Published January 4, 2009
another oldie
He walks down the halls
All dressed in almost-liquid black
A stain,
Against white walls
Trapped in this place
That we call life
Not much to look at
Is there?
Trapped in this thing
That we call eternity
It might be fun at first
But how long can one
Stare at white walls
Wishing,
Hoping,
For someone to come along
The only tranquility he has
From the pure white walls
Is the solitude
Of his lone mind
Long ago,
Turned into a safe haven
From an ice-covered heart
Shattered and in pieces
He waits for the one
To put it back together
To collect all the pieces
And set him free
From the eternal Hell
In which he walks
Pure white walls
In never-ending halls,
Wasn’t what he had in mind
Now all he can do is
Wait,
Walk, and
Watch
The pure white walls
For the slight crack
Of a door out
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140,820 Literary Works • 673,694 Reviews
Hi,
I actually really like this poem, it shows that life is a bit like a blank canvas that you need to paint it also shows that life has a solitude feel about it, really nice work! I couldn't really see any faults about your poem apart from you might want to put a few more comma's here and there as when I read it i felt as thought I had to take breaths quite a lot or maybe that's just me lol I'm not sure 0_0 but I thought it was an excellently written poem with some beautiful imagery I look forward to reading more of your work and good luck ^^
~ Hayley
Nice! I like it. One suggestion I have is to cut out some line breaks and make the longer, so it's less choppy to read. I like the way the "pure white walls" kept repeating. It became annoying, like I was walking in circles and not getting anywhere, but I liked that because it made me empathize with the speaker and his eternal wait. It reminded me of being stuck in the hospital, and also of "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest". Good stuff!
-BFG
Wow. That was good. I just have to wonder: what was his past? This guy's past? Did he do something to get him commited to an institution, or are the white walls a simile? That was about it. A very haunting poem. Good job!
Cheers.
--Vox