A Poet’s Poet (Robert Frost)

Whose words employ keen sense for wait,
Condense clear thought, embody fate?
Then pausing find the mind to share
Adventure’s ride through God’s estate.

With stylish class and natural flair
Keen eye observes and then lays bare
A sense that sates in finer wine,
Compassion’s grace save blinding glare.

A promise made then shared in rhyme
Each milestone laid still marking time.
From woods of snow to climax height
With ceaseless care for upward climb.

‘Tis Frost that warms stark still of night,
Lends wind to wings for lofty flight,
Who takes my days and paints them bright
And all because he paused to write …

© 2008 Joy A. Burki-Watson

Author notes:
My thoughts on a poet’s poet and how their dedication to sharing those silent moments can arouse one’s silent self to walk along.

A contest entry:
“In Honor of Frost” by Jim Berkheiser. 1560 points, ends February 5, 6 entries

http://allpoetry.com/poem/3836773

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

“Trees”

I find that trees aren’t hard to please
Perhaps with this, you will agree …
For trees don’t shout ~ expand their chest
Or act like they know what is best;

Their elegance with bend and sway
Exemplifies without betray.
There’s never cause for curse or swear
Good nature finds true friendship there!

Their heart would serve but never strain
Your heart, your soul, your mind or brain.
Some dogs have attributes like these
Their nuance comes with bark disease …

© 2007 Joy A. Burki-Watson

A Few Figs from Thistles, by Edna St. Vincent Millay

First Fig:
MY CANDLE burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends –
It gives a lovely light!

Second Fig:
SAFE upon the solid rock the ugly houses stand:
Come and see my shining palace built upon the sand!

Good luck with your new club!