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2006·09·14 · 2 Comments
Friday Favorite: A Favorite Poem

I know, it's not Friday. If Jonathan Moorhead can post his Quotation Friday posts on Thursday, then I can follow suit. I have decided to invite your participation on Fridays (or thereabouts) answering a random question. This week, a favorite poem.

The Road Not Taken
by Robert Frost

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.

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.

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.

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.

My kids have been learning this poem this week. The Road Not Taken is one of my favorite poems. I believe its message is exceedingly relevant today, as, while individualism and diversity are trumpeted as the highest of ideals, originality and independent thinking are among the rarest comodities.

Do you have a favorite poem? Why is it a favorite?

by David
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2 Comments:

1. 06·09·14··11:10
Carla Rolfe

You're going to laugh, but here it is:

Old rock hounds never die,
they just slowly petrify.

Yep, that's it.

When I was a little girl, my grandpa was a rock hound. He collected them, polished them, cut them, made jewelery & even furniture out of them. The things grandpa could do with rocks was just fascinating to me. The trips to agate beach were always like a trip to some vast treasure hunting field, where my brother and I would do our best to collect THE best agate, that would make grandpa so proud of us.

For his birthday or Christmas one year, someone gave him a little plaque that was rough cut from a piece of wood, and that poem was on it. It proudly hung on the kitchen wall next to the old black rotary dial phone for the next 35+ years. Far as I know, it's still there. Grandpa passed away November 9, 1993, just six days after his 83rd birthday, and just a little over a year after receiving the Lord Jesus Christ as his Saviour.

My very first blog post (at my old blog) was to honor my grandpa and tell his conversion story.

So yes, I have a favorite poem. It's corny, it's goofy, and it says lots about my grandpa.

:o)

2. 06·09·14··12:09
David

Carla, that's good, that's what I'm looking for. Sometimes it's just little, foolish things that remind us of something bigger.

When I was a kid, one of my favorite poems was:

Fatty and Skinny
  went to bed
Fatty rolled over,
  and Skinny was dead

I don't even have a poignant story to go with it.


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