#halls
There are things that haunt me
Secrets define who I am
I close the door and turn the lock
Safety feels like sham
Dangerous monsters lurk nearby
Darkness all I see
Loneliness and her sister Sorrow
Dance perfect harmony
The burden of reminiscence
Punishment at which I excel
Love affair gone wrong with life
Scorned gives me constant hell
The missing pieces of soul
Like vanished footage erased
Past the ****** aiming for assassination
Of veil in which my emotions are encased
The moon holds multiple mysteries
Keeps promises telling zero lies
Age old tale of cat and mouse
The whispers of sad lullabies
There are skeletons buried in the dirt
Eyes have all but forgotten
By random coincidences covered
Under the surface are rotten
Icarus flew too close to sun
Descended into freezing space
Brokeness and beauty of insanity
Adorned fall with grace
I seethe with envy for sky
Winged creatures flapping to and fro
In a moment of quiet reflection
Wish I too could flee the snow
I scribbled letters in stardust
To tattoo upon brain
Guaranteeing I not ever forget
"Love is only masqueraded pain"
A warning woven through blood
Explanation for why I am colder
Despite the layer of frost on my heart
Old flames continue to smolder
The brief flickering nostalgia
Warms bones deeper than whiskey strong
Melting into fond memories
The present is where my attention belongs
And I am snapped into reality
Like broken rubber band
Scrambling to gather footing
Struggling to understand
Why emotions like glass just shatter
Under slightest pressure on skin
More I try to solidify foundation
Harder it shakes pillars within
It's difficult these days to view the light
Night amplifies anguish I feel
Halls of my head are teeming with ghosts
Each a scar that will never fully heal
Oct 15, 2025
Oct 15, 2025 at 9:51 PM UTC
This walls all talk,
These halls tell stories,
But they aren't legends yet,
They can't be, she isn't gone.
These walls talk too much!
These halls tell lies!
I hate all these pictures,
Memories stolen away from me!
These walls talk,
These halls are story tellers,
If I listen for long enough,
Will they bring her back?
These walls talk dispairingly,
These halls tell somber stories,
I passed another man walking,
Is he a loner such as I?
These walls talk of her loveliness,
These halls tell her story,
I listen to their songs,
And bathe in her memory.
Mar 14, 2025
Mar 14, 2025 at 8:41 AM UTC
The halls of my mind
written April 6th, 2021
I spend my time
walking the halls
of my mind.
Parts are like
an Escher drawing
with stairs that go
everywhere
and nowhere.
I take a set of stairs
that leads to a spiral
circling inward
never reaching
the center.
Until my next step
almost takes me over
the cliff
at the outermost edge.
Sometimes I sit
on that edge of the world
looking out at
the neighboring universes
and wonder about wings.
Eventually I turn back
down a long unbroken hallway
which is as long as my life
and continue walking these halls
that are my world.
May 20, 2021
May 20, 2021 at 6:56 AM UTC
my mind may have layers
stairs and levels
twisting
and turning
halls and rooms
but don't be fooled
my mind is not
a building
my mind is not
a home
in fact
my mind
is where i get
lost the most
I can't find refuge
not even in my own head
Nov 2, 2020
Nov 2, 2020 at 10:17 AM UTC
the walls
rotting
halls
empty
I am stuck
in the place
I can relate to the most
Sep 14, 2020
Sep 14, 2020 at 9:26 AM UTC
These Hallowed Halls
by Michael R. Burch
a young Romantic Poet mourns the passing of an age . . .
I.
A final stereo fades into silence
and now there is seldom a murmur
to trouble the slumber
of these ancient halls.
I stand by a window where others have watched
the passage of time—alone,
not untouched.
And I am as they were
...unsure...
for the days
stretch out ahead,
a bewildering maze.
II.
Ah, faithless lover—
that I had never touched your breast,
nor felt the stirrings of my heart,
which until that moment had peacefully slept.
For now I have known the exhilaration
of a heart that has vaulted the Pinnacle of Love,
and the result of each such infatuation—
the long freefall to earth, as the moon glides above.
III.
