Thursday, 12 February 2015



I get it now, I get it right.
I will not now put up a fight
whenever I am feeling small,
delivering the star as light.

God knew my feeling. I am tall.
I am superior to all,
when height is quality to gain.
To gain, I did perceive as call.

But God saw to it that insane
I was. My height appeared as vain,
and I was ridiculed and scorn.
My pride appeared to be a pain.

No longer I will be adorn.
I get it now. I am like corn,
important not, but to life sworn.
I get it now. The seed is born.

( • )

At dVerse today, Gay Reiser Cannon is giving us a lovely challenge. She presents the poem "Stopping by Woods on A Snowy Evening" by Robert Frost, and wants us to write a poem with the same form. The stanzas are iambic tetrametric quatrains, but please notice the rhyme scheme. The rhyme word in the third line comes home in the next stanza.

.·: † :·.
I have put a link to this post on the blog hop of "dVerse" | here |.


  1. Yes - you found the heart of this poem and yet your story, your voice rings through it loud and clear. Well done.

  2. Sometimes it is difficult to define the wood from the trees - and I didn't Anders until your kind an honest comment.

    Much respect dear Anders - I feel bad that (in the past) I have misjudged you. So sorry.

    Kind regards
    Anna :o]

  3. The way the seed hold the tree in its heart.. A wonderful poem Anders.

  4. we are all but seed scattered....and will we bear fruit..
    will we feed many in our blooming?

  5. Each and every particle created by god has a purpose.



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