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ReggiePoet (Reggie)
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The Road Less Traveled

poet
JohnnyBlaze
Dangerous Mind
United States
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Poetry Contest

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.     



poet
Ahavati
Tyrant of Words
United States
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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  
Written by Ahavati
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poet
JohnnyBlaze
Dangerous Mind
United States
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Pangs Before Pains

 

Waiting on forest's edge  
you watched in my dream  
 
Drinking from a stream  
I dripped of sap  
my trunk  
wide  
arced  
above boughs hanging low  
 
In safe haven of distance  
or so it would seem  
you  
resisting  
the urge to nap  
parked on a log's back  
swishing your feet in the water    
thinking, wishing, wondering  
wanting to know what it would  
feel like climbing  
and  
straddling my wood  
but  
 
we'll never know  
 
for I withdrew  
insisting  
you dare not follow  
 
lest our pangs  
become pains  
rains could not wash away  
come the remains of day  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
#RobertFrost  
 
 
Written by JohnnyBlaze
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non-entry entry

poet
JohnnyBlaze
Dangerous Mind
United States
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Temporary At Best

 
I am November's guest    
on the inside squinting    
through lens flare tinting    
glare on Nature's window    
     
staring at her state of undress;    
     
delicate auburn sundress    
since cast aside    
blown away    
     
A joy to know;    
sorrow's antithesist    
a true beauty to behold    
when shed of her leavings    
     
Naked    
shrouded in cascading      
cold mid morning mist    
as if hair silver grey      
bare limbs and eavings      
pleasant to gaze upon    
from every which way;    
     
difficult    
for a raking onlooker    
like me to resist ...   
     
though I must admit    
she is most breathtaking    
when backdropped and lit      
with blues fading from sky      
before December snows    
descend    
     
And despite her      
bereavings of youth gone by      
she has not reason to be shy
  
I choose to linger and swoon    
amorously in aching enamorings    
of my once glamourous friend    
     
For no withered tree is she    
     
while I am but a season    
that comes and goes    
     
and sadly must soon    
come to an end    
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
#RobertFrost    
     
 
Written by JohnnyBlaze
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non-entry entry

poet
nightbirdblue
Fire of Insight
United States
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Joined 24th Sep 2017
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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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poet
JohnnyBlaze
Dangerous Mind
United States
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Night Of A Thousand Branches

 

Trees by design bark
and pine for destinations;
ends of journeys these
earthen beings only embark
upon in imaginations

In oft-repeated dreams pleasant
branching into Future and Past
leaving throughout their Presentness
my lofty friends at last
are nothing less than free
to be themselves with me ...

not so much her;

during bitter, clattering, breezy nights
as teeth chattering wind blows
coldly inwards from west to east
my darling gets the mighty frights
finds any old, gnarling tree a beast --
an impossible thing to behold
rasping, snarling, reaching
grasping, clawing, breaching
her latched bedroom windows;

in other words
scarier
than all get-out









#RobertFrost


Written by JohnnyBlaze
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Non-entry entry

poet
ReggiePoet
Reggie
Thought Provoker
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Joined 13th May 2018
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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
Written by ReggiePoet (Reggie)
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poet
eswaller
Dangerous Mind
United States
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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
Written by eswaller
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poet
Ahavati
Tyrant of Words
United States
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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        
       
~      
       
#RobertFrost
Written by Ahavati
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poet
Josh
Dangerous Mind
Portugal
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Prequel & Sequel to Robert Frost's "The Road Not Taken"

The year is Eighteen Seventy-Four  
when I was born on a troubled road  
with family deaths and life unsure  
and constant illness, insecure,  
the future weighed as a heavy load.  

In a world thus marked, I had a dream  
beyond the farm, I might choose to dare,  
take a poet’s path - that many would deem  
a leap too far from my earthly scene;  
so I took a walk to clear the air …  

       
            Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,  
            And sorry I could not travel both  
            … … …  
            … … …  
            … … …  
            … … …  
            I took the one less travelled by,  
            And that has made all the difference.  
 
 
… But time has passed since I wrote those lines  
at the tender age of forty-one,  
now double those years I see the signs  
of withering doubts that plague my mind,  
knowing the stakes had hardly begun;  
 
so I cannot say of the way I took  
- a dithering choice twixt roads so fair -  
that one was true, the other a crook  
for life goes on as an open book  
and cares no jot, but we live that dare.  
 
 
 
 
 
#Robert Frost  
 
 
Written by Josh
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A link to Robert Frost's "The Road Not Taken" can be found here:
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44272/the-road-not-taken

poet
snugglebuck
Dangerous Mind
United States
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Forum Posts: 1459

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
Written by snugglebuck
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poet
ElusiveSleepfall
MatthewZ
Fire of Insight
United States
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Entering the Woods On a Final Evening (A Take on R. Frost's Stopping By the Woods...)

The glass half empty on the shelf
Does burden me with thoughts of self
Perhaps a lovely sight to see
Those woods hold darker thoughts for me

The bells do toll for each of us
While most impose a dreadful fuss
But I do see a different end
And pray the dark will soon ascend

Tho' there is something to this life
It's wrought with deep and lavish strife
And we must bleed before we sleep
And hide the wounds from those we keep

So on I'll travel through the dark
This weary carriage I shall park
To watch the woods fill up with snow
Til' sleepfall yields it's welcome throe.


Author's Notes: (wouldn't fit downstairs).
Robert Frost's Stopping By the Woods On a Snowy Evening is my favorite poem of all time. And this is my take on it, for the contest. There is beauty in life, but it's ultimately sad, and tiresome. The beauty is notated in the wonders of the world, the trees, the snow, the sounds of the bells. The sadness is exemplified by the longing for eternal darkness, eternal sleep, and is further punctuated by the final 2 beautiful, yet weary, lines, displaying the longing to leave this life, but the need to stay(And miles to go before I sleep...And miles to go before I sleep). Seems sad to me too, Robert. Loved ones die, friends leave, beauty fades, yet there are still people who count on us, who's lives we would make more sorrowful if we went away. So, we must stay, and live with our sorrow, and loneliness, so as not to pass that on to them.
I've lived a lot in my short-ish existence, and fucked it up, and died a lot while living, and would love to visit the eternal darkness of those woods, Robert, but, as you say, I've got Miles To Go Before I Sleep.
Written by ElusiveSleepfall (MatthewZ)
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poet
Zaynab_kamoonpury
Twisted Dreamer
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Joined 4th Dec 2017
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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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poet
JohnnyBlaze
Dangerous Mind
United States
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Inspiration for yawl. 🎨

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Ahavati
Tyrant of Words
United States
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Joined 11th Apr 2015
Forum Posts: 1707

JohnnyBlaze said:Inspiration for yawl. 🎨

Eggsalent! So happy you're doing these. xo

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