My Fallen Troubadour

Ok, I wrote this in a big hurry for wisemann's poetry contest, so it's pretty bad. I think I was trying too hard. anyways, here ya go (oh, and also, I'm really bad at punctuation, so yea) ...(and the rhythm's all jacked up)

My Fallen Troubadour

It was his magic;
rising, falling, without choice,
Bringing Rome to life again:
his heart, his soul- his voice.

Heavenly notes, and tormenting words,
the boy quickly rose to fame.
But my love was a lowly pauper,
and singing was his only claim.

Then, before the Revolution,
(before our love began)
his voice was changed forever,
and he became a man.

...And in a bare, and darkened room,
he now sings to only me.
No more life of Rome,
and none of Italy.

He croons his love of me
in the soft candlelight.
We lay naked, side by side,
and he is mine tonight.

This is lovely. It flows well and you handle the rhyming scheme effectively.

I'd put "rising" in the first line as I think it will help it to flow a little better. I'd also cut the "it was" before line four.

I love "torment in each word" but I think that this line as a whole is too long. I love the oxymoron, so maybe try something like;
"Blessed torment in each word,
he quickly rose to fame."

I love stanza three. It's so beautifully simple, and flows perfectly.

I think that stanza four is a little clunky. I'd try something like;

"And in a bare and darkened room
he sings only to me,
no more songs of Rome,
and none of Italy."

I love;
"and he is mine tonight."
It's a great final line.

A pleasure to read. Hope this helps.

Jas

aah, get right on it thanks

-ash