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  #1  
Unread 03-26-2019, 04:49 PM
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RCL RCL is offline
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Default Happy Birthday Robert Frost!

Late Harvest

The harvest moon once seemed so near,
I dreamt that some night I would ride
a sapling down to earth and bounce
into that bright inviting sphere.

When later life revealed what’s real,
and yearly harvest moons arose,
beams would dance through dying leaves,
phantoms of my pure ideal.

Now I brood, old like my tree,
and fading twilight dimmed my vision,
but I recall youth’s harvest moon
and sing of what’s too far to see.
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Unread 03-26-2019, 05:28 PM
Roger Slater Roger Slater is offline
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Death of a Hired Man

"Silas is home," Mary said.
"Warren, be nice! He's in bed."
"I''ll go and I'll check 'nd
be back in a second,"
said Warren. But Silas was dead.

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in the wood.
Confused, for a moment I stood
and muttered an oath.
I could not take both,
but damn how I wished that I could!

Birches

I bend the tree down, gaining purchase,
then ride the tree up when it lurches,
then back in reverse.
A boy could do worse
than being a swinger of birches.

Reluctance

To man it has always been treason,
confronting the end of a season,
to feel no regret.
But that's what we get
for not being slaves to our reason.


Stopping by the Woods

Whose woods? Well, I think that I know.
I'd like to lie down in the snow
and perish right here,
but my horse thinks it queer.
And he's right. I've got miles to go.

Out! Out!

The saw cut the boy and he bled.
"Please save my hand!" the boy said.
The boy, alas, died,
and everyone cried,
but briefly, since they were not dead.

Last edited by Roger Slater; 03-26-2019 at 05:31 PM.
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  #3  
Unread 03-26-2019, 06:13 PM
Matt Q Matt Q is offline
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Unread 03-26-2019, 06:29 PM
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Roger/Bob and Matt, terrific gifts of poetic candles! And funny.

Frost’s Auto-Epitaph

Until I reached the age of eighty-eight,
Any roads I took, both long and steep,
Were headed for fulfillment of my fate
To sound these final breaths before I sleep.
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Unread 03-27-2019, 02:42 AM
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Ann Drysdale Ann Drysdale is online now
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Robert Frost Tackles the Blockage

I have been one acquainted with the shite
That gathers in the gloom of septic tanks
And shoulders-up the lid with foetid might.

I was the one selected from the ranks
To face the faeces, armed with only hope
And rubber gloves, a pair of scaffold planks,

A good stout stick, a bucket on a rope
And a technique passed down the family.
Human shadoof, I bent to dip and grope;

A thrusting-under and a hauling-free
Dropping the dollops from a dizzy height
Until I won my Pyrrhic victory.

No-one will stand downwind of me tonight.
I have been one acquainted with the shite.
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Unread 03-27-2019, 07:16 AM
Roger Slater Roger Slater is offline
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Good one, Ann. And you taught me a new word: shadoof. I watched several YouTube videos about the shadoof, but my favorite (though perhaps least informative) was this one.
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Unread 03-28-2019, 02:10 AM
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Ann Drysdale Ann Drysdale is online now
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I've taught you several words over the years, Rogerbob (e.g. "treen"). I hope you like this one as much as I liked that video. It's utterly charming - and also a very good demonstration of the technique.
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Unread 04-06-2019, 08:53 AM
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Daniel Recktenwald Daniel Recktenwald is offline
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I must peek in on "Drills and Amusements" more often. All of these were fun.

Ann, I had to recover from your first line before I could enjoy the rest. And shadoof: now a verb in my mental idiolect. I gotta shadoof this somehow. . . . Thanks.

My tardy offering:

Frost in Heaven

We're grateful You forgave his jokes, O Lord;
since Bob got here, Your hosts are much less bored.
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Unread 04-14-2019, 01:28 PM
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Ann Drysdale Ann Drysdale is online now
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We usually rise to a challenge here on D&A, Daniel. If you investigate, you'll find the "Flyting" topics I mentioned on your "Slam" thread.

Here's the first one...
https://www.ablemuse.com/erato/showt...hlight=flyting

And here's the second...
https://www.ablemuse.com/erato/showt...hlight=flyting

Posts nos. 18 and 21 in the latter thread are relevant to our recent discussion, I think.

You should join us more often.
.

Last edited by Ann Drysdale; 04-14-2019 at 01:35 PM. Reason: the perpetual quest for perfection.
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  #10  
Unread 04-14-2019, 09:29 PM
Martin Elster Martin Elster is offline
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These aren't as good as Ann's, but in any case ...

The Quietude of Night

Our master loves the quietude of night.
He loves it whether overcast or clear.
When clear our master gazes at the light

of stars that flicker through Earth’s atmosphere
or planets he can spy with naked eye.
(Without his glasses, though, they’d look unclear.)

But when he starts to walk we nearly fly!
We mutts, our master’s dogs, do try our best
to slow him down. We think that crazy guy

is nuts to walk so fast. Is it a test?
We try to pee on every tree for spite.
With speed our master truly is obsessed.

To slow him down we use our brawn and might,
but he keeps pulling us. It’s impolite!


Reacquainted with the Night

I have been one acquainted with the night.
All of my closest friends say I’m insane.
They tell me I don’t see enough daylight.

What my friends think of me is very plain.
They’re gossipy, they’re rash, they’re indiscreet.
They say I’ve lost my marbles—gone insane.

They make it known to everyone they meet.
It seems they even tell the birds that fly—
their tale, it seems, has wings as well as feet!

So maybe it is time to say good-bye
to all those rumormongers, impolite.
My feelings are too strong—they do not lie!

I’ll write a note to them by candlelight.
I’ll then be reacquainted with the night.
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