A poem of contronyms. Honourable mention in The Writer's Cramp, July 6 2019.
Contrary was the name I took
And contrary I came to be.
I may have been a model of learning
But I was only a model of my tutor’s original.
He appoints me to overlook the class;
Now watch as I overlook the task.
To hold up my peers for praise I tried
Only to find myself a hold up to their pride
And, now that they are finished and bright
I find that I am finished and done.
Oh, contrary me and contrary mine,
I want to continue but find that I must
Continue the poem until later.
Line Count: 13
Word Count: 100