An Acrostic on Two Roads –

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(The Road Not Taken, by Robert Frost)

 

This world opens

roads of all diverse sincerities

dubious insights vying, each road granting entry differently,

inspired not

altogether,

yet each letting loose over wild

whimsies of opened dreams.

 

All new dreams

seep over rustic rushes, yielding

into

clammy, orphaned, understated life, despairing

nothing other than

tents removed and vaulted, each leaving

brothers of the heart.

 

Another never discovered

better ether

or never explored

the rest and vexing, entered long enchanting rivets

left over night grown

in

saline tongues of old dishes.

 

Anytime night dries

lying open, out knocking

differences over wishes now,

owning no expense

and setting

faces as rigid

as stone

in

cold ordered undercurrents left dissident.

 

The other,

winding, here ending riches, ended

in taste

before each necessary trio

in nonconforming

tangles, heaping eagerly

up near dear eternity rests, glowing round with tempered heats.

 

Then having each new

trade of open kindness,

this here establishes

our true humors, entered restlessly,

and singing

jollies uncertain – still this

aching sore

finds an inner repose.

 

As never dreamt,

here a value is newly given,

paid enough respect, having a penchant surreal,

to have elated

bright, eagerly tried, tear-eaten ruts

cut long across inner masks.

 

But enough cause and use seems evaded

in tow

with a song

guiding rains and singing salted yeast,

(a northern delicacy)

whipped and nostril-tied, each dear

weapon edged and ready.

 

This has our undercurrent going heavy

and silent,

fanning out radials

that have a track

that heavens escape,

preoccupied and sent sailing in newer grasses

to hail each reticent end.

 

However, a doe

wears out relatively new

trails here, entering mildly,

rueful ever about latent lions yelling

and boring on under the

tempered haven encamped

silently amidst mowed entrenchments.

 

A nibbled dent

between our touching hands

that hold a treat

meant only, reflecting not, in nails gained,

escorted quite unevenly and left laying yonder

looking at you.

 

I note:

love ever after vows each step

not only

secretly – there each promise

has a destiny

that reaches our delayed death, ending naively

before love actually comes knightly.

 

One hope

I

know either providence trusts,

though half-edged

forward, I rest securely tonight,

fearless, or retiring

and never opening this heart enjoined repose

deep and yearning.

 

Yearning effectually, this

keeling nonsense of ways ingrain new guesses

having out with

ways after your

lessoning erupts and deals softly

on negligent

trails of

wakening and yielding.

 

Instead

deafly ordered underlings buy tents enfleshed, dispirited

into flames

ired

sickly heavy or unconsciously laid down

ever vied, ever ready,

calling out mistaken encouragement

before a child kneeling.

 

I

surrender here a lowing lull

by entering

this election, logic left in neutral guess

to his unswerving season,

while I take hold,

again

stayed in great hesitation.

 

Symbols of my eternity were heard ‘ere rising, enthroned

against grace’s eager succor

and new deliveries

although glaring ensigns still

herald each new choice encountered.

 

They will observe

rich offerings ahead, down steady,

draped in veracity entered red, growing each day

in nobility,

and

wearing out ourselves deploring

all naive doubts

interrupting.

 

I

traded out our knife,

the hard escape

of no earnest

left ended, set sadly,

tolled ribs and veiled eyes lying eastward, dimly

breaking yesterday.

 

A new direction,

taking hand and toe,

has already set

my attitude: desperately encouraged,

and living love

through holy enchantment –

dearly, I found friendship eternal reaching each new chosen engagement.

 

 

Two Roads – Frost

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Robert Frost (1874–1963).  Mountain Interval.  1920.

  

1. The Road Not Taken

  

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,

 

And sorry I could not travel both

 

And be one traveler, long I stood

 

And looked down one as far as I could

 

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

        5

  

 

Then took the other, as just as fair,

 

And having perhaps the better claim,

 

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

 

Though as for that the passing there

 

Had worn them really about the same,

        10

  

 

And both that morning equally lay

 

In leaves no step had trodden black.

