Ode To Robert Frost
Mr. Frost I could have met you had I tried.
You were born in the same year as my dad,
With a decade yet of living when he died.
I could have sought you out and wish I had.
My father never wandered from the farm
As you did often, chasing after fame,
But he spoke to me of its worth and charm
As you expressed in poetry, the same.
I think you loved the world but knew its faults
And spoke obliquely of it in your lines.
You sprinkled them a bit with seasoning salts
Leaving it for us to puzzle your opines.
I love the way you use such simple words
To write of natural things I too have loved,
The sunsets, apple harvests and of birds
And in the reading of them, I am moved.
I've tried to write like you did Mr. Frost,
You who read for presidents and kings.
Your dreams pursued no matter what the cost.
You found such beauty in the simple things.
I wish that I'd talked with you, Mr. Frost.
But I had duties that I couldn’t shirk.
When I had the time at last, the chance was lost,
But thank you much for leaving us your work.
Written for Jared's contest
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2010
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