Brothers,
Robert Frost (1874-1963) is famed as one of America's greater modern poets (a poet "laureate"--that is, "the best of his kind") along side of T.S. Eliot, among others.
His poetry is--in a way--"regional" in that his imagery is suggestive of the New England landscape in which he lived. His language is relatively simple, clear, and "colloquial" (which is to say, common speech).
As publishers note, he draws upon "everyday incidents, common situations and rural imagery."
Though simple and clear, his poetry is rich in "potent symbolism" that suggests a deeper meaning.
That said, compose a poem of your OWN verse using your OWN subject matter, but in a style similar to Frost. If it helps, pick a favorite poem from the reader or otherwise (by Frost) and mimic his sentence or phrasing structure.
Remember that we read to write and we write to communicate. So go and enter into a dialogue with Frost. See and feel what he inspires you to write about.
Peace,
BRob
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To clear this up for any of you immature people, gay in this poem means;
Gay: having or showing a merry, lively mood
People’s first feeling is gay,
The hardest manner to relay.
The early mood sets in;
But only for seconds.
Then dislike amounts to anger.
While happiness fell like a Hanger,
So morning turns to day.
Nothing gay can stay.
In poker, one needs to know,
how to bluff, for their stack to grow.
With the right combination of skill and luck,
you just might be able to make a buck.
If you play your cards right,
you might make some money by the end of the night.
One cant be too bold,
but one has to know when to fold.
It is known that in order to win,
you must know when to fold or go all-in.
Even if you stumble and fall,
the experience was better than not playing at all.
The Dreamcatcher
You turn out the light
And get in to bed
what will you dream of
what`s in your head
This ring on your bedpost
It`s intricate web
a tail of feathers
To lead your dreams
What will you find
Were will you go
To war to distant lands
Were will your dreams take you
Then it hits you
Your up with a start
This things not your friend
And what shall you find
As you open your mind
But two eyes gleaming you down
Is this a dream
You scream
You wake up sweating
All shaky inside
this is the terror you face each Night
Winter turns green to white,
Nature's snow is in sight.
Kids early watch Tv.,
For the no school guarantee.
Everyone dressed for new snow,
In warmth for head to toe.
Daylight is soon to expire,
Families hurry to their fires.
As the game winds down
The players’ minds become very wound
Hurry! Hurry! Two minutes left
But be careful watch the intercept
The clock keeps ticking
But your cleats keep slipping
Everyone nervous, fans on their feet
With the great roar you can’t compete
The clock keeps ticking 1:00… faster…faster
Scared and nervous you come to the line
You hope this play you’ll remember the sign
The quarterback prepares to snap
You hope in the defense you’ll find a gap
The clock keeps ticking 10..9..8..
The QB calls hike, the play at its start
You pick up you feet and run like a dart
You juke out your defenders one by one
You run the perfect route at the sound of the gun
You glance at the scoreboard, the time is out
You know that your open and you let out a shout
The QB sees you deep and lets it fly
You watch the ball amidst the sky
All of a sudden the ball hits your hands with a deafening sound
You know not to let it fall to the ground
You grab the ball, you haul it in
You sprint to the end zone for the Super Bowl win
Come with snow or rain, O loud Noreastern!
Bring your mighty wind, bring the nester;
End the sprouting flowers dream;
Make the settled snow-bank teem;
Find the green beneath the white;
But whatever you do on this night,
Chill my window, make it freeze;
Freeze it with the frigid breeze;
Freeze the glass but leave the sticks
That form the shape of a recule's crucifix;
Explode into my quiet room;
Swing the pictures on my wall with a mighty boom;
Run over these pages from a book,
Filled with childhood dreams;
Fling these dreams all over the floor;
Turn the child out the door.
Ode to a Simple Thing
O simple thing, where have you gone
It seems the years have caught up to me,
But not before the cold and dark dawn.
Yet i know that it will set me free.
The mirrors view is only so far away,
And i see a stranger has come out to play.
And as it may,
I was forcefully tossed astray.
He's laughing at me
And i'm laughing at him
But why would i have such a face of glee?
When the shine in our eyes could sting like a bee.
The stranger that i once knew, is gone.
They begin to sing praises of me.
Just like that sacraficial pawn.
And my eyes lay shut from dusk 'till dawn.
The dirt fills up my hole
But i am not suffocating
Yet i've been this way for a long time.
Yet able to conquer my life goal.
They reminisce my past in sorrow
Because for me there is no tomorrow
I hope i helped extinguish their fears.
Because it seems for now i can't dry their tears.
O simple thing, where have you gone?...
