Long Road less travelled Poems

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Premium Member MY GPS; with apologies to Robert Frost

Some have Siri, 
others have Alexa;
but my GPS 
I call it Robert;
for it seems to always
take the road less travelled by.
I see the highway on its little screen;
while I meander 
down some potholed lane
that somehow seemed to 
have the better claim on Robert.
I swear I typed in ‘fastest.’
but Robert is pre-programmed,
so it appears,
to always take me via ‘scenic,’
perhaps he’s keeping fastest,
for another day.
U-turns are his specialty,
along with narrow lanes
with red signs;
bent in the undergrowth
‘Beware Heavy Plant’
with no room
for the passing there.
Two interviews;
and both that morning,
I’m sure some time, ages hence
I will arrive;
late;
for Robert
took the route less traveled by,
which has made all the difference!


Premium Member ''Broken Wings''

Bird in a guilded cage, a broken heart, a solitary soul
Road less travelled, a soul full of longing, my heart bleeds
On a wing and a prayer, my heart is a lonely hunter, a weary soul
    
    Kiss the rose, look into my eyes
    Endless words, my heart laid bare
    No man is an island, tears fall like rain

        Words that were left unspoken, over and over again

It's never too late to change, wish upon a star
Near and dear to my heart, when all is said and done
Give it a whirl, as time passes by, my soul is weeping, weeping

    Stop and smell the roses, till the end of time


______________________________
May 9, 2015


Poetry/Verse/Cliches/"Broken Wings"
Copyright Protected, ID 05-671-486-09
All Rights Reserved, 2015, Constance La France
Form: Name

How To Do Great Things

to do great things you will more than strength
you will also need perseverance
for few things are impossible to accomplish
with just some skill and some diligence
as many of the important things in this world 
have been accomplished by those 
who would not stop
they possessed a sense of hope and
a spirit of determination
in order to reach their mountain top
some problems can be solved with 
a little bit of creativity
but anything can be overcome
if you possess a positive mentality

to accomplish great things
you don't just act
you must also have a dream
don't just make plans
perceive it and believe it 
and then you will achieve 
don't look outside yourself for strength
learn to look within your own heart
with belief in yourself
and faith in your abilities
you will have made a very good start
don't  follow a path
take the road less travelled
and instead leave a trail
learn from yesterday
live for today
and hope for tomorrow
that you will prevail

possess courage, inspiration
motivation and inner strength
be optimistic, persevere
and determined to go to any length
that's how to do great things

Wayward Wanderer

Why does my soul not conform to the social standards that society and family set before me? As if I was written as a chapter of a different book and thrown amongst the scoffers. Or am I just a remnant of a time now lost, nestled in this body, in a forlorn attempt to find sanctuary? All the whilst, having doctored more unrest. 

Will none attest to my goodness? Is value no longer placed upon honesty, purity, selflessness? Or to survive do we have to lay amongst the savages, grapple and take mercilessly until we end up on top? As if success were singular, purpose myopic. Can we not welcome the success of another without being overcome with jealous rage, that sours friendships like forbidden fruit?

Is love now bought, wagered, ransomed, finite, and unconditional love labelled 'love sick'? How do we allow our own country's earth to decay to seek pleasures further afield and not sow the seeds of our own home? False idols captivate our screens, media, conversation when the greatest in this world are those that become the least, that do things without desire for merit, worth or absolution. How do we find comfort in a world where old souls, who value lost morals are deemed outcasts?

God's word is clear, albeit at times difficult.
We must choose to walk the road less travelled. We may appear the wayward wanderer, but our destination is promised, even to the least worthy. So may we as God's people lean on his grace and follow the path of goodness and truth that shall outlast the tests of time.

03.13.22

Travel

It was this world’s most popular word people use for a fancy trip they take “Travel”

My definition was a mile’s journey taken from one place to another in life 

I moved from painful events as I transitioned into all sorts of places
My happy ones filled with flowers 
My sad ones filled with anxiety and depression making this journey all worth it like four seasons as each one has its beautiful definition 

I used the travel word as I verbally went through counselling to align my soul with my body, mind and spirit and crossed over the road less travelled

Many people travel using different travel mediums such as cars, busses, planes, boats and the likes 
With me, it is always different and blossoming 
Nothing like what others use to be transported to their destinations 
With me, my travels are always my life experiences 

I had variations without even thinking about my own moods, but as a writer 
I needed to know just when to double my final consonant and when I should not 

I deviated from my practice only when I used this word “Travel” no matter my stress pattern as my final consonant doubled 

With this word came determining factors of places, memories and friends I made along this journey   


Poet 
Masego Nkuna
Form: Verse


Sometimes, Somehow

Sometimes, there is not time
Somewhere, there is not where
Somewhat as unlikely to find
Somehow, there isn’t a way to fair

Too much of this, too little of that
Simply a few or one too many?
Perhaps one too happy, few too sad
If I remember... is it a memory?

A lonely road yet travelled by most
A road less travelled rather is lonesome
To only feel so far yet somewhat close
I do conclude how silence has its own rhythm

If I could fly I wouldn’t try
Trying only means I couldn’t fly
I have truth to yet need lies
If I’m lying, is there truth to still ask why?