A solitary clock chimes the hour
from far above the campus,
but my peers,
returning from their dances,
heed it not.
And so it is
that we seldom gauge Time’s speed
because He moves so unobtrusively
about His task.
Still, when at last
we reckon His mark upon our lives,
we may well be surprised
at His thoroughness.
IV.
Ungentle maiden—
when Time has etched His little lines
so carelessly across your brow,
perhaps I will love you less than now.
And when cruel Time has stolen
your youth, as He certainly shall in course,
perhaps you will wish you had taken me
along with my broken heart,
even as He will take you with yours.
V.
A measureless rhythm rules the night—
few have heard it,
but I have shared it,
and its secret is mine.
To put it into words
is as to extract the sweetness from honey
and must be done as gently
as a butterfly cleans its wings.
But when it is captured, it is gone again;
its usefulness is only
that it lulls to sleep.
VI.
So sleep, my love, to the cadence of night,
to the moans of the moonlit hills’
bass chorus of frogs, while the deep valleys fill
with the nightjar’s shrill, cryptic trills.
But I will not sleep this night, nor any;
how can I—when my dreams
are always of your perfect face
ringed by soft whorls of fretted lace,
framed by your perfect pillowcase?
VII.
If I had been born when knights roamed the earth
and mad kings ruled savage lands,
I might have turned to the ministry,
to the solitude of a monastery.
But there are no monks or hermits today—
theirs is a lost occupation
carried on, if at all,
merely for sake of tradition.
For today man abhors solitude—
he craves companions, song and drink,
seldom seeking a quiet moment,
to sit alone, by himself, to think.
VIII.
And so I cannot shut myself
off from the rest of the world,
to spend my days in philosophy
and my nights in tears of self-sympathy.
No, I must continue as best I can,
and learn to keep my thoughts away
from those glorious, uproarious moments of youth,
centuries past though lost but a day.
IX.
Yes, I must discipline myself
and adjust to these lackluster days
when men display no chivalry
and romance is the "old-fashioned" way.
X.
A single stereo flares into song
and the first faint light of morning
has pierced the sky's black awning
once again.
XI.
This is a sacred place,
for those who leave,
leave better than they came.
But those who stay, while they are here,
add, with their sleepless nights and tears,
quaint sprigs of ivy to the walls
of these Hallowed Halls.
NOTE: I wrote this poem from the window of my freshman dorm at age 18, while watching students returning from rush week parties in the wee hours of the morning. There is also a sonnet version of the poem. In this longer version there are clues that the poet, like Prufrock, is aware of the quaintness of his Romanticism in the modern age. I consider “These Hallowed Halls” to be my Ars Poetica, along with “Poetry.” Keywords/Tags: College, dorm, fraternity, rush, Romantic, unrequited, love, ivy, halls, learning, education, ivory, towers, stereo, music, romance, chivalry, maidens, damsels, knights, kings, monks, hermits, clock, time
Mar 24, 2020
Mar 24, 2020 at 8:18 PM UTC
We fall into
Form fitting pieces
Of one another
Each other's own
Silent feeling
But it is all I want
To sleep still and
Dream unafraid
Aching deeply to
Drum thunder across
Vacant marble halls
Coalescing as the
Texture of the things
We all have
Trouble believing
Though it shows
Aimlessly we go
Out with lanterns
Looking for this thing
We call a soul
Feb 10, 2020
Feb 10, 2020 at 2:43 AM UTC
Down the luminous hallway lined with rough white walls,
murmurs from the students and teachers flowed from the classrooms.
At the end of the seemingly never-ending hall,
A bright red exit sign loomed over the cool stairwell.
Footsteps echoed as we made our way down.
Snow softly dusted down, creating a white hazed view of the world outside the window.
The halls now littered with artwork hung to the walls.
The smell of wood floats about.
Music and machines mix together overlaying the hushed voices.
Down the opposing hall, burnt coffee and the rattling of the kitchen fill the empty space
As footsteps bounce from wall to wall.
The white lights shine off trophies
Screams and squeaks, muted by the walls sound through this hall.
