I guess I see. Granted it's hard to post poetry on the Internet since, like I said before, you can't really detail out how someone should read it, or pronounce certain words. Than again, you can argue that for practically every poem ever printed.
I see your point, I also emphasize certain words by switching word order. But I didn't quite see any emphasis in seeing that she fought till her dying breath. The only reason why I would remember the stanza is because it has different wording then the entire poem. Than you'd be debating consistency and I don't think I could right now ...
This is something I wrote fairly recently. It's still a little rough, but I'll work on it some more.
In battle armour, tall and proud,
The gladiator stands.
He does not hear the thundrous crowd,
Nor feel the bone-dry sands.
His eyes seek only his next fight,
His shield and sword held high,
Though mortal he, he feels no fright,
His target finds his eye.
As he circles his hated foe,
His stance is safe and still.
But soon, for reasons he can't know,
His lust o'erwhelms his will.
He leaps with sudden bursts of speed,
Abandoning his shield,
With weight lost, his movements are freed,
His foe appears to yield.
The warrior abandons fear,
He lets his armour fall,
But things are not as they appear,
He has not won at all.
His opponent strikes, with strength unknown,
And deals a crippling blow.
The fighter falls on ground like stone,
And shameful tears soon flow.
Though the victor has been named,
And the noble knight has lost,
He feels his own haste should be blamed,
His grave injuries, the cost.
For one who fights without defense,
Who casts their shield aside,
Will always suffer their penance,
For their openness and pride.
But such brave knights will not refrain,
Only death can make them rest.
Gladly, they suffer through their pain,
For to them, it is a test.
Our hero's battles will restart,
Though his fate's not yet unfurled.
This warriors name, it is My Heart,
His foe is called The World.
"Give a man a fire and he will be warm for a night. Set a man on fire and he will be warm for the rest of his life"
I would recommend taking this time to explore the emotions of sadness as a way to conveying poetry. God knows how many times when I was feeling down, that merely writing something as humble as flowers, through the eyes of remorse, opened my mind to a different world. Granted it may not be for everyone, but I have come to love and appreciate the flower more for it's complexity in its seemingly simple nature. My prayers for your improvement.