fleeting summer daydream

Hello! Bluuru here! You caught my attention so I decided I NEED to review your work! That's a lot of poems so my mind will probably wander away so sorry for possible spelling or grammar mistakes. English is not my first language!

So.. the first one. "Sounds from the walls."

"sometimes i hear whispers from deep within the floorboards
i wish to ignore them, but they intrigue me
it's almost like you're here with me again
yet i've all but lost my passion
so our reunion
would be
bitter"

This so deep. Talking about the sounds.. make me wonder. Are they real? Is the narrator hallucinating? Or is the narrator in deep loneliness? The narrator can't ignore them, for they are too intrigued. It leaves them wandering away in thoughts about someone probably important. But is quite.. against the reunion, thinking it wouldn't be great, cause they've lost their passion. It's like wishing to be with someone but knowing it would hurt.. Very meaningful.

"sometimes i hear echoes of the past, from tenants and landlords
who have lived upon this wretched home, you see?
it's almost like they've trapped in in this pen
and kept me in a cage-like fashion
now our reunion
will be
cramped"

Again the sounds.. this time echoes of the past. It's like a distant memory which is coming back to your mind again and again and you can't get it out. It just lives there rent free. I love how you made it sound like the narrator is really trapped in memories so the reunion still wouldn't work.

"sometimes i hear sounds from the walls, they often sound like angry hordes
or armies of men who'd like to rid this world of the likes of me
i'd much sooner walk straight into a lion's den
and offer myself to be reduced to rations
so that our reunion
could be
free"

Now.. this sounds like the narrator's memories are really twisted. Hatefull even. It makes me feel this pain. And the end.. The narrator is willing to do literally anything, just to fix how the reunion would go. Beautiful. Trully.

Second one! "fleeting summer daydream"

"it’s very often i remember
those silly daydreams from summers past
(if i daydream about daydreams,
is it a dream or a flashback?)"

Starts innocent! Sounds just like a childhood. But the question is working on me. It's deep and relatable. I love it!

"the windowsill is covered in a layer of dust
but it’s very often i sit and stare
and think about what it was like to share
that layer of dust with someone else
(if i ramble about such unimportant thoughts,
am i a madman in your eyes?)"

It's going deeper. Another mention of memories. And about how the narrator thinks about them often, wanting to be able to share them with someone else. But while thinking about it, the narrator it questioning if it won't make them sound crazy. It's such a small detail but it showed me how insecure and anxious the narrator is. Wondering and being scared about such details. Love it.

"my head, i noticed, is now filled with thoughts of you
perhaps more than before you forgot about me
i’ve never said it aloud, but i’d turn back time
even if it would make you cry so that i won’t cry"

Now the narrator is thinking about someone.. someone who left perhaps? And forgot about the narrator. Innocent memories turned into pain.

"maybe if i try hard enough,
those buried memories could return in their former glory,
rather than remain as a fleeting summer daydream
(if i waste all my life thinking about you,
does that mean i’m in love?)"

Woah.. so deep.. narrator is really trying to stop the pain and focus on good memories while wondering if it's love. It's really beautiful.

Onto the next one! "and with a heavy heart, I regret to say" (btw great title, I admire it)

"it’s gotten a bit harder
to put things in my cabinet drawers
i think my journeys
have led to me becoming a bit of a
hoarder"

Again.. talking about things that bring back memories from the journeys. That says alot about you in a good way! I see the narrator is collecting items as memories.

"i never really pay attention to my cabinet anyway
it’s just there to store my stories and memories"

It makes me think that the narrator stores mamories and items but.. is never looking at them. Never tries to look, feel and rememer. The items are just there.. to be.

"it’s also gotten a bit harder
to remember anecdotes and past missions
but when i look in the cabinet
i can no longer find anything with all this
clutter"

This is again deep. Like a metaphor for having too much on your mind that when you try to remember the right thing.. you simply can't. Too many hurtful memories took over the good ones. Very relatable and deep.

"i’m sure another person in my life won’t change much
(spoiler alert, you changed everything)"

Again, about some person. I love how those poems are different but also they all mean the same.

