The Rough One
After I wrote it I realized how it is reminscent of Robert Frost- (the path poem), I cannot remember the name for the life of me but I remember the way and the rhythm of the poem. Beautiful piece. Well, this is my own, no matter how reminscent it may be of that previous masterpiece by a poet lord!
I have proved combative—
I’ve been trottin’
Down the same old broken path
All my life—
Alas, through broken twigs
Thorned horizons,
Nasty rusted trucks a passin’
Squirting oil in my way—
Now,
No one can tell me
Whether I am weak or strong.
A boost there, and here a slip
O, energy costs time and money-
A session, I’ll pay a fine amount
A friend, I’ll get their shoulder good and wet
Love, I’ll sacrifice a piece of my heartLearning to give it all away—
When it is true, from within it came
But alone, a traveler on a dirt road
Trodden and scrappy,
On it, not knowing which fork to eye
Nor which path to take beyond a road split
Not knowing which sign to kick down
Or road rule to break… but I see
A road, a rough one,
Albeit, the way that is right.
I saw that road on a fork,
Waiting below the trees—
I saw several roads
One with dirt, it was dry and rocky… lucious cactus’ strewn
I saw another, fertile and flowered, lightly flawed
Another, muddy and deep—
Each and every branching path
Burning with desire—
Holding promises so dark
Also, perhaps, so brightly radiant.
Seeking to not obscure myself
On the beaten path
Choosing a map, a friend
From foes and easy direction
O, that rough, winding road for which I walk alone
To get to the place
From which I may always return—
A path that speaks to me,
One where I can hear my voice echoeing off the map.
I see it still
A road, a rough one
I am on it, this stoney road…
Sparkles of gems catching my eye…
But it is just the sun
So bright in its promise
Or perhaps the moon
With tender gleem
I keep on a trottin’,
I smell the flowers and
Hang my jewlery on the trees
I am here to walk it,
The rough one.
