Peeling Dreams

I know it's a bit rough around the edges, so any help would be appreiciated
~
Peeling Dreams
~
Lazy summer haze
infects the pathways and alleys of this town
a yearly disease, and our cue to come alive
~
Photo-shoot sky, Backlit clouds
stumbling slovenly across the pastel blue
like unruly schoolchildren idling their days away
as we did, content with being
who the world told us we couldn’t, intoxicated on freedom
at least for these sun-bleached days
life’s haunting pressures just children’s stories
designed to scare, to make us care
about our actions and consequence.
But we re-wrote the rules and revelled in the present.
~
Today, the town is fading, greying at the edges
the painted dreams are peeling, like old photographs
of times we can never re-visit
the artists have lost their inspiration;
future came and stole the spark from their eyes
~
Now I long for the days
midnight fire-light
burning beacons casting faces
in soft orange, we would lay on our backs
gazing into the charcoal slab of night sky
and pretend we could touch the Stars.

Oy, I thought peeling dreams was a part of the poem, since you seperated each stanza with a ~.
Photo-shoot sky? It's flashing? That is a little werid because it's also can be seen as the sky posing, which would be pretty funny if you ask me.

Sun-bleached days, didn't you just say it was stormy? When did it clear up?

[quote]of times we can never re-visitthe artists have lost their inspiration;future came and stole the spark from their eyes[quote] You may want some punctuation there. To help clear it up when reading it.

And I liked your ending. And the stars referance and the photograph-ness.

Good job, keep writing.

Silented1.

Hi Halycon! Here by request!

So what I think is that this poem got better toward the end. The beginning stanza was a little... boring, even, because even though it was technically decent, I just always get thrown off when one says "summer" talking about summer. In poetry, I mean. It's just so gratuitous to me. You have the whole world of poetry in front of you and the ability to choose any word from the vast English language (or any language you write your poetry in) to describe summer in, and you go with... summer? Don't worry, though, because this is not the worst I've seen by any means. It's just... something to think about.

designed to scare, to make us care
about our actions and consequence.

Consequences, maybe? I also don't think very highly of the sudden rhyme there.

Well, that's just one nit-pick and this is not much of a critique, because in general I really liked this poem and your imagery. The two last stanzas are my favourite. The word "charcoal" is lovely, by the way. I've always liked it. Well done, keep writing!


Demeter
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