"my cabinet is filled to the brim
with things i don’t need and things i don’t want.
so now there’s no more room
for you."

Now this is what I said earlier. Looks like a metaphor for having too many hurtful memories and no room for good ones. It's written so well!

Time for "they say every rose has its thorns"

"they say every rose has its thorns
but i’ve never been granted the privilege
of even catching a glimpse of you"

I literally love how it started. This time it looks like a story about someone who caught narrator's attention but has so many walls up that the narrator can't get to that person in the slightest!

"if your walls are so high
and your battalions so strong
then why am i neither a villain nor a hero
in your eyes"

Now the narrator is wondering what are they doing wrong that that person thinks.. nothing about them. I feel it.

"now i listen to inspiring tunes
to get me in the mood of writing
but when the music’s off
all that’s left is me."

It's very deep and relatable. The narrator is trying their best to have a bit of distraction but nothing's working. Narrator is trying their best to be able to write but nothing helps. Nothing works. And the narrator is left alone.

"is it really so selfish to ‘want’?
is it really so evil to make you my own?
maybe i should keep these thoughts to myself
instead of venting my troubles and misguided ideals
to strangers on the internet"

This shows how real and how human this poem is. Literally incredible work with this one!

Time for "moving on. moving out. moving away."

"now i’m singing
lonely tunes to myself
and hearing voices in my head
but really i’m the one speaking"

Great start! The narrator is trying to keep in distraction. Hearing voices who really are just narrator's words!

"when will i
stop this madness?
nothing hurts more than hurt
and self-pity is induced by self"

I love the language you're using here. Sounds so fancy! The narrator is trying to stop hurting. To stop self pitying. But does it work?

"my pencil bag
can’t see my tears
for it’s much too deep
inside my backpack"

Sounds so deep. It could be a metaphor for how people can't see suffering and pain of a human cause they are too deeply focused on other traits, for example they are too focused on how that person is lazy, instead how this person is fighting every morning to even get out of the bed. Might be only my interpretation tho!

"so i guess i’ll
buy some new pencils
but no amount of ink or lead
can cover up my mistakes"

Now that sounds like a metaphor for trying to change people that person is surrounded by, hoping it would change something. But they know that they are too deep in this suffering and nothing can really change.

Time for next one! "arts and crafts"

"shivering, shaking, breaking, broken
now i get less than four hours of sleep
while i weep and keep on trying to keep
you with me; why would you stay with me?"

Starting deep and emotional. Love how many actions and feelings are shown here! The narrator is wondering why is one person still by their side while they are so broken. So relatable and such a human feeling!

"i have nothing left to give, i’m far past denial
and denied my acceptance, all i accept is defeat
and i complain every day."

Now the person is showing defeat while still wondering why is that person still staying when they have nothing left to give! Also a great humanization.

"question: have you ever complained before?
fun fact: it doesn’t make anything better"

I just LOVE the "question:" and "fun fact:". It makes it so special! Really! And meaningful.. saying how venting doesn't work. How talking ine one's problems doesn't make anything better.

"broken, pieces, piecing, together, something
new and improved, or so i’d like to say
but after you’ve cut apart a human
it can never retain its original shape"

Omg this is my favourite part. Saying how someone or something (probably feelings) broke the narrator, trying to form somethimg better. But now, the broken narrator can't go back.

Time for "conclusion"!

"when will i make my final friend?
i’m still eluded from the conclusion
in my delusion, i haven’t found the end
to my sonnet, but i’m still on it"

I love the form you're using here! It makes the poem sound so good! Incredible work! I'm amazed! And again with all the wondering and questions. Truly meaningful.

"i think my rhymes have gotten annoying
but really i’m just toying with the notion
that my ocean of words could form herds
of something other than nightmares"

This is so deep. The narrator is scared that they are annoying with their words cause now they are trying to form something other nightmares. Love it!

"i found villains in bright lairs
rather than ominous ones
yet the predominant ones
still managed to escape from me"

I really like how different this poem is from the rest. There's so many action! Such an amazing thing to read and enjoy.

