~ POETRY ~
As promised, I must share with you two of my favorite poems to honor National Poetry Month. How about a little Frost and Thomas? And unlike our beloved Kid President, I happen to think that Robert Frost is cool. And it’s thematic, as well. Have a read:
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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.
I’ve accomplished a lot more than I had anticipated I would at this point of the month. I’d like to think that I have taken the road less traveled. Well, maybe it’s well traveled, but I overpacked. Two novels, a blogging challenge, and a Round of Words in 80 Days? I am as much tortured as I am an artist. Masochism aside, I feel accomplished. To quote another great from a previous post: “My head is bloody, but unbowed.” In this case, my fingers are numb, but still attached. It just doesn’t have that same ring to it, methinks.
Whether it’s this writing challenge or my entire writing career, I know I’ve barely scratched the surface of my full potential as a writer and storyteller in this global community. It’s so easy to get sidetracked on the path to publication. Distractions can keep you from your plans. While I don’t want to have blinders on so I can indeed stop and enjoy everything around me from time to time, I need to keep in mind my long-term goals and the importance of achieving them. Many adventures, challenges, and opportunities await before I take my final breath. With that in mind, I write on and move forward.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
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Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
You could go throughout your entire life without doing anything significant. Sure, you have a plan and you can see it there in the final hours. That is not to say that you need to make yourself known to the world, famous or infamous. But this is in line with yesterday’s post. How do you want to live your life? Each moment should be savored. Each opportunity taken else it is a waste. But I dare you not to conform. Do not settle. Before the end of it all, make a difference, even if it is just to one other person in the world. Remember the journey as well as the destination.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
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Let me end this poetic post with a bonus that many of you will appreciate. A lyrical genius by the name of Ferris Bueller had this to say:
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Today’s theme is brought to you by the letter
Textploits of the Writerly Persuasion 