A nice little poem here about the Wicker Man

Thatched, sewed.
Oh, Heavenly Ode
To the old Gods of Time,
Heathen Gods Divine.

Revered, to serve,
to enforce whats deserved.
Inclined to know,
wherever they roam.

The Wicker man grows taller.

Bearing down, menace and malice,
as they pass the hypathetical chalice.
Sharing the theoretical blood of their offering
to ensure the growth of next years offspring.

I am made of wicker,
and I burn as slow as time.
Please, Oh Lords, have mercy
give him countenance divine.
Good poem I'd say. I like how you changed from the AABB rhyme scheme to ABCB, it makes it more interesting. Keep writing I'd say .