"so now my nonsense which has reached
a fever pitch has bleached my room
and killed the groom, but left the bride
and now she’s all alone

on the phone with a devil
so disheveled and crying
dying, lying to herself
and no longer binds herself

to her earthly desires
and finds the flames and fires
so now she writes mediocre poetry"

It's so chaotic and changing with each stanza! And I really love it! It's great this way! And I just gotta say I LOVE how this last poem starts and ends. The "(for now, we have reached the)/(end.)" is really something I've fallen in love with!

I really love how most of those poems were about similar things but then the last one was just different!

You're doing an amazing job! You're truly talented! Keep it up! I'd love to review more of your works! I'm glad I could read it.

Hello, great poet! It's CATS here to review your collection of poems! I would be going through every single one and giving it an opinion, so hang with me.
Sounds From The Walls

sometimes i hear whispers from deep within the floorboards
i wish to ignore them, but they intrigue me
it's almost like you're here with me again
yet i've all but lost my passion
so our reunion
would be
bitter

sometimes i hear echoes of the past, from tenants and landlords
who have lived upon this wretched home, you see?
it's almost like they've trapped in in this pen
and kept me in a cage-like fashion
now our reunion
will be
cramped

sometimes i hear sounds from the walls, they often sound like angry hordes
or armies of men who'd like to rid this world of the likes of me
i'd much sooner walk straight into a lion's den
and offer myself to be reduced to rations
so that our reunion
could be
free

it’s very often i remember
those silly daydreams from summers past
(if i daydream about daydreams,
is it a dream or a flashback?)

the windowsill is covered in a layer of dust
but it’s very often i sit and stare
and think about what it was like to share
that layer of dust with someone else
(if i ramble about such unimportant thoughts,
am i a madman in your eyes?)

my head, i noticed, is now filled with thoughts of you
perhaps more than before you forgot about me
i’ve never said it aloud, but i’d turn back time
even if it would make you cry so that i won’t cry

maybe if i try hard enough,
those buried memories could return in their former glory,
rather than remain as a fleeting summer daydream
(if i waste all my life thinking about you,
does that mean i’m in love?)

it’s gotten a bit harder
to put things in my cabinet drawers
i think my journeys
have led to me becoming a bit of a
hoarder

i never really pay attention to my cabinet anyway
it’s just there to store my stories and memories

it’s also gotten a bit harder
to remember anecdotes and past missions
but when i look in the cabinet
i can no longer find anything with all this
clutter

i’m sure another person in my life won’t change much
(spoiler alert, you changed everything)

my cabinet is filled to the brim
with things i don’t need and things i don’t want.
so now there’s no more room
for you.

they say every rose has its thorns
but i’ve never been granted the privilege
of even catching a glimpse of you

if your walls are so high
and your battalions so strong
then why am i neither a villain nor a hero
in your eyes

now i listen to inspiring tunes
to get me in the mood of writing
but when the music’s off
all that’s left is me.

is it really so selfish to ‘want’?
is it really so evil to make you my own?
maybe i should keep these thoughts to myself
instead of venting my troubles and misguided ideals
to strangers on the internet

now i’m singing
lonely tunes to myself
and hearing voices in my head
but really i’m the one speaking

when will i
stop this madness?
nothing hurts more than hurt
and self-pity is induced by self

my pencil bag
can’t see my tears
for it’s much too deep
inside my backpack

so i guess i’ll
buy some new pencils
but no amount of ink or lead
can cover up my mistakes

shivering, shaking, breaking, broken
now i get less than four hours of sleep
while i weep and keep on trying to keep
you with me; why would you stay with me?

i have nothing left to give, i’m far past denial
and denied my acceptance, all i accept is defeat
and i complain every day.

question: have you ever complained before?
fun fact: it doesn’t make anything better

broken, pieces, piecing, together, something
new and improved, or so i’d like to say
but after you’ve cut apart a human
it can never retain its original shape

I love it. It is sooo sick.
Girl, you are a born poet.
How do you manage to write poems when poems seem impossible to me.
Maybe I should start writing poems too.
To be honest, you have inspired me.