Sometimes, somewhere, somewhat, somehow
There is not time, there isn’t a place nor space
There be a past, there is the future, there is now
Whether dreaming or living yet a certainty to chase
© Joel Lee  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member My Choice

My Choice

One road is rocky
with many holes.
The entrance gate is
narrow and few find it.
It is steep, with a
long climb.
A narrow path
with treacherous footing.
But the end is a place
of eternal rest, beauty and peace.

The other road is smooth
with no potholes.
The entrance gate is broad
and high and many find it.
The road is wide 
no guard rails needed.
It is a flat road, so
legs never grow tired.
But the end is eternal pain, suffering
and torment.

It is easy to follow the crowd
and take the road most travelled.
But, I will change direction
and take the road less travelled.

THE PATH WELL TRAVELLED - POTD

POTD 23 Mar 2024 

THE PATH WELL TRAVELLED.

Two paths diverged, and I was thrown by doubts I had never known
To my left, thickly overgrown, was a path to dismal dimness prone.

To my right, a lovely sight-fragrant flora flamed in light
Forms so graceful, beauty rare, a wonderous vision beyond compare.

Both seduced with equal right,  torn was I between dark and light.
Resisting limits of time and sight, a liminal border of cosmic might.

Hesitancy rapt with fear and doubt, the pondering heart beat aloud.
Tempting was the path so grand, but instinct cautioned of a treacherous hand.

A feathery touch, a breeze stirred, and in its sigh, a voice I heard.
Was it Hecate who whispered?
 "Take heed. Beware, for each path leads to a different lair."

Crystal clarity knew what I must do, and with a heart filled with valour true,
Joyously, I strode wild and free down the well-trodden path ahead of me.

The leaves, like frisking lovers, played as I embarked my chosen way.
Future paths ~ So many dreams ~  Each a thread in life's grand scheme.

Though true discovery lay in paths, I'd roam ~
The one well travelled always led back Home.

By Maria Williams ©

Greeks worshipped Hecate as a guardian and gatekeeper who could ward off evil forces. She is often represented carrying a torch and a key and standing on the liminal border between one place and another. She bears three heads and always has a dog by her side.

Inspired by Robert Frost's 'The Road Not Taken', I chose to write an alternative version.

'The Road Not Taken' is one of Robert Frost's most famous poems. It's natural and understandable that many readers take the poem to be Frost's statement of individualism as a poet: he will take 'the road less travelled'.

The metaphor of the road is one that immediately evokes a journey, not just of the local or day-to-day kind, but of the life-defining sort: life as a journey, with many roads which we must travel along, and with many alternative paths which we must choose between.

POTD 23 March 2024
Form: Rhyme

Freemasonry Wiz

There once was upon a time
Stories written out of rhyme
Swirling yellow rows of bricks
Munchkins Witches playing tricks

House that fell in lady slippers
Hit the bricks cracks and chippers
Celebration follow the road
Starts the skip for this ode

Never seen me I was there
I'm the guy that does repair
All those scratches kept it yellow
Fix the road I'm the fellow

On the four way intersection
Found you there your direction
Only problem straw hair oil
Picked it up with Toto coil
 
Raked up leaves soft and floppy 
While you slept among the poppy
Road to city gloss and shiny
That's my shift only tiny

Asked the Oz to help today
Sent on road now it's grey
Watch yourself on this trip
Road less travelled not much grip

By the way they took my cart
Need to get back where I start
I'll stick around until you're done
Ruby slippers should be fun
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Kiss Me Mommy

"I shall be telling this with a sigh" 
Robert Frost, The Road Less Travelled. 

I’ve wiped her tears for many years,
through pain and heartbreak, too.
I’ve held her hands and lent an ear,
so tough times she could get through.

I’ve read her stories and sung her songs,
the best a father can.
I know how much her heart has longed
for the touch of a woman.

Her mother died when she was three;
drunk drivers are a curse.
She was gone from our lives quite suddenly -
our broken hearts could not feel worse.

At fifteen years she confessed to me,
with tears rolling down her cheeks:
“I’ve never forgotten the memory
of the last words to her I did speak”

“She was walking out of our front door,
on her way to see a friend;
I said, ‘Mommy please kiss me just once more,
in case I never see you again.’

All these years she carried the guilt
that she somehow contributed to the fate;
And around her emotions a wall was built
but the sorrow and pain became too great.

“And that’s why Daddy, I never kiss you,
when out the door you go every day;
And I thought that now it was time you knew
why I have been acting this way.”

I hugged my daughter and we both did cry,
releasing emotions pent up inside;
And then I helped her wipe them dry
feeling a fatherly pride.

“That last kiss you shared with your mother,
did not send her to her grave;
In fact, I bet she could not have received any other,
better last gift than the one you gave.”

“So when you talk to her in prayer tonight,
let her know that kiss was special for you;
She would help unburden you from this fright
if it were something that she knew.”

by Joe Flach for Constance's "Give me a kiss, Mommy" contest.
Written and posted on 10/5/2011
© Joe Flach  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

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