Robert Wrigley: The Consciousness of Everything
That time’s lost now, when a stone could hurt,
when a feather missed its wing,
when sky kissed clouds and grass kissed dirt
and nothing thought itself just a thing.
Robert Frost: For Once, Then, Something
Others taunt me with having knelt at well-curbs
Always wrong to the light, so never seeing
Deeper down in the well…
Robert Frost: Storm Fear
I count our strength,
Two and a child,
Those of us not asleep subdued to mark
How the cold creeps as the fire dies at length…
Robert Frost: Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
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.
John F. Kennedy: The Purpose of Poetry
In a 1963 eulogy for Robert Frost, John F. Kennedy described poetry as “the means of saving power from itself.”
Peter Makuck: Grackles
But after a few minutes
they become bold and
like dark thoughts
return
Matthew Hollis: Edward Thomas, Robert Frost and the road to war
When Thomas and Frost met in London in 1913, neither had yet made his name as a poet. They became close, and each was vital to the other’s success. But then Frost wrote ‘The Road Not Taken’, which brought Thomas to an irreversible decision.
Edward Thomas: Rain
Rain, midnight rain, nothing but the wild rain
On this bleak hut, and solitude, and me
Robert Frost: “Out, Out—”
The buzz-saw snarled and rattled in the yard
And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood,
Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it.
Robert Frost: The Sound of the Trees
Why do we wish to bear
Forever the noise of these
More than another noise
So close to our dwelling place?
Video: Robert Frost reads “After Apple Picking” (text of poem included)
. After Apple Picking My long two-pointed ladder’s sticking through a tree Toward heaven still, And there’s a barrel that I didn’t fill Beside it, and there may be two … Continue reading
Robert Frost: Acquainted with the Night
I have been one acquainted with the night. I have walked out in rain—and back in rain. I have outwalked the furthest city light. I have looked down the saddest … Continue reading
Arlene Weiner: An Oven Bird (with apologies to Robert Frost)
We’d eaten quite as much as we were able of the brown bird that stood mid-meal, mid-table. We’d carved and passed it. Some had taken seconds, and when we pushed … Continue reading
Jose Padua: Courtesy
While stopped at a light this afternoon the big black pickup truck beside me was playing something like Toby Keith while I was sitting in my minivan playing “Right Off” … Continue reading
