Oblivious

[jtrom1010]

Thank you very much!

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This is my first post in these forums, and honestly the first bit of poetry I've put effort into for a long time. Please tear it apart as much as possible. Piece is directed towards someone who has inspired me endlessly for years.

You are so oblivious, so painfully unaware. so so is not so-so. They should go as they are purposeless modifiers. Nonetheless, I like statemental openers because they stand alone...that may seem paradoxical but there is nothing wrong with a clear starting point to run from. We shall see.
Your insight and your intellect...they mean nothing here. Again, too good to be true, another clear line which pulls the enquiring mind forward. Where are we? Who is "you"?
But I promise, my dear, Boing! Does "dear" rhyme with "here"? Ooooo! Yes......goody. A forced and unnecessary rhyme, to boot. Lose it. It is a weak point and will cause failure, if not now, then later.
that before the sun retreats behind the mountains ....as Hiawatha might have observed...a cliche....but the hell with it...they are few thus far.
on our final day together,
I will teach you to read poetry. Something "nice" about this and I mean that. Is this where the poem begins?

Poetry is born from a delicate dance, Reality check. "born from" or "born of" or "born out of". Your poem. "out of" for me.
when sensory experience and raw emotion
step perfectly in time with a beat that
resonates from the tip of a pen; No dissent here. Nicely observed and described.  Credit always where due. Credit
It lives forever in the echoes of voices
reading aloud its words,
intertwining with the ardor they created; Period. You have written a sentence

It is a conflagration;
its kindling is the gentle kisses of tides on the shore,Though  struggling to be technically correct "is the gentle kisses" would better be "..is the gentle kiss of tides..."
the peaks that puncture the ceiling of clouds above, "above", particularly after peaks, ceiling and clouds,is superflous
the lingering scent of romance on empty sheets,
or the thrill of lips reuniting after a night apart,
waiting only for a spark of inspiration to ignite them. Bloody marvellous. Envy

But you haven't the slightest clue
that you are that spark,
fervent enough to set ablaze this city,
and engulf the world in smoke.
When you finally realize that the words I've written
exist only because your lungs breathed life into my landscapes,
and your heart whispered light from the east
that bled ink onto the shadows of pages in the west,

Only then will you fully understand poetry;
Only then will you know what it means to be loved by a writer. Overcome. Cannot crit on

Nothing else to say. All said.
Well done,
tectak[/b][/b]

Very very helpful feedback thank you!