In the Hands of An Angry God

The Road not Taken
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.

Life is monotonous. Life is static. I haven't written anything creative lately and that has slightly depressed me. So this is where I am. Back at the beginning. I don't think I'm a great writer but I like expressing myself and it seems that its the same things over and over again. The same poor cliche's written over and over again. Anyway, I've always been struck by the poem above. I try to live my life by it's messages from the heart of Poet Robert Frost. This is where I began. This is where I start again.

Deep down the shipwreck mess,
at the edge of the waves in your sheets,
crawl slowly down to red rock pier,
hide low in the spring marsh reeds,
hear the hum hum hum of distant shores,
wash gently against your feet,
Watch the mounting swell build
across a blue green sea.
And we wait and watch the inlets mouth,
for signs of sailors dead and drowned,
and hope love will find us here.

In case you're wondering where the idea of the poem came from, it was from this house which had a chair on top of it. No more then five minutes from my house is a house where a chair sits on the very top. Although no one really knows why the chair is up there many people have their theories. Some say that a woman used to sit at the top of this house and watched for her husband to come home from the Navy. She one day died at the top. They say the house is haunted with the ghost of the woman and the only way to calm her wandering soul is to leave a chair on top of the house so she can sit and watch the inlet. Love lost at sea.