Love On The Fringe

As the Canonized and ordained
Refuse the virtues of a progressive grain
Lasting salvation, in this, is wrought
While from the pulpit, passion is fought
For the final feighed dance of Dogma
The stance of Romance lasts the longer

As a standing oath to passion born
We weather the stigma of scarlet scorn
For I, the rouge adulterous letter
For themselvesa heart of tanning leather
When the infastructure of society
And the stringent rules of piety
Fall into the chaotic din of dirges
Where the repressed and holy merges
They will grant the carnal aspect of our love
And we will fall into the arms of doves

I have found divinity cannot satisfy
The beast who lives by love and sighth
Who is denied to be fufilled
Compelled to be tame and to be stilled
But love is a natural trick
Used when silver tounges grow sick

Just as the lord fell victim to a kiss
Under the midnights bloody mist
So to do our kisses bring the scorn
Of the mortal, earthly born

Hey there, welcome to YWS! I'm June, it's great to see you here.

Before I begin, I just want to let you know that YWS has a 2:1 ratio policy which means that for every one piece of work you submit, you should complete two reviews prior to your submission.


Here are some things I want to point out:

For the final feighed dance of Dogma

I believe this should be "feigned"?

For themselvesa heart of tanning leather

You need a space between themselves and a.


And!

The beast who lives by love and sighth

I believe that should be sight, dear?

When the infastructure of society

This should be infrastructure, dear. Missing an R there.

Who is denied to be fufilled

fufilled should be fulfilled, dear.

Used when silver tounges grow sick

tounges should be tongues, dear.

- - - - -- - --


So!

I think you have done an excellent job here. It was rather religious sounding, which was absolutely wonderful to read.

I think you have done a supremely wonderful job with rhyme here; I don't really know how you pulled it off so well, although there were a few places where things could be polished up. I think you did a wonderful job.


I'd love to see more of your work around here. Good job on this! Welcome to YWS!

June

LoveOnTheFringe,


You have a good handle on rhyme and meter, but I don't see either of those as productively offering anything to this poem. What it does contribute seems to me to be empty posturing; in using rhymes, the poem is making claims to legitimacy within a tradition that is certainly not "modern" or contemporary. Instead, it pushes us back to Victorian and Renaissance-era poetry (the Hawthorne reference seems to confirm this).

I don't understand what's gained by that. It feels more like a trick than anything else. The content of the poem is also fairly disjointed. The last two strophes don't seem connected to themselves or each other, and they're only vaguely related to all that preceded them. I don't know how "silver tongues grow sick" is connected to a "beast ... / compelled to be tame and to be stilled," nor do I understand how "the lord" falling victim to a kiss is anything like the modern(?) love despised by mortals.

The poem clunks along under the weight of the venues it opens but doesn't pursue (who is the lord? what is the beast (love? a trick?)? what relevance does Hawthorne have? and the religious overtures?). My advice is to pare this back to its base and toss the rhyme scheme for future drafts.


Best,
Brad


PS rhyming "love" and "doves" typifies this as beginner's work. Look around at other poems here and elsewhere, then compare them with the work of published/professionals to get a sense of what is "good" and what is "bad" poetry.