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 |.