A thousand lives my lance did take
a thousand slain upon its bloody tip
moaning sighing in my wake
a thousand virgins heaving upon the ground
A thousand women born upon my sword
a thousand weeping, gasping in joyious birth
release and bliss and more implored
dragons come and dragons go
but virgins are a treasure rare
to find and slay and leave aglow
a quest for any knight to undertake
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Hmmm...well, I must admit straight away that I am not a fan of rhyme for the most part. While I thought this flowed reasonably well, the last four lines seem to hiccup and I keep coming back to the rhyme scheme as the possible culprit. I don't take issue with your subject matter - I actually find it refreshing to take the idea with an alternative spin. The most constructive thing I could offer you is when reading this aloud, pay close attention to the end & see if you could tweak "rare" and "undertake" a bit. Failing that, I would take it a further stanza and end it on a stronger note.
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