Hums from the dripping fountain mask the voices
Leaving them to be nothing but whispers.
Dec 13, 2018
Dec 13, 2018 at 10:12 AM UTC
i tried to drown out all my sorrows with some iced coffee
i ran with sage around my halls but yet you still haunt me
i holed myself up in my room and said i wasnt there
i still recall the day i lost it all and shorn off my hair
but im still here
im still breathing
i havent stopped living
even though i feel
unalive
Jun 21, 2018
Jun 21, 2018 at 12:38 AM UTC
Why do I find myself alone and trapped
By the four walls around my mind?
I search for some way to scale them
A rope or ladder I never find.
I did not choose to be in this desperate place
Here where my darkest thoughts are kept
The deepest corners are a lair to pain
Dusty crevices long since swept.
Amongst undisturbed sticky cobwebs
Lies a part of me coated in dust
The tortured memories of nightmares past
Don't want to uncover, know deep down I must.
This house built to harbor hatred and hurt
Changed from a home to a prison cell
Halls that used to be a welcome escape
Have instead transformed into an exitless hell.
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 1:44 PM UTC
Where was it I left off? Oh yes, the rebellion of a slave to its master
I Believed my deceitful heart knew the way, but the way to disaster
As the days visited me and went, the colder I grew, and the more beauty fled
I scratched, I punched, I kicked, I hit the doors to try to break them open... and continuously I bled...
My eyes grew white and blind... so I could not see the destruction I was causing to myself and around me...
I was so certain that this hall was the hall where my life would unfold, where I'd find everything I could ever need...
Skin chipped away, muscles scrapped slowly down to the bitter bone... I refused to have anything heal
I made a blood pool mess of pride at the entrance... along with a few puddles of a broken deal...
My God did not leave me though... He was there... but within spirit... but I denied it...I didn't care about my loss of purity
"Do you not have trust?" A young blonde servant whispered, kneeling to my level of insecurity...
"Why continue to make your self suffer when you can rise again?"
"And what reason would I have to rise? My desired fellowship will never amend..."
I intended to be rude to show her kindness and words were not welcome here
"You sound as if our Master is unfair... You doubt him.. you doubt his decisions, His choices, it's that clear..."
"You must be in His favor... To be so hopeful and life filled... Do you even have the slightest taste of suffering?"
Her knees laid in my pool of blood, her blue jeweled eyes stared into mine, my mind constantly puzzling
Closing those sapphires, and reopening them brought forth a vision of her past or tormenting love and tears
" Foolish girl... You're selfish to believe you are alone in this feeling... I was ONCE lock in your cell... Trapped by fear"
"And there are more down another hall who would know that pain all too well... Please... arise and come with me..."
"Why?.... What's the point when I have already fallen and failed and there is no possible better beauty..."
"They can answer your doubts and questions since they have had the same shoes..."
".... but I'm too blinded to even see my self... all I see is strangely you.." I tried to look down... but pain wouldn't allow me to move
"Then I guess you have no choice but to trust me... Do you think you can treat your wounds if you can't even see your own body?"
Anger irrupted inside of me... Only because I know this Blonde was right. So with her guiding hand, I rose to my feet
My soul screaming and shouting... Begging to rebell... but how could I? My body was dying and in defeat...
One warm white skinned arm wrapped around my brittle waist to guide me to the other side of the castle
A trail of blood footprints followed behind me... As I felt the connection between my flesh and the beaten door hassled
Trying to carefully slip away... I could feel the strength in her arm... there was no escape
So off me and this Blonde went... Leaving behind the hall that I want and also, or so I thought, the Hall God had planned and shaped...
