When our days are done
And every reign has gone
The land will till
And days will still,
Our lives fly thence
And every tense reign, whence
We get to know our scores
And make us the characters of the cores,
We stand to report our case
In the transparent base
Some are prepared for the feast
While others for the beast.
Review Request Direction:
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft
Comments
Nice piece
like the stanza form, and the thoughts/imagery.
a suggestion: replace one of the words "score" in S2. you've used it twice-twice in that stanza