Robert Frost Was No Help To Me
ROBERT FROST WAS NO HELP TO ME
Three roads diverged in a yellow wood
And sorry I could not travel all three
And be one traveler, long I stood
And gazed down each; but take none I could,
For in this trilemma, there was no Frost poem to guide me.
By taking one I was missing a double.
Oh why did he not write a helping hint for me?
Maybe I’m stirring up a lot of trouble,
Just inflating a big hot-air bubble,
But those other two could have set me free.
By taking none, the immobilization of me
And my dithering reconnoitering,
Especially in a dark wood where no one can see,
Brought in the police and judiciary:
And I was locked up for suspicious loitering.
I shall be telling this with immense frustration
Sometime hence no matter what I’m doin’.
The three roads led to utter consternation
And ultimately to penitentiary isolation -
And that has been my ruin.
Entered in Frank Herrera's Contest
The CrossRoads of your Life
Copyright © Sidney Beck | Year Posted 2011
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