Corridor with Open Doors
A hallway lit from uneven angles,
doors breathing in and out of view,
each one carrying its own climate.
Footsteps ahead,
quick, then gone,
as if someone had stepped into a brighter room
and let the rest of the day
decide the pace.
Walls marked by old fixtures,
a faint shimmer where
a poster once hung,
the kind of detail you notice
only when the afternoon sharpens.
Voices drift from a stairwell,
neither calling nor waiting,
just passing through the building
the way light passes
through a narrow pane
before widening across the floor.
You pause near the last doorway,
air warmer here,
as though the next turn
might open into something unplanned—
a street, a station,
a place where the day starts again,
asking nothing of anything, ever at all.
.
-
Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 22nd, 2026 04:55
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 14
- Users favorite of this poem: Friendship, Carlos Alberto BUSTILLOS, Tristan Robert Lange
- In collections: musically fit.
Offline)
Comments8
A lovely write of lovely images leading up to a killer line "asking nothing of anything, ever at all." To me this gives total meaning to the poem.
Thank you dear Soren. I have been receiving quite a bit of grief over my endings, so this is deliciously encouraging. 🙏🕊️
You are most welcome Cryptic do not despair I have found that often my endings are not understood for the metaphor that they hold and go unnoticed.
Thanks Soren, not despairing here. It too shall pass. 🙏🕊️
I agree with Soren, the last line was a clincher, "ask nothing of anything, ever at all. A profound, prophetic statement that can be applied to many situations. Lovely images in the poem as well. great read.
That counts as a vote of confidence dear Katie B. Thanks from a flagging countenance. Most truly appreciated 🙏🕊️
a great observational write my friend
Thanks, dear Norman. You are much appreciated, my friend. 🙏🕊️
most welcome
For me this is an extraordinary observation of the light of the day travelling through the hall. I was taken to this place that just exists and asks for nothing
Like hallways and corridors that somehow should mean something, but they seem to just exist. Takes me also to a famous Midnight Oil music video. 🙏🕊️
Well said. Your poem explores the themes of transition, possibility, and the unnoticed beauty of everyday moments. It captures the essence of a mundane space—a hallway—while suggesting a deeper significance in the act of moving through life, hinting at encounters and experiences that may reshape one's perspective.
Many thanks Friendship 🙏🏻🕊️
You're so welcome
Good write A.
Thanks O.
there's a whole lot here to take in, in one go .. but I adore every word I've taken in so far .. this is one of those I call a reverse boomerang .. in effect I am compelled to return to it .. ⭐🌟✨⭐🌟💫👍
That can be a plus, the reverse boomerang. I’m afraid it’s more a fluke than a poetic device from my side. Thanks dear friend 🙏🏻🕊️🪃
arqios, what a beautifully atmospheric piece this is. The hallway becomes more than a setting here...it starts feeling like a threshold between versions of a day, or even versions of oneself. The shifting light, drifting voices, and warmth near the final doorway all carry this subtle sense that something quietly transformative is just around the corner. That final line leaves the whole poem breathing softly afterward. Excellent write, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
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