Apr 4, 2018
Apr 4, 2018 at 11:15 AM UTC
i promise you i will walk these streets like i own them
if i have to, i will even go walk on the moon like my name is carved on it
i will no longer sink my head, or dreams
my echo will fill the halls that made me feel the smallest
i will speak up, use my voice to break the walls
dive through the hate and grow love
(grow, love)
grow flowers inside each broken soul
water them with assurance that eventually things work out
i will help look for the pieces missing of your heart
i will give you what's left of mine
grab my hand
let's walk these streets like we own them
Jan 7, 2018
Jan 7, 2018 at 6:30 PM UTC
i am what people call
a void
you find me in the darkness
you find me in the skies
in empty halls
in broken souls
maybe in your heart - that's ok
you find me everywhere
the void
you cannot avoid
Jan 7, 2018
Jan 7, 2018 at 4:53 AM UTC
I walk down these empty halls
gazing at the worn out walls
at the memories that I see
wondering what I was meant to be
Walking down this empty street
Averting my gaze from every stranger I meet
I cross the paths of dark and light
but soon the day is blotted out by night
The lights of stars illuminate my path
I kept walking, less I face their wrath
when memories are brought to the surface of my mind
I wish desperately, pleading for them to rewind
back to a day where I could wander these roads
down worn-out paths that no one knows
but alas time has gone so fast
nothing gold, I guess, can last
Sep 18, 2017
Sep 18, 2017 at 8:16 AM UTC
I think that possibly maybe I'm falling for you
Sad part you don't even have a clue
It's me I hollar but you're stuck in your own head
Me I yell but there is no one at the door
Look I say but you're up in your attic
I run searching for you in the halls of your mind and you are searching for something that you'll never find
Turn around I say but my words are whispers carried through the wind
The noise unable to reach you
It's like I don't exist and for a second I stop and look around its my memories playing a trick on me because you really were never there in this attic we both share
but we don't and its my attic that I need to clean out I've got bones under my bed and bats in my head
I forget what I'm doing in this basement walking around the empty spaces
...
Wasn't I in the attic?
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 11:54 PM UTC
Shadows in my hall
They dance amongst my walls
They pirouette through my door
I feel thier dance steps on my floor
The shadow men love to play
They are here to stay
They scream they will never go away
Shadows in my hall
They leave scratches on my wall
They burst through my door
I feel their stomping on my floor
The shadow men are turning mean
They are becoming quite obscene
They are causing an awful scene
Shadows in my hall
They are leaving black marks on my wall
They scream right through my door
I feel their nails clicking on my floor
The shadow men now in my head
They are only there to spread dread
They are only there to be fed
Till at last I'm dead
Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 3:43 PM UTC
the scrapping of rubber shoes
on the pavement alarm me
frantically gliding as if
in search of something
the halls are suddenly
narrower than yesterday
and all the other days before
this always happens
whenever i am rushing
and i am always rushing
so i wonder why i'm always
surprised to find myself this distraught
when its color isn't pretty on me
Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 11:13 PM UTC
*I write poems because it fills my world with stuff,
Stuff that originated from someone who inspired me,
That inspiration makes me feel this is enough,
Enough to be the one who with a pen can set rhymes free,
I find poetry gets famous as long as the writer isn't me.
It's just a thing I've noticed, this word or that one,
Bouncing off of the walls, filling the world with
Fighting, or maybe scrolling blankness in the halls.
It will all develop somehow, this poetic pointless tail,
Maybe I'll be famous, but we all know the truth as well.
I'll just go down in misery-not history-as being "someone,"
A starving poet, a musician, just another stupid useless ***
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 2:14 AM UTC
Squeaky wheel chairs
And graying gray hairs
Walk hand in hand
Down hospital halls
Blinding white lights
And lonely black nights
We pay the cost
Beloved ones lost
Tiled white floors
And black numbered doors
Old painted walls
Line hospital halls
Waiting for doom
Wait in small rooms
Dripping IV’s
And color TV’s
Lunches on trays
And flower displays
Candy machines
And everything’s clean
As I walk down these hospital halls
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 9:50 PM UTC
stars racing towards a planet to hit
way to dosed to focused on this ****
the waterfall runs of orange and pink
Way too distracted, can’t even think
The sprits are running through the walls
getting kicked out of class, now I’m dreaming in the halls
the rabbits, the fishes can’t come to a stop
getting way to blown, I’m in front of a cop
jet planes flying the opposite way
guess I should’ve taken this tab another day
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 5:13 PM UTC