked truth and ugly to everyone outside. i intend to stay hidden— in a shirt twice the size of me, a pair of pajamas i should’ve thrown away a while ago, and the same damaged pair of glasses— except they’re light and they feel mine, with the same teddy and old laptop. needed this to be a list of prompts. found it making sense instead. my life’s woven this way— of symphonies, perhaps i’ll leave unsaid. uncertainty begging for understanding, faith asking to be relieved. i can fit into the same years ' worth of old clothes. have i never really grown, all this while? i’ll save this to push it down the bin, choke as every word comes out to spill— the darkest of secrets, epiphanies of the night. you breathe in the love, tend to forget its might. half-eaten swiss roll, rotting with sour cream. a modified bunny made out of clay. purple tulips— but they’re fake. i like the color grey. cherry bombing every lie. kiss till you’re numb, dissociate into the wild. what speaks—and what swallows? golden halo of the angels, wings tainted in red, singing siren sounds, myths ruled over, unclad. i broke my old pair of glasses. they’re beyond repair now.

0

Jul 21, 2025

Jul 21, 2025 at 5:04 PM UTC

poeticaofisshues

stole a nap from the hour

what an empty epitaph that is— the art of noticing, fragility of life. does iron fear the rot that overtakes it in the moisture the world provides? it is what it is, but does it have to be? plots of the unknown—how can i thrive? liminal space of some sort, where i've found myself this once, and all the other once’s. i’m still in the spirit, but the dead don’t return. can’t find a body—everyone has souls, not a single empty one. i have stars on my ceiling. can you hurt a spirit, wound it like you’d wound a body? find me a confessional— i’d like to admit to my sins. long since it has felt like grief lives in the walls of this room where i reside. you write and you put it out and it’s like baring yourself in the naked truth and ugly to everyone outside. i intend to stay hidden— in a shirt twice the size of me, a pair of pajamas i should’ve thrown away a while ago, and the same damaged pair of glasses— except they’re light and they feel mine, with the same teddy and old laptop. needed this to be a list of prompts. found it making sense instead. my life’s woven this way— of symphonies, perhaps i’ll leave unsaid. uncertainty begging for understanding, faith asking to be relieved. i can fit into the same years ' worth of old clothes. have i never really grown, all this while? i’ll save this to push it down the bin, choke as every word comes out to spill— the darkest of secrets, epiphanies of the night. you breathe in the love, tend to forget its might. half-eaten swiss roll, rotting with sour cream. a modified bunny made out of clay. purple tulips— but they’re fake. i like the color grey. cherry bombing every lie. kiss till you’re numb, dissociate into the wild. what speaks—and what swallows? golden halo of the angels, wings tainted in red, singing siren sounds, myths ruled over, unclad. i broke my old pair of glasses. they’re beyond repair now.

59

My hands linger on the barrier tight, Fingers twitching in the failing light. Blood is drumming, hot and loud, A whispered thought beneath the shroud. There’s a pressure blooming in my head, Like every word I left unsaid. It hums behind my aching eyes— A silent song that never dies. Half-lidded eyes, I am silent and watching There waits the void - Gaping Calling Pulling There's a gravity that pulls me near, A silent whisper I half-hear As the yawning void draws me in, slow and thin, I can't help but gaze, its pull a curious haze. It's promise I have not destroyed. It sings in shadows, soft and low, A voice that tells me where to go. But still I hover, still I stall, One heartbeat shy of letting fall. I want to leap, to drown, to fly— To find out what comes after why. The wind shifts, and picks up my hair. I blink and turn—no fanfare. Just the concrete path, and the noise of life - the cars, the birds, the sun burning bright. I shift my weight. The void still calls. It tugs at my feet, my arms, my soul. It's hold trembles. The strings snap. I step away as the chords retract. The mouth closes. Now threadbare— fraying, curling...but I don't care. I am stalwart. I am serene. No longer caught in what has been. The path ahead is cracked and wide. I don’t look back. I walk. I try. Maybe this is why.

0

Jul 10, 2025

Jul 10, 2025 at 6:28 AM UTC

Aflame

The Pull

My hands linger on the barrier tight, Fingers twitching in the failing light. Blood is drumming, hot and loud, A whispered thought beneath the shroud. There’s a pressure blooming in my head, Like every word I left unsaid. It hums behind my aching eyes— A silent song that never dies. Half-lidded eyes, I am silent and watching There waits the void - Gaping Calling Pulling There's a gravity that pulls me near, A silent whisper I half-hear As the yawning void draws me in, slow and thin, I can't help but gaze, its pull a curious haze. It's promise I have not destroyed. It sings in shadows, soft and low, A voice that tells me where to go. But still I hover, still I stall, One heartbeat shy of letting fall. I want to leap, to drown, to fly— To find out what comes after why. The wind shifts, and picks up my hair. I blink and turn—no fanfare. Just the concrete path, and the noise of life - the cars, the birds, the sun burning bright. I shift my weight. The void still calls. It tugs at my feet, my arms, my soul. It's hold trembles. The strings snap. I step away as the chords retract. The mouth closes. Now threadbare— fraying, curling...but I don't care. I am stalwart. I am serene. No longer caught in what has been. The path ahead is cracked and wide. I don’t look back. I walk. I try. Maybe this is why.

42

facing deepest truth— in the belly of the whale finding purpose there

0

Apr 15, 2025

Apr 15, 2025 at 7:51 PM UTC

Joss_Lennox

Liminal Spaces

facing deepest truth— in the belly of the whale finding purpose there

3

I got to wondering today if I am an old dog who can’t be taught new tricks if that windmill going round and round catching the wind between the blades is really who I am, if the universe surges into the spaces still left in me, if it is trying to wake the music yet alive inside in the curves of my heart, if the blood pulsing there refuses to go down in one grave path and insists on a symphony of swerve an inclination in a new direction. If that breeze is really grace then maybe I am being reborn a puppy full of life eager to be all the dog it can be.

0

Apr 12, 2021

Apr 12, 2021 at 12:31 AM UTC

glenn-currier

The Puppy

I got to wondering today if I am an old dog who can’t be taught new tricks if that windmill going round and round catching the wind between the blades is really who I am, if the universe surges into the spaces still left in me, if it is trying to wake the music yet alive inside in the curves of my heart, if the blood pulsing there refuses to go down in one grave path and insists on a symphony of swerve an inclination in a new direction. If that breeze is really grace then maybe I am being reborn a puppy full of life eager to be all the dog it can be.

19

Here I wait resting on the door jamb standing betwixt and between shall I stay here or drop my hand, move beyond what I’ve known and seen? What will be out there to my left and right where will the next step take me from here? They said danger is there out of my sight - threats, jinxes, and disease if that step I dare. But if I move back into the shady cool I’ll be safe in this cozy inner space. Being in between without old rules not knowing the beyond I’ll face is scary but this is a journey of revelation even if sacrifice and loss is in this race I trust I will find peace and inspiration.

0

May 4, 2020

May 4, 2020 at 12:38 AM UTC

glenn-currier

Threshold

Here I wait resting on the door jamb standing betwixt and between shall I stay here or drop my hand, move beyond what I’ve known and seen? What will be out there to my left and right where will the next step take me from here? They said danger is there out of my sight - threats, jinxes, and disease if that step I dare. But if I move back into the shady cool I’ll be safe in this cozy inner space. Being in between without old rules not knowing the beyond I’ll face is scary but this is a journey of revelation even if sacrifice and loss is in this race I trust I will find peace and inspiration.

15