The Slatted Door

[alatos]

The noble poetry of love and light –
that raptured vision of the hopeful soul,
a fatty fish content within its bowl –
I will not babble out tonight.
 
Tonight, I stand and face the slatted door.
Emptiness peers through its antique cracks,
pleading innocence to the blood-caked floor,
the scrapes where fated fingers raked their tracks.
 
I stand, and face the slatted door alone.
The loveless, hopeless hallway straight and long,
each side-door bolted, locked, and boarded strong,
the door I entered in has turned to stone.
 
And so, I walk towards the slatted door.
My breathing and my footsteps stir the dust,
releasing it from rotting wood and rust
in sinister bloom, each particle a spore.
 
I walk, and know that love could never save.
The dreadful room is empty, after all.
I dimly hear its voiceless, luring call…
the sound of nothingness – the thing I crave.

[Filíocht]

I think you could have given this more of a punch - the 'concept' that is - with a (better?) choice of words, maybe different? simply as regards the whole 'slatted door' idea. If there's anything behind it besides lost hope I can't see it. Maybe open the slats another bit. Also the meter seems strained at times with longer and shorter lines - I like the rhyming scheme too & especially the last stanza "I walk, and know that love could never save.
The dreadful room is empty, after all.
I dimly hear its voiceless, luring call…
the sound of nothingness – the thing I crave."
- regards

[amiwrite]

The noble poetry of love and light –
that raptured vision of the hopeful soul,
a fatty fish content within its bowl –
I will not babble out tonight.
 
Tonight, I stand and face the slatted door.
Emptiness peers through its antique cracks,
pleading innocence to the blood-caked floor,
the scrapes where fated fingers raked their tracks.
 
I stand, and face the slatted door alone.
The loveless, hopeless hallway straight and long,
each side-door bolted, locked, and boarded strong,
the door I entered in has turned to stone.
 
And so, I walk towards the slatted door.
My breathing and my footsteps stir the dust,
releasing it from rotting wood and rust
in sinister bloom, each particle a spore.
 
I walk, and know that love could never save.
The dreadful room is empty, after all.
I dimly hear its voiceless, luring call…
the sound of nothingness – the thing I crave.

I fully understand bits and pieces of this, and even then I can't put the whole piece together. While the details help the reader to paint a picture, these can be different to everyone reading the poem.

[alatos]

Though I don't understand a word of this (which seems par for the course in poetry the past 70 years, fitting Joyce's comment that 'poetry is a game"), isolated parts (words, phrases, images) are provocative and do have a effect.

I notice you use 2 different rhyme patterns (abab, and aabb).  I guess that's as good as any other pattern, and I imagine it was neither planned nor a result of necessity - it just came out that way.

I like your form and don't find the meter strained at all.  It seemed natural to me.  I should say something about the content, but I can't because I don't know what it is.  I like cryptic poems that have an effect, but only sometimes, and really prefer poems whose meaning is obvious.

I truly didn't expect any confusion surrounding this poem (actually worrying that it might be a little too common of a theme/symbol). The image of the slatted door down a long hallway came from an episode of "American Horror Story." I don't watch the show, and didn't even finish the episode, but for some reason the image was just begging to be written about. 

I used the door at the end of a hallway as symbolic of death at the end of life's path. Behind that door... annihilation (at least in the speaker's mind). This is what the lines about the room being empty, and nothingness, and silence are about. That's why there are claw marks  and dried blood at its entrance. And there's also the aspect of going through life alone with no hope. That's why the speaker craves the abyss at the end.

[somnium]

Overall I like nothingness and so the calling to the void I love, but without love would you love nothingness at all? See I thinkn in balance nothingness, or the void, a reality of death if you will works with reality to omit the aspects we do not choose to remain, and all the while we seek to retain that which we wish, as well as all the thing unknown to us in which to fish. Without this, this thirst, it would be nothing, and so love for life comes first!

[shootthestar25]

The noble poetry of love and light –
that raptured vision of the hopeful soul,
a fatty fish content within its bowl – <-- I love this image!
I will not babble out tonight.
 
Tonight, I stand and face the slatted door.
Emptiness peers through its antique cracks,
pleading innocence to the blood-caked floor,
the scrapes where fated fingers raked their tracks.
 
I stand, and face the slatted door alone.
The loveless, hopeless hallway straight and long,
each side-door bolted, locked, and boarded strong,
the door I entered in has turned to stone. <-- the rhyming in this stanza really works for me.
 
And so, I walk towards the slatted door.
My breathing and my footsteps stir the dust, <-- this line doesn't have the right number of syllables for your rhythm. Less I think?
releasing it from rotting wood and rust
in sinister bloom, each particle a spore.
 
I walk, and know that love could never save.
The dreadful room is empty, after all.
I dimly hear its voiceless, luring call…
the sound of nothingness – the thing I crave. <-- This line seems strained

[ThePen]

The noble poetry of love and light –
that raptured vision of the hopeful soul,
a fatty fish content within its bowl –
I will not babble out tonight.
 
Tonight, I stand and face the slatted door.
Emptiness peers through its antique cracks,
pleading innocence to the blood-caked floor,
the scrapes where fated fingers raked their tracks.
 
I stand, and face the slatted door alone.
The loveless, hopeless hallway straight and long,
each side-door bolted, locked, and boarded strong,
the door I entered in has turned to stone.
 
And so, I walk towards the slatted door.
My breathing and my footsteps stir the dust,
releasing it from rotting wood and rust
in sinister bloom, each particle a spore.
 
I walk, and know that love could never save.
The dreadful room is empty, after all.
I dimly hear its voiceless, luring call…
the sound of nothingness – the thing I crave.

I sort of like your poetry. There is definitely progression and structure to it. It took me a while to understand the progression of the descriptions.

Your poem seems a bit uneven. Your third stanza has really long meters. I am glad that your poem rhymes pretty well. The last stanza is a bit difficult to understand. I feel that the mention of love seems a bit out of place, or at least disconnected from the general poem. I think that the last stanza might be your weakest. But I also like the "luring call" phrase.

All in all, an interesting poem.