by demure101
to be honest, not really my type
Solemnities performed, the ecstasy of flames/my white robes smeared, as if some major change has happened from #1, maybe this is not part of the series.I am not here to talk about poetry per se. Yours are good, a shame the poobahs of formalism are not here. But, if anyone can generate this much thought-out poetry, surely that person can generate a bit of thought-out criticism. Your comments are extremely lightweight, lighter than Tazz's, what gives?
All of your poetry is very linear, formal and the language not especially exiting, as such I have five centuries of better to chose from, and as such I have a tendency to see where you are going with it, now if any tricks with metre are being performed I invite you to go to the threads and illustrate them.
Best and 5ed of course.
For good? Shall I say it? ... Okay, I won't! :))
To the poem, then. The priest ("white robes") wondering what's the point of the ceremony? That's a sad thing, to come to question what before was certain, particularly if that certainty had become your bedrock.