Drunk with faults
I have drunk with faults,
whose essence is to form things like itself;
fiend and freakish, wicked and wretched.
It is like bath in fiery floods,
it is like imprisoned in viewless winds;
and blown with skittish severity round about depelete intelligence.
It is like worse than worst,
when in certain thoughts, and when through faults.
Skald Quill Carry
Style / Type:
Western Classic
Review Request (Intensity):
I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
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?
Language:
English
