Poetry competition CLOSED 12th December 2018 9:56pm
WINNER
ReggiePoet (Reggie)
ReggiePoet (Reggie)
RUNNER-UP:
PoetsRevenge
The Road Less Traveled
Anonymous
Poetry Contest Description
the poetry of Robert Frost
Co-Host - Ahavati
Part V in an ongoing series introducing serious writers of DUP to the most well-known poets, both classical and modern.
Robert Lee Frost (March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963) was an American poet. His work was initially published in England before it was published in America. Known for his realistic depictions of rural life and his command of American colloquial speech, Frost frequently wrote about settings from rural life in New England in the early twentieth century, using them to examine complex social and philosophical themes.
His Awards Include:
Pulitzer Prizes, 1921
New Hampshire: A Poem with Notes and Grace Notes.
Pulitzer Prize, 1931
Collected Poems
Pulitzer Prize, 1937
A Further Range
Pulitzer Prize, 1943
A Witness Tree
The Congressional Gold Medal, 1960
For his poetic works
Poet Laureate of Vermont, 1961
Edward MacDowell Medal, 1962
For outstanding contribution to the arts.
Guidelines
Write a new poem honoring Frost from one of the following poetry titles. Bonus points if you actually read the poem and include a reference other than the title within it.
1) The Road Not Taken
2) A Dream Pang
3) My November Guest
4) Wind And Window Flower
5) Stars
6) The Last Word of a Bluebird
7) Ghost House
8) Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
9) Design
10) The Need of Being Versed in Country Things
11) The Oft-Repeated Dream
12) The Telephone
The Rules
1. One entry per DUP persona.
2. No erotica; this is open to all ages and can't be viewed with an ECW.
3. No exact word limit; however, attempt to keep it no more than 250 - 300.
4. Any form is acceptable.
5. Hashtag your poem #RobertFrost and link to your poem here. Do NOT copy paste your poem to the competition. The point is to eventually direct visitors searching for Frost to your poem via the hashtag we hope will eventualy be implemented by the Webmiss.
Comp will be judged by a panel including myself. You have one month; best of luck to all entrants.
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening ( After Robert Frost )
The path I walk is winter white
reflective on this moonlit night
o're field and glade I slowly crept
to not disturb or cause a fright
the animals who might've slept
had not I tread within my step
peaceful slumber deep in dreams
by snapping wood of broken twig
Startling their eve routines
in depth of burrow and trunk of trees
or high in branch under sky
curled all warm with families
Woodland creatures far and wide
watched my trek with open eyes
questioned motives in their minds
but I just pause with wink and smile
~
#RobertFrost
reflective on this moonlit night
o're field and glade I slowly crept
to not disturb or cause a fright
the animals who might've slept
had not I tread within my step
peaceful slumber deep in dreams
by snapping wood of broken twig
Startling their eve routines
in depth of burrow and trunk of trees
or high in branch under sky
curled all warm with families
Woodland creatures far and wide
watched my trek with open eyes
questioned motives in their minds
but I just pause with wink and smile
~
#RobertFrost
Written by Ahavati
(Tams)
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Anonymous
Related submission no longer exists.
Anonymous
Related submission no longer exists.
The Last Words of a Crow
By the moonlight I strolled
Along a path freshly mowed
Winding ‘round a cat-tailed pond
When I saw the shadow of a Crow
In this cold midnight hour
Her silk-black feathers glowed
She turned her eye on me
And in that moment she spoke:
“Bluebird, my darling
The last time I saw you
Spring’s flowers still bloomed
A brilliant bright yellow
Now you know who I am
And where I have travelled
And I’ll keep looking after you
Wherever you may go.”
My heart sang back to she
Notes carried upon the wind
And I know she’s always watching
Dearest Aunt Sandy, the Crow
#RobertFrost
Written by nightbirdblue
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Anonymous
Related submission no longer exists.
As I Trod to Town
’Twas a frosty morn’ as I trod to town
The path, familiar to my furrowed brow
Against a cold wind, my heated frown,
Annoyed by chill and bearing down,
I stayed my course anyhow!
My reason to venture into the wind—
I have forgotten long years ago.
But through discomfort of self-discipline,
My ego refuses to ever rescind,
‘cause I proudly conquered that snow!
I’ll tell you this story, again and again,
‘till my presence you’ll gladly avoid!
Plain-spoken words with no hint of chagrin
Said by this folksy, annoying has-been
That literati shall never rejoin!
He took the road less traveled by,
And I took his words to heart!
Toast his memory with a shot of rye!
Raise your voice! Lift your glass to the sky!
Simple words—molded into great art!
#RobertFrost
The path, familiar to my furrowed brow
Against a cold wind, my heated frown,
Annoyed by chill and bearing down,
I stayed my course anyhow!
My reason to venture into the wind—
I have forgotten long years ago.
But through discomfort of self-discipline,
My ego refuses to ever rescind,
‘cause I proudly conquered that snow!
I’ll tell you this story, again and again,
‘till my presence you’ll gladly avoid!
Plain-spoken words with no hint of chagrin
Said by this folksy, annoying has-been
That literati shall never rejoin!
He took the road less traveled by,
And I took his words to heart!
Toast his memory with a shot of rye!
Raise your voice! Lift your glass to the sky!
Simple words—molded into great art!
