Hour Thirteen

The Road Not Taken is one of the most famous poems ever written. I want you to take that poem and write your own completely original work. The title can be the same but everything else should be different. You can choose to focus on updating the poem, or re-writing it using different words, or take the theme and explore it in a different way. Your poem could just focus on mimicking the tone. You can do anything that you want as long as it ties in with Frost’s poem in some way.
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Three streets to choose from in lighthouse town,
And woe is me for time is too short
And as a wanderer, I went round
And walking on the path I soon found
Where the skies kissed the mountains of North;

Knowing which way to go, it’s quite the same
And what is thought to be right is right
Because at pinnacle light soon came,
From places made from cosmic remains
Where dark turned to light and light to night,

And from every peak a worthy view
That will be seen by new and old once there.
Oh, I had the heart to go and do.
But seeing the horizon I knew
My choices are mine alone to bear.
I shall be sharing this without delay
Nowhere eons and eons from here:
Three streets to choose from in town, but they,
They didn’t take any of them anyway,
And they never left that bottom tier.

here i am

i thought i was hopeless,
without direction or purpose
until one day i met myself,
coming around the corner of
midlife.
i almost bumped into her,
i was so engrossed in thoughts
i can’t now remember.
but there she was, clear as day,
bright as the sun,
happy to see me.
and i said, “hey, it’s you!”
and this self from beyond midlife
smiled, made her way around me
with a little dance in her step,
and said, with a song in her throat,
“get ready, girl,
your best is yet to come!”

Labels

I’m complicated
I’m uncontrollable
I’m a nightmare
I’m out of balance
I’m not quite
I speak my mind
I made mistakes
I’m not adjustable
I’m not a child
I have ambition
I’m materialistic towards my own earnings
I’m not in control of my crazy side
I’m no angel
I speak my emotions out loud
I attend to make assumptions
I don’t fake
I hate to compromise
I hate to lose, but I’m not a sore loser
I fall and rise back up
I’m not perfect
I like to think I don’t stereotype, but I had probably done it
I don’t believe in single stories
I’m aggressive when I had to be
I dislike bully.
I’m not an animal lover, but I won’t abuse them.
I believe the if you don’t like something or a situation , only you can make changes.
I trust, but I also verify.
I welcome changes, bc I’m not afraid of challenges.
I want it all, but I’m aware the I don’t get everything, only what I work hard for.
I learned not to expect other to see what I see.
I’m not a follower and don’t pretend to be a leader.
I’m in the pursuit of happiness and grateful for each day.
I’m sometimes everything
You don’t want and it’s ok.
I’m not a cage
The doors don’t have locks
Honesty it’s just the key in any mess.
I love a good chessboard game.
My obsession its to checkmate the king.
I’m smart
I’m not ordinary
I am me…
—Marquez Meriyen

Thirteenth poem

I wander down this path and see.
Another choice I need to make.
A split in the road just ahead of me.
Not the first I’ve seen, not the last to be.
And it’s always hard to know which to take.

Sometimes they wrap back up around
Meeting with the other choice.
But some are harder than they sound
And I fear I won’t be found
Before I lose my voice.

The Road Not Taken (hour 13)

Two roads in life,
I am not able to travel on both,
I had a chance to stood before both,
one was straight and wide,
The other was narrow and had alot of obstacles,
it was over grown with alot of bushes,

I now had to make a choice,
should I take the straight and wide ,
or the narrow and full of obstacles,
My heart skipped a beat, it was in my throat;
As i thought about what my choice will be,
I was tired and confused from looking and trying to decide,

I chose to go on the narrow path
Because it was less trodden and Heaven.
will be my grand reward for pressing on!
Faith chose me, i did not chose faith,
so i pushed forward and never looked back.

I am proud to say this, with out a doubt
somewhere down the road in the future:
Two roads one to life and the other to destruction, and I—
I chose the one no one chose to travel on,
That is what made me who I am today.

The courage I have found,
has made me turn around,
Only one road I am walking,
In my life time,
Only one Road that leads to life.

Green Fields

Poem13/24 “The Road Less Traveled”

Along the journey of life

There’s always two sides

One, who will lead to succeed

The other who will lead to drift

Two side built the same structures

Same features

Same fruits

Same roots

Each side has an options

Has an reflections

Has an regrets

Has an visions

The other side might have short cut

To let the traveler not get tired

But nearly, the endpoint will arrived

Didn’t know if the traveler will survived

The other side might too long

Too risky to prolong

More challenge, more cautions

Where a side, a traveler may belong

Its a matter of a good choice

Act not only by a voice

Its a matter of a very good desicion

Where a traveler can lie his motion

As a traveler to different ways

Think more than twice as those sun rays

That in the end

No regret

Don’t choose an easy path

It will pushed to an empty heart

Where a traveler can’t come back

And no place to start

Love

Your love will make.

My soul.

Burn for your kisses.

Your love will put the fire.

Out in my soul.

Prompt for Hour Fourteen

For this prompt I want you to write about food. Literary writing with a theme has become much more popular lately and there are a surprising number of literary journals devoted to publishing creative work about food.

You can tackle this theme from any angle. You can write about how much you love or hate a certain kind of food, you can rant about gluten intolerance, you can write about your favorite meal, or what food you loved as a child. The particulars are all up to you.

Washing the Dishes

I poured the liquid soap

Pale pistachio green shade

With ingredients to keep skin

Soft after all these years of

Being my own housewife I failed at

This and tonight I begin to

Wash some, but not all the

Dishes, pot, knives, forks, spoons

Laying there, yes I wash them by hand

No dishwasher, no modern

Apps to make things easier

Or more tolerant of tasks

I put off doing or skip entirely, no

I am defiant not going to

Do work without reward

Reminding me of the old

Fashioned way I live, obscure, dated

In black and white, no color

No stereo, no technology

To keep me company, none.