frosted







poem* A verbal composition designed to convey experiences, ideas, or emotions in a vivid and imaginative way, characterized by the use of language chosen for its sound and suggestive power and by the use of literary techniques such as meter, metaphor, and rhyme.

sigh*to let out one's breath audibly, as from sorrow, weariness, or relief.


moxie* courage,determination, know-how, energy, pep










http://newintheknow.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/03/robert-frost_320.jpgRobert Frost was born in San Francisco on March 26, 1874. 
Though his work is principally associated with the life and landscape of New England, and though he was a poet of traditional verse forms and metrics who remained steadfastly aloof from the poetic movements and fashions of his time, Frost is anything but a merely regional or minor poet. The author of searching and often dark meditations on universal themes, he is a quintessentially modern poet in his adherence to language as it is actually spoken, in the psychological complexity of his portraits, and in the degree to which his work is infused with layers of ambiguity and irony.








This was my Mother's favorite poem, she would  have been seventy two this month. LOVE






The Road Not Taken


Two Roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-- I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.





http://www.maritscrapworld.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/yellow_brick_road.jpg




Roads come in all types - paved, brick, dirt, gravel, wooded, yellow. Travel your road (be it less traveled or not) with confidence and humor. I've come to know it takes a great deal of moxie to follow your own path and heed the feeling in your belly.  If you do, you'll discover you're not alone.




 Mumford and Sons

6 comments:

  1. This made me think of: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NP01MAREDz0.

    Little Edie, in the documentary misquotes this poem and they incorporated her endearing flub into one of the most affecting and beautiful songs of Grey Gardens, sung hauntingly by Christine Ebersole.

    Beautiful. LOVE

    ReplyDelete
  2. The yellow brick road too - there is no place like home! Remember the grandkids in their ruby red slippers from Nana:)

    ReplyDelete
  3. Thanks for sharing! Great poem! xx Anastasia

    ReplyDelete
  4. Beautiful! Thanks for sharing! xoxoxo

    ReplyDelete
  5. Jane,

    I love the poem and the message it conveys. I think, sometimes, the road less traveled can be a lonely one especially if you are unsure of what it will bring to you. Most of the time it has been my experience that while there may not be another soul travel that path that it was made especially for you and what you need learn along the way.

    Ever heard of the calf path? It was a path my mother-in-law talked about when she was alive.

    Wanted to let you know that I got pneumonia after the surgeries and still not feeling very GREAT!

    Hope things are going well for you!

    Kris

    ReplyDelete
  6. I had to memorize this poem in 9th grade and recite in in front of the class. Ever since, it has been one of my favorites. It has such a beautiful message behind it.

    ReplyDelete

“Thought is the blossom; language the bud; action the fruit behind it” Thank you for your thoughts and comments!