Revisiting your work, and although this is very much a step up from the original, your writing has progressed in such a lovely & captivating way one year since.
My opinion shouldn't matter. I just really enjoy reading your poetry.
Bless.
Anticipation cracks through the air like
the taut silence before fireworks --
broken by the hesitant song of the crickets,
the quiet murmuring of the crowd.
Our tense bodies with hearts drumming an uneven rhythm
and lungs pumping shallow breaths, are the fuses that
lie with unassuming stillness. We wait for a single match, the
opening note. It will quiet the droning bugs and still the waves
that softly lap against the dock, an audience
inevitably drawn towards the stage.
There is harmony to our anxiety and excitement --
we are scared by the falling ashes of the Roman
candles but allured by the flashing blinding colours that
will splash an awe-inspiring story against the black
canvas of heavy velvet curtains.
Then finally, the show is lit by a simple chord progression
and an arpeggio spills forth, filling the theatre with the quiet
pops of Bees soon amplified into roaring Lady Fingers with
7th chords and glorious crescendos as
we combust into choreography, graceful like the waves and
mighty like the M-80s and unpretentious and glorious and beautiful --
Emotions lap the edges of the stage, ebbing and
flowing and surging until the waves are a reflection of
the booming sky, and they flood the audience
with water and singe them with bright sparks of colour.
Dancing explosions draw a story
against the dark heavens, illuminated by the moon,
spotlights that trace the swirls of light.
We are all consumed by colours, the music;
lost in this deafening echo of life.
One last cherry bomb erupts, then the fireworks die,
the lights go down, the curtains fall -- our masks crumble
to our feet like confetti, and hidden by midnight curtains
from the crickets that have resumed their chirping,
we blaze into sparklers, our own private show;
fueled by flames of adrenaline and joy, clutching at limbs,
sending cheers into the empty night sky.
Colourful light cast by the fireworks that spun across the
stage, is just as illuminating as the stars in the sky, only
heightened by drama. Yet nothing is more palpable
than the lightning that flickers between castmates
when we know that the musical erupted with more than just
complementary colours, but every tone in the rainbow.
Revisiting your work, and although this is very much a step up from the original, your writing has progressed in such a lovely & captivating way one year since.
My opinion shouldn't matter. I just really enjoy reading your poetry.
Bless.
Hi, watcha! Today I'm going to be leaving a brief review of your poem!
I love the imagery you portray, along with the flow. The detail is very well done and apart from a few lines that feel rather lacklustre, this is pretty well done!
The first thing I would like to mention is the amount of times you mention fireworks, I mean, it is a very good metaphor but maybe switching it out for some other colorful things. There are also a lot of double hyphens, no consistency to them and it makes the poem feel a tad bit scattered. 
One thing I feel could be better is the ending, it leaves me on a rather hollow note, it doesn't feel like the strings have all been tied up.
But I really enjoy your style and love your work, it is very well done! Keep writing!
Jade
Hey, whatcha! I don't recall having reviewed your work before, so here I am!
I'm going to save the positive feedback for the end, alright? Before I begin, I am sorry if my review seems too critical. Just trying to write you a good review!
On with it, then.
In the very first stanza, there was a clash between the images/feelings. One feels like the silence tense with anticipation, but the other feels like a comfortable silence broken by soft sounds. I don't know how to explain it better than that, but to me it felt contradictory.
and lung pumping shallow breaths
are the fuses that
lay with unassuming stillness.
It will quiet the droning bugs and still the waves
that softly lap against the dock, an audience
inevitably drawn towards the stage.
our masks crumble
to our feet like confetti
clutching at limbs,
Dancing explosions draw a story
against the dark heavens, illuminated by the moon,
spotlights that trace the swirls of light.
We are all consumed by colours, the music;
lost in this deafening echo of life.
Hey, @whatchamacallit Flames here with a review! Before we start I think I should let you know I haven't reviewed in a while so if this isn't so good I'm sorry ahead of time. Lol Anyway I'll try and do my best!
Okay let jump right into it shall we?
So as I read through the poem I could only find one thing that seemed a little out, I could just be me but I thought I might as well mention it.
we are scared by the falling ashes of the Roman
candles but allured by the flashing blinding colours that
will splash an awe-inspiring story against the black
canvas of heavy velvet curtains.
.
Remember this isn't a big thing and it could just be me. 
120,202 Literary Works • 649,059 Reviews
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