Ode To A Robert Frost Poem

I thought I took the road less taken.
But I guess I was mistaken.
When the two paths diverged in the woods; I pondered at which path I must take.
I took the path to my left in the woods; Was it the right path to take?
It was not, but I digress.
Why must I deal will all this stress?
As I sit and try to recall all of the words from the poem Frost once wrote, I must emote.
This ode to that grand old poem that Frost once wrote.
The name of that Robert Frost poem is 'The Rode Not Taken'.
As I write this ode to a Robert Frost's poem, the words he wrote be not mistaken.
I thought I took the path less taken.
I will now end this ode to go eat some bacon.

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A Poem Is A Poem

As I sat in my room,
On my little desk chair,
I began to feel
A hint of despair.

I had for my homework,
A poem to create,
And if it wasen't done then,
It would have been late.

My school, my dog,
A tree or my home,
Which of these subjects,
Should I choose for my poem?

You can see for yourself,
That my problem was bad,
No poem could I think of,
My; this was sad.

As I sat there and gazed,
A thought came to mind:
A poem is a poem,
Just as long as it rhymes.

So I wrote down some words,
And tossed them around,
Until they rhymed nicely,
And had a smooth sound.

My poem was all finished,
My homework all done,
It wasen't bad after all,
It even was fun!

Longfellow, Whitman,
Robert Frost too,
I've discovered there secret
That all of them knew.

A poem is no problem,
It takes not much time,
You write down your thoughts,
In a way that will rhyme.

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A Not a Poem Poem

A Not a Poem Poem

I will not write a poem
For I am not a poet
I cannot makes things rhyme
I’ve tried for quite some time
So will I write a poem?
NO!

I can’t write poetry
I’ve tried to all my life
Once, I tried to write a poem
About a husband and his wife
It sounded really silly
So I crumbled it up into a ball
That’s why I decided
That I couldn’t write poetry at all
Am I gonna write a poem?
NO!

Well, I’ll try to write a poem
But it will be really bad
It will be absolutely lousy
It will be completely horrible
It won’t be up to snuff
People will say, “Who wrote this stuff? ”
Will my poem be good?
NO!

Can I write a poem?
NO!

Will I write a poem?
NO!

Well, what do you know! ? !
I wrote a poem!
And it’s a pretty good poem, too!
I guess I can write poetry if I try
The next time I’m asked to write a poem,
Will I say no?
NO!

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A Ode Poem To You

My mother gave me an ode poem, oh how I love that poem
The scene of her perfume on it, the picture of me in her arms
This letter I keep with me all the time, I love it so much I sleep with it under my pillow
To her nice hand writing, to the black ink she wrote in, she wrote until her ink went low

My poem is great, my poem is wonderful, to the white paper she wrote on it’s beautiful
To the green words of the title, my poem she gave me is the best
I love how she gave the lip stick print on the top of my poem, sad to say she's at rest
I will always love the poem she gave to me before she passed

To the words in the poem she gave me will always endure
Word by word my lovely poem is speaking to me gratefully
This ode poem was from my mom and for only me sincerely
I love my poem, oh how wonderful it can be

Its so wonderful do you want to read,
Take a look, take a look and you will see

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I Lost The Poem I Wrote In My Mind

I LOST THE POEM I WROTE IN MIND

I lost the poem I wrote in my mind
When walking to Shul this morning-
I can only try to recall its thoughts;
‘Walk too fast and the mind cannot hear itself
Walk slowly and listen to the poem inside yourself.
The road ahead the trees the sky
Has a beauty too great for you to write
Thank God for your sight.”

The best lines are forever gone-
A poem to replace a poem
Is not as good as the original-
I wish I had the words for all the beauty God gives me in my life
How wonderful it is to be alive- sometimes
And to be able to write poems – even if somewhat poorly.