Summer
Time of friends and relaxation with no work to worry about,
Sleeping in and Hanging out with friends-life can't get better,
Until it all comes to a startling stop when a summer job comes along,
Now I have to wake up early to go to work,
Leaving little time to sleep in and have fun until the job is done,
Summer-still a great time of year because of the sense of freedom that comes to me
" Work "
Waking up under the bed sheets,
Getting dressed to walk the streets.
I have to reach my destination,
There is no room for procrastination.
Once I get there I must clock in,
For here my day begins.
Working long and hard,
Washing dishes and standing guard.
For once my hours have pasted,
I make sure I leave that prison extra fast.
- Please Ill take autographs in class only by request.
You sink exhaustedly into bed,
The thoughts of the day still ringing in your head,
And slowly the light of your alarm clock gleams,
As you slowly fall into the world of your dreams,
You dream of yourself in the voids of space,
flying past planets as though you're being chased,
And then you are switched to a battle, fighting hordes,
And driving them off with a magnificent sword,
Then you dream of yourself winning a race,
A slow smile creeping across your tired face,
You raise up your medal to the sky as you hear,
The roar of the crowd as they wildly cheer,
Then you are suddenly with the girl you've always thought was hot,
You're about to react, but you realize you're not,
Your mind is pulling you back.
You scramble to grip the dream so you'll stay,
But the alarm still wakens your eyes to the day,
As you angrily rise and grab all of your clothing,
It's the cackling of your mind that you're silently loathing.
Brother Rob, I spent half an hour yesterday trying to figure out another way to say "Then you are suddenly with the girl you thought had a hot rack", but I wasn't sure if I was allowed to put that in there.
many hope it will snow soon,
many hope it will not.
with what ive experienced
I'll stick with snow.
though if I had a second chance,
knowing the chill of winters past
that a nice warm day
would be just as nice.
But still i hope,
for that one great ice
Two squirrels lie dead in the road,
And sorry I could not eat both,
And being an eater, long it bode,
And gazed upon as long as I could,
To where its tail bent upwards;
I will tell this with a cry,
Gagging somewhere in a bathroom,
Two squirrels lie dead in the road,
And I - I ate the one less trampled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Based loosley off of Frost's
"Putting in the Seed":
"Turning of the Gut"
Your entrance through these doors startled me,
Though I could not help but be glad
That you came to look for words we cannot see
In books with prayers for souls gone sad
(Sad souls they are but no so crazy,
As the souls of the just that turned so mad;)
In the wake of war no longer free
Of fetters like iron in which they're clad,
Weighed down by forces and bullets unrestrained,
How Desire ignites in the Turning of the Gut
Withstanding the grace of the Spirit unexplained
Which, like the Dove through the clouds does cut,
The puffed air with wings beating
Up and down like eyes still searching.
"A Shakespearean Fool"
We drove home from the far North East
After a long lunch with Michael Larthey--
The court jester whose secret knowledge has everyone so fooled
(He knows it all, He knows them all
Yet still we've ridiculed)
Conversation never spoke so comfortably
With anyone else I know
I speak the same for Finnegan
(But then I can't assume)
I saw his spirit move in eyes that search in brown
Under a long Irish forehead
That juts out beneath graying, disheveled black hair.
He seems a child of God,
But a child he is not--
Less naive than most would think,
His authority housed
By humility.
In that awkward frame
That stiffly moves and stutters phrases
Is the One for whom I search.
If daily I could remember
I would call him everyday.
In coversation our words do wander,
Yet never there is a lull--
News of politics and women...
and Cars, parades, and weather.
It was Larthey who once told me
That "Jennifer" (my sister's name)in 1983
(The year of my birth)
Was America's choicest name
By couples starting families
Useless, but perhaps not,
These facts he bestows.
He has more to say by way of passion
For what we claim to know.
His history runs deeper
Than Shakespeare's time for sure.
He precedes the ones
Who've led Dukes blind
And those we call as Christians,
The "little ones" of the world.
I see the snow, descending to the night,
heightened in the moonlight.
winter is captured in an instant.
I gaze upon this image of nature.
the endless silence,
broken by long gusts of wind.
I am but a passing migrant,
reluctant to pass this tranquil midnight.
Looking at my homework and at my book
I realized I could only finish one
but the homework was gruesome, I could hardly look
I couldn't drop the book 'til I was done
But the book, on the other hand
would not help my final grade
and while the hourglass dropped sand
through my head these thoughts played
through the night I changed my mind
and as the night came to an end
I realized I was in a bind
I made an error which I could not mend
I worked in vain to fix this flaw
and as I walked into my school
an F on my paper I foresaw
and no book finished - I was a fool
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