London Dreams

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London Dreams
She has collapsed
into the dark night,
my own Lady Diana.
I stare at her
cascading complexion,
caressing the features
that her mother carved
like a Michelangelo masterpiece.

Stevie Wonder fills my head:
I just called to say
I Love You. The chorus
echoes softly in my ears,
as I dream of London lights
illuminating the traffic of our hearts.
"Don't bother just to be better than your contemporaries or predecessors. Try to be better than yourself." William Faulkner.

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I'm a little confused. Hold on I'm going to read it again. I still don't get the point, but I do like parts of it.
that her mother carved
like a Michelangelo masterpiece.

This, for example. But, aren't you suppose to capitalize the first letter of every line? I'm not a real big poet (I dabble) but that I'm pretty sure of.
"Having an eye for beauty isn't the same thing as a weakness except possibly when it comes to you."
"I just want to spend every possible minute of the rest of my life with you"
"I realize only one person will be damaged beyond repair if Peeta dies. Me"




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Hmm . . . well, it's pretty, that's for sure, but pretty doesn't necessarily make a good poem. I don't get what it means, either. It seems like the first stanza is an ode to London itself, and the last bit has the same feel. Ohhhh, wait, I get it. The Stevie Wonder part is distracting. It made me think you (the person in the poem) were calling your boyfriend or girlfriend or whatever to say I love you, and it didn't fit. I think if you edit that part a bit, you'll have a much better poem. either take it out entirely (it's weird to have one little bit inside the narrator's ehad and the rest outside it) or make it clearer that the I love you bit is song lyrics. Or better yet, chose song lyrics that better fit London.

As I've written this critique, my respect for the poem has grown. Keep writing, I'll keep reading!

over and out
“To awaken quite alone in a strange town is one of the pleasantest sensations in the world.” - Freya Stark




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hmmm so it TWAS you who killled princess dianna!! and while listening to billy joel no less! im reporting you. no jk lol.. or am i.
purple bunnies hop at midnight




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Wow....this is very nice. The imagery is quite good. However, I felt that it could be improved into a better piece.
I was a bit confused with the ending. After the 'I Love You' part, I felt that the last few lines were kinda rushed and hasty. And yes, the 'I Love You' line doesn't really fit the last stanza.
Well, this is all, but don't despair, you have done a good job. 7 out of 10.
Good luck and keep writing!
Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst.




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I like the way it sounds a lot. I know that words are supposed to have meaning, but if I just hear the words like notes rather than words, it sounds perfect. I like the imagery, and the places my head goes when I see the words. The title is good because the poem, to me, moves kind of like a dream. What I mean by that is, while I read it, I did not thorougly grasp its meaning, but for some reason I was following it.
Thanks for listening.




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A rather clever poem about Lady Diana's death, am I right? Only she died in Paris :/
I really enjoyed the meter of this poem, it had a lovely pace - somewhat like a waltz haha


She has collapsed
into the dark night,
my own Lady Diana.

This had a lovely rhythm. I particularly like your use of "collapsed", it gives a very visceral feel.


cascading complexion,

You clearly know some beautiful words, but do you know how to use them properly? a complexion, being skin quality and pigment by its very nature cannot cascade...even meant in a metaphorical way, it doesn't make much sense.

Love
Kris
x




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wow i had to read this like three times to get it... sorry. :smt001

yeah um so to me it sounds like a love song which is nice but i feel like it has no depth at all.

At first it actually seems like it's gonna be sad because she "collapses" as you so gallantly put it. but there's no sorrow at all. to me it came across as a happy, romantic poem. the death doesn't fit in there.
"It is a dull mind that can think of only one way to spell a word."




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So...

I liked the first stanza.
Not so much the second.

The second felt very flimsy and somewhat cliche. I'm trying to find example lines from it, but I realized that every line is basically either cliche or awkward or passe.

Stevie Wonder fills my head:

This is cliche. It's like a filler--it has nothing to do with this poem except, I guess, one of his songs inspired you or something. "fills my head"? Uh-uh. CLICHE.

I just called to say
I Love You.

I just to called to say I love you. Where have I heard that before? Everywhere.

The chorus
echoes softly in my ears,

:( Echoes?

as I dream of London lights

Okay, okay, less cliche... but I have to say, I have also written the same line in a different poem, accept London was Israeli. I mean, it was word for word.

illuminating the traffic of our hearts.

NOOO! CLICHHHEEEE!

Okay. I think you should just rewrite the second stanza, because the first was WONDERFUL!
my world isn't only beautiful
it is so far away




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I really liked this and I sorta kinda get it.
Ok, so you're in London and you're looking at a painting of the late princess Diana and the painter is like the mother because he or she gave birth to such beautiful colors and palettes and then you think of someone you love and this Stevie Wonder song runs through your mind because you're far away from your love and you two are obviously very much into each other because if your hearts race like traffic under London lights then its certainly extraordinary. All and all I guess you're trying to capture the fact that love is love no matter where its at: in dreams or reality. Whatever I said might make any sense whatsoever but I gave it my shot. Well anyways, favorite lines

The chorus

echoes softly in my ears,

as I dream of London lights

illuminating the traffic of our hearts.

I love these lines because they wrap up the poem nicely and they flow perfectly.
All in all, good job

-Angel
True love, in all it’s celestial charm, and
star-crossed ways, only exist in a writer’s
mind, for humans have not yet learned
how to manifest it.



A classic is a book which people praise and don't read.
— Mark Twain