#RobertFrost
Written by ReggiePoet
(Reggie)
Go To Page
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening: Robert Frost Tribute
There are many miles to go before I sleep
As I am trudging through the white snow
Left behind by Mother Nature and shorter
Days are here. Memories of summer I keep
Close, but the tall pine trees put on a show
With snowdrift and I forget all about order.
My next destination in the back of my mind,
I watch as my frosty breath is intermingling
With the surrounding scenery. I could be lost
Here for hours or days memorizing the wind
Blowing on my face and feeling the tingling
Sensation from my toes. This is what Frost
Talks about, a place that feels like home
And what other people try to forever roam.
#RobertFrost
As I am trudging through the white snow
Left behind by Mother Nature and shorter
Days are here. Memories of summer I keep
Close, but the tall pine trees put on a show
With snowdrift and I forget all about order.
My next destination in the back of my mind,
I watch as my frosty breath is intermingling
With the surrounding scenery. I could be lost
Here for hours or days memorizing the wind
Blowing on my face and feeling the tingling
Sensation from my toes. This is what Frost
Talks about, a place that feels like home
And what other people try to forever roam.
#RobertFrost
Written by eswaller
Go To Page
Ghost House ( after Robert Frost )
Whoever once stepped afoot
upon this now abandoned porch
must’ve toiled a daily wage
within the fields and garden gate
hanging now as rotted wood
Whoever cooked within this kitchen
canning beans and plucking chicken
surely did so with such care
her flower vase still sitting there
with wilted bloom on withered stem
Whoever slept within this room
of hand-sewn curtains billowing-
snagged and torn on broken glass
of window panes long past death
took care the stitches stay strong
Whoever held with loving arms
the children on this little farm
assuredly swung them from that tree
where now hangs a broken swing
to keep them safe from harm
Whoever built that empty barn
for bales of hay and grain of corn
certainly whittled this little bench
in a private corner of cement fence
overlooking the family plot
Carved in hearts: names and dates
of whoever lived or visited this place
Perhaps descendants paying respect
or aimless wanderer simply curious
of ghosts without story or face
~
upon this now abandoned porch
must’ve toiled a daily wage
within the fields and garden gate
hanging now as rotted wood
Whoever cooked within this kitchen
canning beans and plucking chicken
surely did so with such care
her flower vase still sitting there
with wilted bloom on withered stem
Whoever slept within this room
of hand-sewn curtains billowing-
snagged and torn on broken glass
of window panes long past death
took care the stitches stay strong
Whoever held with loving arms
the children on this little farm
assuredly swung them from that tree
where now hangs a broken swing
to keep them safe from harm
Whoever built that empty barn
for bales of hay and grain of corn
certainly whittled this little bench
in a private corner of cement fence
overlooking the family plot
Carved in hearts: names and dates
of whoever lived or visited this place
Perhaps descendants paying respect
or aimless wanderer simply curious
of ghosts without story or face
~
Written by Ahavati
(Tams)
Go To Page
A link to Robert Frost's "The Road Not Taken" can be found here:
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44272/the-road-not-taken
Family Farm
The cows I herded to pasture
Are now warehoused by the thousands
Never seeing the light of day
Old neighbors' farm houses
Slowly mold and rot to abandon
A rusty skeleton is all that remains
Of the Allis Chalmers tractor I drove
Just as the Sioux and the buffalo
Disappeared from the prairie
So, has the family-farm menagerie
But it will live forever in my memory
#Robert Frost
Are now warehoused by the thousands
Never seeing the light of day
Old neighbors' farm houses
Slowly mold and rot to abandon
A rusty skeleton is all that remains
Of the Allis Chalmers tractor I drove
Just as the Sioux and the buffalo
Disappeared from the prairie
So, has the family-farm menagerie
But it will live forever in my memory
#Robert Frost
Written by snugglebuck
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Anonymous
Related submission no longer exists.
Mankind in Dreamland
Pestered and pursued
by unknown foes
A topsyturvy land
where snakes can have horns
and cows can have fangs.
Night'mares' where the day's stallions
make mountains out of molehills
A chance to witness greek mythology-like creatures for real
For dreamland tis a place for the unreal and surreal.
Those hair-raising scary scary dreams
beset with horrified silent screams!
We do try to interrupt nightmares, pinching ourselves
With relief wake up to see there aren't any horrid elves.
We also try to interpret dreams filled with mystery
But gifted dream interpreters like prophet Joseph
Are now part of biblical human history
All in all, dreamland's fascination
for extra-ordinary exaggeration
and tall-tale imagination
Where myth and legend come to life
An amalgam of fiction or real strife
Where assorted monsters of the mind
reign supreme in that REM sleep of our kind.
Yet on the other hand the wishful, wistful sweet sweet dreams
where fantasies form mirages bordered by fanciful seams.
Where castles in the air that humans build, float gently down to earth
only to shoot back up unto nowhere from the awakened one's berth.
In dreamland a pauper girl can be a princess or fairy fair
for daydreams extend into the night and linger on there.
A quote I took to heart and it to console all and sundry
'that if your sweet dreams don't come true, don't you fret
for atleast your nightmares didn't come true either,
so just heave a sigh, by and by.
Every night let us all just fly away and escape
And lo behold the extraordinary world of Dreamscape.
Written by Zaynab_kamoonpury
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Anonymous
Inspiration for yawl. 🎨
