This is definitely interesting; it's really good. I like the connections you make with the Earth and such. I'll have to read some of your other stuff; props to Kezkay (I found the link on her bio; isn't that creepily long story whose title I have forgotten great? I'm spacey right now and I'm horrible with names -) for spreading the word about ya.

I hadn't reviewed this, and decided it would be intelligent to do so before I read Night Lights II. So here I am. : p
'feather heat' is oen of those things that feed a very vivid sensory emmory into my head, though often it's wrapped around my thighs instead. So I knew exactly what you meant.
The mentions of fabric whetted my senses ... I have an obsession with texture. And fabric. And the things you can do with both ...
Then it felt like a bridge between overland urban glow and inner core of Earth ... interesting link. I love the random rhythm. It sort of loiters, making a show here and there, not conforming. (Yay! lol) 'spluttering through the leaves and city dirt of the drain.' - everyone is caught up in the pretty tinkling cleanliness of rain and things; it felt good, a solid real sort of good, to see it reminded in one of its more graceless fashions, what with the spluttering and leaves and drain dirt.
And YAY! DROP INTO THE DAK! :D
I love the last two lines. Apart from making the poem personal to Oxford (I love personalisations), it fits. Warmth and dreams and rain.
I do believe I am now in the mood to hibernate or similar.
This is not good. I have just woken up and should be getting ready to leave.
Hmph.
Yummy stuff. Toasty warm and sleepy-headed. Glowy.

Change habits... NOW! I love your poetry... So... E...

That was lovely.

Beautiful imagery. I was posting my own poem called "Night Lights" and saw that you had the same title _~ so I had to read it. I'm glad I did.

Great work. Keep writing!

Jess 0:o)

Oh - I love the ending - it's perfect.

Damn your skill - I hate being jealous of people I don't know - it upsets the balance of my day! :p

Diana xx

I like poetry, poetry good, although by talking that way im not really making my attempt of convincing you very convincing. Oh well, convinced or not, wierd or not, i like your poem. Dont give up writing poetry, its obvious it helps to ease your thoughts a little. Take it from someone er...wiser.

Ahem, anywho, keep up the good work, your fictions not that bad either i have to say, but i didnt review them because my fingers are getting tired from typing my lengthy review. Maybe some other time...

Glastonbury

~ I really love this!

You really have the gift of words.

It made me want to sleep outside where I can see the stars. Thi8s will be one of my favorites.

c. butterfly~**

You had better believe that I'm going to try and change your mind. Your poetry is absolutley beautiful.

However you must remember one thing, poetry is the expression of a persons soul.

If your poetry is this beautiful then your soul must be equally so. I have come to cherish the beauty of that soul as a close friend, one that I hope will never leave. I never, ever want to hear you place doubt on yourself. You are a beautiful poet and a beautiful person.

P.S. I hope the E-Mail I sent you helps you through your time of uncertainty.

Psh. Well of course it seems strange, but give it time, dear. You'll see _-

I can't admire your poetry enough. And I still don't understand why you didn't try this sooner.

And of COURSE people were nice about your last poem. Who couldn't be?

Hm. Anyways, this poem. A little dark and cold but shimmers around the edges with something magical. Also something kind of deep. Underground caves somewhere in Northern Alaska. Pure cold frozen into icicles that could pierce mortal hearts.

And all this from listening to the rain?

I do believe I am incredibly jealous. _-