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I Never Thought Of This Poem

I never thought of this poem
It strolled into me, vividly
Forcing and obliging me
It urged me on despite resistance
I never thought of this poem

I never thought of this poem
It possessed and subdued me
It never left me alone, in peace
I could no longer resist its force
I never thought of this poem

I never thought of this poem
I gave in to it, to its wishes
I wrote it, I read it
It came out of me, liberating me
I never thought of this poem!

Huyton, Liverpool, UK
Wednesday,22nd April,2009

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They Call It Gentle and Smile

The Sun wrote a poem
That is morning
The Moon wrote a poem
That is evening
I wrote a poem
That is love
You wrote a poem on your lips
They fondly call it gentle and smile

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A Poem

i wrote you a poem,
that stood naked on
your doorstep,
but you didnt notice...

so i wrote you a poem,
that bled on your kitchen floor,
yet the mop stood untouched
in the corner!

i wrote you a poem,
that set itself on fire
in your bedroom,
and you opened the window.

so i wrote you a poem,
from the land of death...
your tears only an echo,
that couldnt touch...

couldnt taste, couldnt feel...
will you write me a poem?

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The Poem Of All The Places I Have Never Been

THE POEM OF ALL THE PLACES I HAVE NEVER BEEN

The poem of all the places I have never been
The poem of all the dreams I have not seen
The poem of others poems written in lines I have never imagined
The poem of the infinite – what-is- not and ‘what- will- never- be
The poem of seas and suns and sounds and Shakespeare’s sonnets,
The poem of words and only words whose sounds do not mean what we feel
The poem of all I would not and cannot write
The poem that is not and never will be in me
The poem I do not write
The poem I am not
The poem lost
The poem which itself is not a poem
The poem of the last contradiction and the first
The poem beyond the poem hidden within the poem
The poem which will never be a poem
The poem which is not
The poem I cannot dream.

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A Tribute To My Great Poets (Revised)

I forget who it was that invented the first electrode.
Let me praise the guy who invented the commode.
Love is all that matters in the solar system and universe
Some poets and writers like to compose using free verse.
I like to write my poems using ending rhymes.
Some poems I like to read over one hundred times.
The inspiration for some of my poems are from the divine.
The writings and poems of Jane Austen can make me pine.
A moving poem by Robert Frost can inspire my mind.
Let me mention another great poet name Edgar Allan Poe.
He wrote a poem called ‘The Raven’ about someone in woe.
So ode to the electrode, commode, the solar system, and the universe.
Hooray for poems that rhyme, things that are divine, and even free verse.
Bravo to poets who make me pine and all those who inspire my mind.
Let me pay a final tribute to the poets; Austen, Frost, and Poe.
I love to read a moving poem about loss and great human woe?


My favorite Frost poem is Road Less Taken; My favorite Poe poem is The Raven; And my favorite Austen poem is Ode to Pity.

*Definitions of pine: noun: have a desire for something or someone who is not present
Definitions of woe: noun: intense mournfulness, or misery resulting from affliction.

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I Wrote No Poem Today/ I Wrote No Poem Yesterday

I WROTE NO POEM TODAY/ I WROTE NO POEM YESTERDAY

I wrote no poem today-
I wrote no poem yesterday-
Will I write a poem tomorrow?
Perhaps all my lines are done-
And I must live out
The rest of my life
In silence-
God is Great
Am I a small small small voice still?

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A Poem Is Just A Poem

a poem is just a poem and if it is just a poem
it must be just a poem just like another poem

a poem is nothing but just a poem otherwise
it cannot be my poem; it may speak about

anything, or something, or about everything,
but my poem is just a poem just like anybody's

poem, which is just but a poem, like any other
poem, for a poem to be a poem it must just be

a poem: it has nothing to do with my love, and death
my life, or bliss, but as i have told you, once, twice

thrice, eat some rice, and be that wise, a poem is
just a poem, just like your poem. Why do you insist

on asking, what is happening to me? I am not a
poem, for i am but just the composer of the poem,

need i tell you again, that a poem is just a poem?
just like any other poem, which is just a poem

it is just a voice in my head that i have heard
someone comes and speaks and i listen so

this poem is not actually my poem but the poem
of someone else's: theirs not mine, from a mind.

