And I thought yesterday’s prompt was out of my comfort zone! To write a strictly metered poem (that rhymes!) in the style of Robert Frost was a wrestling match for my free form, wandering, rhythmic self. Once again, thanks for getting me out of my comfort zone with today’s prompt, #NaPoWriMo. Technically, I should have written about a path I didn’t travel, but I am convinced that I could have gone down no other road than the one I did and, though it has been challenging, it has been a wonderful, wild journey.
The Only Road
Far more than two clear cut paths diverged Plus temptation to bumble through brush Perhaps I should have paused at first merge Heeded the scolding of wild thrush Lingered long as each new fork converged;
But who can reach back, warn yesterday That some paths wind 'round crumbling graveyards Some swipe thorny claws to snatch away Many simply end, stone walls as guards Pretty few gift meadows of sunray
I shouldn't contradict my elder Still, I uphold the well worn wrong way As we journey, path's differences blur With open hands, I've gleaned from the fray Gifts were given each twist, stone and burr
I've darted down road after wrong road Stumbled then backtracked then wandered free Skipped merry towards outcomes forebode Slept in a branch of ancient oak tree At last learned to weigh the path I strode