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Civilization (for the sonnet workshop)

“… for man’s society is at an end.”
Announcers can be rather dull at need,
especially when spewing such a feed.
“There’s naught much else to say than that, my friend”.

The last ‘lectronic voice went round the bend.
He too had friend and family to feed.
The all that now is left, a solemn creed,
is trust that God an Angel born will send.

In deepest jungles of the R. O. C.,
a dozen men and women labor long
to find that which Man’s certain can’t be found.

In Haz Mat suits they sweat so they can’t see
and never slow, for they cannot be wrong
and what they find, they find on hallowed ground.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
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?
Last few words: 
I particularly want comments as to whether or not the volta was clear.
Editing stage: 

Comments

all through sir.
With much food for thought.

Just one line I've stumbled on
The LAST |‘leCTRO|nic VOICE |WENT ROUND| the BEND

I also thought the rhyme scheme in the sestet, particularly the "C" and "see" needs abit of attention as they are identical.

As for the volta, I thought it is really distinguished with the human touch that it adds to the piece. As the octave is a bit scientific, the human touch makes the turn required.

Hope I've given your sonnet its fair.
Thanks for sharing.

❤❤❤❤❤❤

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

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Is it a solution?
I read a before and after...
I know I'm missing something ... lol - a bit thick maybe
silly question probably - where are the jungles of the ROC?

Great form Wes - only to be expected from you
I have no problem with
the LAST | 'lec -TRON | -ic VOICE | went ROUND | the BEND

love judy
xxx

'Each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star,
shall draw the Thing as he sees It, for the God of Things as They are.'
(Rudyard Kipling)

It rhymed and fit the meter. What can I say?
Yes Rula, they are identical. I wimped out.

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

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