Juliet

Standing there, eyes wide open,
The world is at my feet.
I openly grasp and cherish the moment
Of palm against sandy stone,
Of paper mache and of plaster paints.
The hands brush the knobbly railing.
-Those hands that are not mine,
But borrowed for tonight and the next,
Till I become weary of my glamour,
Of the tumbling words that flow as smoothly...
As water running over those sandy stones.

But the light up above shall shine, they burn my eyes,
The railing will suffice for me,
The balcony was called to my plea.
My silent cue was acknowledged.
Broken those tears that fall down my face,
The face covered in a mask,
Not of my own making.

My voice will turn lilting as the speech dwindles on,
As people grow restless with their ropes,
So then will I tumble as he calls my name,
Into his arms, those arms do not hold.
They hold not me.
They hold not me....

But of an apparition of my own making,
Of the tears and the voice,
And the sweet calling face.
He will laugh with joy as expected of me.
And of course, I will reply.
For I will be good.
Good defined in making,
Of his desperate charm of magic,
Taking place for the next interlude.
During my next act and of his alone,
Behind the draping of crimsons,
We shall cease to be lovers.
He was never my Romeo,
And me his beloved Juliet.

But the story of Cameron and Tod
Is not the glamorous one the crowd seeks.
But they don't see what happens,
When the magic ceases to be.
For behind the curtain there is no magic.
There is not plain desire and hope.
It remains in me and my Romeo,
Left behind on that sandy stone.

Of papermache and of plaster paints.

The hands brush the knobaly railing.

-Those hands that are not mine,

But borrowed for tonight and the next,

Till I become weary of my glamour,

Of the tumbling words that flow as smoothly...

As water running over those sandy stones.

I believe paper mache is two words, not to mention the missing accent that I can't seem to conjure up. Also, what did you mean by 'knobaly'? Knobbly? Knobby? I should think, however, that a railing would be smooth unless the narrator was either at the top or bottom where they sometimes have knobs. -nodnod-

A little punctuation problem in here as well, either put the double dash after 'railing' or perhaps simply say 'those hands are not mine', though I don't think that's quite as eloquent. Also the ellipsis seems out of place and should probably just be removed. ^_^

But the light will shine and burn my eyes,
The railing will suffice for me,
The balcony was called to my plea.
My silent cue was aknowledged.

Are you referring to perhaps the light of a room in another area or the light of outside? It was unclear in that first line what light you were referring to and why the railing would be a more desirable place to stay. Secondly, the last two lines in this don't really make sense. Was the balcony pleading for the narrator to visit it? Was its silent plea what the narrator acknowledged {mind the spelling there}? Please make this more clear. ^_^ I do like the next line about the mask that is not of the narrator's making. It's great, relevant imagery.

My voice will turn lilting as the speech dwindles,
As my people grow restless with their ropes,
So then will I tumble as he calls my name,
Into his arms, those arms do not hold.

Speech... turning voices? Again, some things here don't make sense though they sound nice. What people and what ropes? Perhaps I'm just missing something, but in any case perhaps rather than 'those arms do not hold', stick with the form you used earlier and say 'those arms which do not hold'?

But of an apparation of my own making,
Of the tears and the voice,
And the sweet calling face.
He will laugh with joy as expected of me.
And of course, I will reply.
For I will be good.
Good defined in making,
Of his desperate charm of magic,
In the next passings.
During my next act and his alone,

I had a lot of trouble with this part. First of all you start the sentence with saying 'of something'... then I keep waiting for the verb and action of the sentence. It should be 'apparition', as well. Then you say HE will laugh with joy as expected of ME. Either his laughter is expected of him, the narrator's laughter is expected of HER, or SHE expects the laughter FROM him. -shrugs-

And what do you refer to as 'passings?' What is 'his alone'? A lot of questions unanswered.

The last stanza is relatively clear and portrays a feeling of longing as if perhaps the narrator wishes it were the act that goes on in FRONT of the curtains to be the reality. ^_^ Still a good piece of work, just needs some cleaning up.

Oh dear, this was beautiful. Definitely a gold star.

What is knobaly? Typo?


This particularly caught me. The repitition was right on amazing. They added so much to the intensity in this part.

Into his arms, those arms do not hold.
They hold not me.
They hold not me....

A fantastic end to a fantastic poem.

For behind the curtain there is no magic.
There is not plain desire and hope.
It remains in me and my Romeo,
Left behind on that sandy stone.

I have nothing to critic here, I believe. This really was a great piece.