On Meter-Swapping, And Why It Messes With My Head

A sonnet every day has been my vow,

As I did undertake on New Year's Eve.

I've never missed a day - please don't ask how -

And once 'twas underway I did believe

I'd no more frets 'bout getting each one done.

But then I got an idea I have held

In check -- until I succumbed to the fun

It offered: a mock-epic that would weld

Space opera with farce. Yet woe is me:

Ottava rima is the classic way

Those are constructed, it is plain to see.

It's not unlike a sonnet, some might say:

Ten syllables a line, iambic, yet

The rhyme's scheme's off and so's the length, you bet!