The hall

[way2epic4me]

A man wanders down a dark hall
Floor scuffed and walls cracked
A passage long forgotten
A passage he wishes was forgotten
Portraits of memories
Moments in one’s life hang on the walls
He stands before one, it paint has long faded
His finger brushes it lightly
Warmth spreads throughout his body
Soft light shines through the old golden frame
He closes his eyes, a faint smile plays on his lips
Sunlight, grass, a young girl lying next to him
Their hands embrace each other as she smiles
The light fades and the hall is once again cold and dark
His smile fades as cold reality returns
He continues down the long hall
The hall seems to lighten, the air is less stale
He is drawn to another portrait
Its paint, still faded, still shows what lies behind it.
His hand reaches for that memory, one he so desperately fights for
White, white light, white flowers, white dress
There she stood, an angel in the midst of mortals
Butterflies flutter through his heart
His nervous swallow brought a beautiful smile upon her lips
A bond forged by a small ring of gold
He is left there, staring at the old painting
He reaches out for one last touch of happiness
But time had passed, the memory gone
He whispers something to the painting
A whisper of love, a whisper of forgiveness
He turns his back on the past and continues down the hall
He stops, he knows what lies down here
He knows what he must face
There is a painting on the wall
Its colours brighter than the others
Full of life, full of joy
But there’s also dread
And a cold fear that echoes
Right lights and sounds
He hears screaming
Screaming of a woman? Or the screaming of new life?
He looks down and there in his arms, is new life
Looking up at him
He smiles, entranced with wonder
But the dread slowly tugs on his smile
He knows what happens next
Once more he is pulled back into the hall
A tear forms in the corner of his eye
As he reaches out and touches the face of his child
The hall darkens as he follows its path
The cold seeps into his heart
He can feel the dread in the air on his kin
He passes painting on the walls
One of a cot, a ball, a cake, a toothy grin and a school bag
He pushes on, tears welling in his eyes
Until he stops
The is one painting on the wall
Staring at him
Fearing what come next his hand reaches for it, shaking
The memories burn through him
A clinic, a hospital bed, a head stone
He cries out in pain as he is dragged back
Clawing at the painting, he screams
He screams at what fate has denied him
He screams for his son
He tears the painting off the wall and beats the wall with his fist
Tear stricken he collapses to the floor, defeated
He lays there haunted by his past, his memories, by this hall
The walls turn to sand, blown away by the wind
Revealing an empty field of wheat
Alone
There he lies weeping, alone
Slowly he realises, he is not alone.
There standing in the field is a boy
“Charlie?” the man whispers
The boy smiles and reveals a toothy grin
He holds out his and to the man
Struggling to his feet the man reaches for his son’s hand
The boy tilts his head back and smiles
As a white light washes over them


Hi I have no idea what to do for the very last line, I have the it in my head but I just can't justify it in words. The idea that things have come full circle, that everything has fallen into place. If you could help me out there that would be greatly appreciated.

Anyway, it’s been a long while since my last post, how are we all?

Just want to say thanks for bearing with this one, its a long one I know. Thanks.

[rowens]

It's a long and winding universal hallway. Universal as in shared, common experience. And that's fine. It just doesn't have many poetic qualities outside of the overall theme. You can check for some typos, too. The poetic expressions that are there are very common, and it's clear you're more interested in getting the message across, and that common, mutual experience is important to that intention. So a lot has to be said in those last lines, which is why they are so difficult to get a hold on, right?

[billy]

you could remove the last line that's already there and leave it at that., ending the poem on smiles.

for me the poem needs a good cutting, while narrative poetry is as good as any other, it needs a good voice.
the narrative needs to hold us up or push us away, it needs to show us something. at present it's all being told; which again is okay in a narrative poem, but it feels too dispassionate and forced.

[heslopian]

A man wanders down a dark hall
Floor scuffed and walls cracked
A passage long forgotten
A passage he wishes was forgotten
Portraits of memories
Moments in one’s life hang on the walls
He stands before one, it's paint has long faded
His finger brushes it lightly
Warmth spreads throughout his body
Soft light shines through the old golden frame
He closes his eyes, a faint smile plays on his lips
Sunlight, grass, a young girl lying next to him
Their hands embrace each other as she smiles
The light fades and the hall is once again cold and dark
His smile fades as cold reality returns
He continues down the long hall
The hall seems to lighten, the air is less stale
He is drawn to another portrait
Its paint, still faded, still shows what lies behind it.
His hand reaches for that memory, one he so desperately fights for
White, white light, white flowers, white dress
There she stood, an angel in the midst of mortals
Butterflies flutter through his heart
His nervous swallow brought a beautiful smile upon her lips
A bond forged by a small ring of gold
He is left there, staring at the old painting
He reaches out for one last touch of happiness
But time had passed, the memory gone
He whispers something to the painting
A whisper of love, a whisper of forgiveness
He turns his back on the past and continues down the hall
He stops, he knows what lies down here
He knows what he must face
There is a painting on the wall
Its colours brighter than the others
Full of life, full of joy
But there’s also dread
And a cold fear that echoes
Right lights and sounds
He hears screaming
Screaming of a woman? Or the screaming of new life?
He looks down and there in his arms, is new life
Looking up at him
He smiles, entranced with wonder
But the dread slowly tugs on his smile
He knows what happens next
Once more he is pulled back into the hall
A tear forms in the corner of his eye
As he reaches out and touches the face of his child
The hall darkens as he follows its path
The cold seeps into his heart
He can feel the dread in the air on his kin
He passes painting on the walls
One of a cot, a ball, a cake, a toothy grin and a school bag
He pushes on, tears welling in his eyes
Until he stops
There is one painting on the wall
Staring at him;
Fearing what comes next his hand reaches for it, shaking;
The memories burn through him
A clinic, a hospital bed, a head stone
He cries out in pain as he is dragged back
Clawing at the painting, he screams
He screams at what fate has denied him
He screams for his son
He tears the painting off the wall and beats the wall with his fist
Tear stricken he collapses to the floor, defeated
He lays there haunted by his past, his memories, by this hall
The walls turn to sand, blown away by the wind
Revealing an empty field of wheat,
Alone,
There he lies weeping, alone
Slowly he realises, he is not alone.
There standing in the field is a boy
“Charlie?” the man whispers
The boy smiles and reveals a toothy grin
He holds out his hand to the man
Struggling to his feet the man reaches for his son’s hand
The boy tilts his head back and smiles
As a white light washes over them


Hi I have no idea what to do for the very last line, I have the it in my head but I just can't justify it in words. The idea that things have come full circle, that everything has fallen into place. If you could help me out there that would be greatly appreciated.

Anyway, it’s been a long while since my last post, how are we all?

Just want to say thanks for bearing with this one, its a long one I know. Thanks.

As you can see above, I've corrected in bold some spelling mistakes. I hope I don't seem too much like a teacher with a red pen I've also suggested a couple of semi-colons and commas which I think could help distinguish clauses.
I really enjoyed this poem. Its themes of loss and regret remind me a bit of The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe. Just like the unnamed narrator of that masterpiece, your hero is trapped in his own chambers with his own ghostly reminders. Your imagery is sharp and effective. I loved the hero's interactions with his wife's pictures.
Regarding the last line, I don't think you need it. Thanks for the read