 

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

 

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

 

I doubted if I should ever come back.

        15

  

 

I shall be telling this with a sigh

 

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

 

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

 

I took the one less traveled by,

 

And that has made all the difference.

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Acrost a bubbling sonnet

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Two hermits enter rest, enter

into solace;

attunement,

placing lace above covered ears

where howls end, receding enjoinment.

Bubbles upon bubbles burst like eastern stars,

washed in long laments,

cried over lost longing in desperate evasion.

 

We hide every nexus,

willing our rude deeds silent.

Behind each hidden offering, locked doors exist now,

facing all I lack,

adding new distance

for all lifted language

by every tested will endured… enduring now.

 

Art

found roughly around generous inklings, like embers

sparking patches ablaze, channeling electric

whispers in the hallows.

They initiate new trysts each day,

centered round your starlit twins and laugh

headlong into deep embrace.

 

We have each recently entered

houses encased; riddle-minded instincts telling secrets

struck in twain

under peels of negligence

and

glistening on lazy dream-edged nests

marking ends and news.

 

Islets

prove an insightful nonsense today,

(meaning yesterday)

with all length luring strength,

wrested in the heart.

Entities, living entities gaze and notice conspicuous ears,

and nervous dares

chime after reasoned ends.

 

Whispers in the history of us tonight:

especial noise opens unto guarded heights

raining efforts, growing antique rose dialects.

Fall over risk

on the hope each reason

estimates you endure so.

 

Why have only sighs? Ease

gently across zephyr easels

held and set,

cupped and ushering great heat towards

attenuation.

Given light I might perceive semblances ergo

other faces

meeting your’s

and relinquishing tense

beats and resounding excitement.

 

Although never doubting,

faults remain of mistaken

beauties, each hiding in notched doors

and

molded unsure down deep, leaving each disparate

method etched so secure

in tandem,

so penned in either space.

 

Feeling out resonance

for each act recorded

against notched doors,

baleful elegance and unknown tributes yearn

away with eternity

and noticeable direction.

We often need different effected routines

for upset settings ended.

 

All need deliverance

from our rich madness

and

selfish terror of rude mourning.

Altogether counted right over selected sections

(aspects)

for integral elements let down

over fields

grown ripe ever, even now…

 

Outstanding, under thoughts shaded in deep electric

shimmers, half opened, with ice nourished graces,

deeper and redder kindling

dances endlessly spilling portents and inquiries round intertwining netted gates;

hair undone – endlessly swaying.

 

Bells utter tenderness

inside neatly stacked intriguing dream estates

for other loud donations in novel gratuity,

outside under their

attics,

gently reassuring a calm embrace.

Still, endearing resonance, entreats nestled eaves.

 

Yet ever true,

it nears

a lost love,

trusted here in solace.

Yesterday only understand responses

echoed yes, ending softly.

Sleek esteemed enquiries knowing

jasmine under stilted time,

owe nothing especial,

however unusually even.

 

In ‘magical

portents aligned in nebulous time inside new grey

limitless islets, north, east, south

to oeste

sings a yearning

to hold a thimbleful,    

indeed

little of value escapes

your open universe.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

Two – (a Riddle)

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Two will cripple a man,

more than sharpest pain,

or cruelest injury.

Plague and Pestilence

cannot break the spirit

with the Elegance and Ease

by which these Two

rend man asunder.

 

One dances through the light,

rejoicing in a river of praise

that flows from the lips of man and woman alike.

The other skulks in the shadows,

shunned, scorned,

unspoken.

One fills the heart with wonder and joy.

The other turns the blood cold and numb with terror.

 

They take sight from the eyes and give weakness to the knees.

They make the wise numb and set passions aflame.

They are the fraternal twins of the green planet,

the Nightbird and the Morningstar,

that at once bring the dead to life

and bring life to the flame.

They share their Lovers,

keeping nothing to themselves –

To kiss one is to embrace the other.

 

Perhaps, in the end,

it is these Two who will rule us all,

Fate and Fortune dancing between them,

and all the grand Cosmos lost in their play.