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In Mind, In Pen

When I saw the film 'Laurence of Arabia'
I wrote a poem about the deserts.
If I saw a program over cooking,
I would write a poem about Desserts.

If I watched a program about Fishing
I'd probably write a poem over Lakes
when I saw the film ' Boa'
I wrote a poem about snakes

If I saw a T.V. show about farms
would I write a poem about a Hen?
And if I would see a documentary over 'Famine'
What would I write about then?

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No Poem Is An Original

No poem is an original
everyone who writes
poetry thinks their poem
was an original, it just so
happens that their poem just
surfaced to the top
of their mind first, so they
were able to write it.

Everyone has love, hate
compassion buried deep
in their soul.

Poets are able to bring
all of this to the surface,
to construct, add the words,
but it is not an original
idea, for the poet because
they wrote it now, it
becomes an original for them.

Who has not heard a song,
read a poem, story or book,
seen a movie and said,
to themselves, hey I had
that same idea.

Only thing is, someone else
brought it to the surface
of the mind, and wrote it first.
Even this poem I'm writing
now is not an original
someone out there
has this idea buried
deep in their soul.

So if you have an idea
for a poem, get busy
write it, don't wait,
or you won't write an original
start today,
don't delay.

wrote 2-2-07

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I Will Have Written Only One

I WILL HAVE WRITTEN ONLY ONE

I wrote another poem today
The poem that I wrote yesterday
Tomorrow I will write a poem
Whose meaning will not be unknown.

Again and again I continue to write
The single poem of my only life
When all my poems and writing are done
I will have written only one.

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The Poem I Wrote Yesterday/ The Poem I Write Today

THE POEM I WROTE YESTERDAY/THE POEM I WRITE TODAY

The poem I wrote yesterday
The poem I write today
The poem I will write tomorrow
What do they all mean?

Life goes on
Even my life will go on for a time
Without them.

True they give me hope now
But hope is another kind of delusion-

Creature of hopes and dreams delusions and poems
I go on now writing another poem hoping that you somewhere
Will want to know and read and remember it.

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The poem

I wrote a poem that didn't
ryhme,
i wrote a poem that didn't ryhme to the one I love,
i wrote a poem that didn't ryhme to the one I love
more than life,
i wrote a poem that didn't ryhme to the one I love more than life,
of which she did more than like,
the poem was short,
repeated myself alot,
but the one I loved more than life,
felt that love is like the poem I wrote,
full of joy and full of hurt,
the poem I wrote when I was full of hype,
coz the one I loved more than life is the one that now fills in my life all gaps,
the one that brings me up when am down,
a smile on my face from a frown,
music to my ears when we talk,
love in my heart when I'm near,
i wrote a poem that didn't ryhme for the one I love more than life.

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I Wrote A Poem Today

I WROTE A POEM TODAY

I wrote a poem today
I wrote a poem yesterday
Will I write a poem tomorrow?

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Robert Frost

I have never started a poem yet whose end I knew. Writing a poem is discovering.

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I Wrote A Poem Yesterday/ Can I Write A Poem Today?

I WROTE A POEM YESTERDAY/ CAN I WRITE A POEM TODAY?

I wrote a poem yesterday
Can I write a poem today?
Somehow all the poems of yesterday
Are not as needed
As a single small poem of today.
To have been alive even in the deepest way
Is not necessarily to be alive now.
These lines are my lifelines for the moment
Soon I will be gone
And there will come a day
When no poem will be written.

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This Poem

THIS POEM

This poem
This first poem
This last poem
This poem that invented Poetry
This one and only one poem
This fictional poem
This ideal poem
This perfect poem
This would – be holy poem
This unreal poem
This poem which is not a poem
This poem which is the essence of all poetry
This poem
And that poem
And my poem
And your poem
And all poems
Poem poem poem poem poem
This poem
Mine and yours
This one small poem of so so many
And not such a good poem at all.

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