Robert Frost

 I have realized that when I have a really heavy issue at heart, am not able to write it in prose.

A poem works much better. I have been quiet trying to twist a story but i have realized that I cannot. We shall surely have untold stories. Those which we can only type with our eyes closed and talk with out moving our lips. The very deep stories whose listening can only be done with ears blocked.

I have therefore resolved to have a poetic week, probably month. This has also not helped much, I shall not write this story. It will die inside me, very sad a thing.

I have  been reading much of Maya Angelou as she still is such an iconic poet. May her words still rise, that is my all time favorite by her.

Through my poetic mood, I have stumbled on a poem I fell in love with back in form one when  I started discovering the real literature. I love it so much Id read it every so often and I think I wrote a few replies to it. I just that I was not so keen with keeping my write ups back then. This poem is like an audit point in life. What if you one of us, did not take this road? So intriguing, I had to share it with you.

Its by Robert Frost, enjoy;


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.

Awesome!!