November--Gold Beneath Your Feet

Waiting for the perfect day
You plan to pass my town
this way. I go on-line and pay
To see your splendid crown
In my head I clearly see
You standing on the stage
Serenading just to me
Perfection on a page
Those other girls do not see you
They swoop, they swoon, oh ever shrill
They do not know you like I do
I will be always yours until
That day they have some other hit
Thinking of you, I will, mark it.

This poem is a Shakespearean sonnet in iambic pentameter. It is a satirical poem mocking people who are ignorantly over-obsessive about strangers, like famous people. For me, it has always been a bit of a pet peeve when someone likes something/one just because everyone else does and vice versa. It is about someone who has deluded themselves into being infatuated with a famous musician of sorts and believes that her obsession is different from all the other screaming fans. The wording was a little difficult because having to rhyme as well as worry about syllables and stresses of words. I played around with some alliteration, "plan to pass", "see your splendid", "standing on the stage", "perfection on a page", and "they swoop, they swoon, oh ever shrill". There is assonance as well: "they swoop, they swoon", "standing on the stage", waiting for the perfect day", and "plan to pass". I add a hyperbole to exaggerate the perfection of the musician "Serenading just to me; Perfection on a page" and "splendid crown". The splendid crown refers to the performer's face, their crown, as well as the imagining of a crown atop their head. At the end there is the little twist in the couplet where the girl kind of falters because it hints on how she probably won't be the hugely loyal and special fan/admirer that she is. This ties into my theme of an autobiographical last year of feelings and events because there would be mobs of ridiculous girls screaming and doing whatever possible to get closer to the stage and performers.