London Time

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Time is such a tricky thing

my day begins and yours comes to an end.

The seconds fly by, vanishing into eternity.

Alone, seeking, longing,

it's what I am.



Every now and again

I gaze at the stars and think of you

looking up at them too.

But your sun starts to rise

and we are worlds apart.



I wonder if you think of time

and how it steals our lives away

with every ticking of the clock.

But you where never one to stop,

you make your own time.



I sit and wait and wait and wait

and think about the time I'm losing.

Then I think about you and realize

that life is ticking away and joy will never come find me.

I must seek it out myself, before time runs out.
Last edited by PandaRawr on Tue Aug 09, 2011 6:40 pm, edited 2 times in total.
When you turn to face the sun, all of the shadows fall behind you.
I used to be Writer97 but that was boring so I changed it. PandaRawr is more me.




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I like this. There are some tiny nitpicky things, like in one instance where you substituded the word "were" with "where" and another where you had a run-on, although run-ons are sometimes okay in poetry. But I like how you pondered time and talked about the difference of time zones and everything. I liked the line about how you look at the stars while the sun came up for what I'm guessing is your love interest. I also liked the rhythm of it. The syllabic content of each line was pretty balanced. Overall, nice poem. Keep it up, and I hope my review helps. :)
"It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to, than I have ever known..." A Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens.




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I love the symbolism of this poem and the personal depth you put into it. But I think you need to clarify this line: "The seconds fly by gone into eternity." I can't tell whether it's grammatical error or on purpose. Also, captitalize the beginning word of a new stanza, otherwise it confuses the reader and looks sloppy. The flow was nice and it was a balanced, solid poem. The metaphors were original and impressive. Keep it up!
Sincerely,
Klotrox
In memory of 1411




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I'm a little surprised at your choice of spacing throughout the poem. It isn't technically a nitpick, I was just curious as to why you chose it. The poem in itself was good although you need to look over your spelling in certain instances - just simple mistakes or typos, those things we love to hate.
I liked the message this poem gives out and it's clear you've thought about it a lot.
Good job!



It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tube-shaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats—the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill —The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it—and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another.
— JRR Tolkien