I've always loved the poem...seems more relevant now even.
My re-visit to Robert Frost's "Stoppi... - Advanced Prostate...
My re-visit to Robert Frost's "Stopping by Woods...."
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“Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening” is one of my faves, as well as another Frost poem, “Mending Wall.” I used them both many years ago when student teaching an English class to 9th graders. I also had the kiddies do a comparison of the outlook between Whitman’s “I hear America Singing” and Steppenwolf’s “Monster/Suicide/America.” Tried to teach the little monsters to not just read poetry, but also to think for themselves, and draw their own conclusions. I summarized the lesson by paraphrasing Dylan (no...not Dylan Thomas...the other one from Minniesnowta) with “we all see the same things. We just see them from a different point of view.” Same thing happens in here occasionally. My best was Randall Jarrell’s “Death of the Ball Turret Gunner.” Five lines that speak volumes.
Those two poems, "Stopping" and "Mending" are my favorite poems...by R. Frost...and possibly my favorite ones, period. I wrote the "re-visiting" one a couple of years ago...this cancer keeps being compared to a "journey" ...so nothing seems more fitting than taking time from the journey to enjoy "beauty".
John
My choir sang an arrangement of "Stopping By the Woods on a Snowy Evening. One of my favorite memories from choir.
In terms of (PCa) relevance to me, his lines from "The Road Not Taken" come to mind:
"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference."
-Patrick
If you may not have read it, you guys might find some contemporary meaning from the book ... When Breath Becomes Air, by Paul Kalanithi.
I recall taking the time to read it quietly aloud to myself during periods of solitude a couple of years ago, often with tears softly rolling down my cheeks.
Charles
Love it.
Hi greatjohn,
Great words by Frost. Thanks for sharing.
Take care and my very best to you.
Regards,
Haniff
Magic and Loss (The Summation)
Lou Reed
When you pass through the fire
You pass through humble
You pass through a maze of self doubt
When you pass through humble
The lights can blind you
Some people never figure that out
You pass through arrogance, you pass through hurt
You pass through an ever-present past
And it's best not to wait for luck to save you
Pass through the fire to the light
As you pass through the fire
Your right hand waving
There are things you have to throw out
That caustic dread inside your head
Will never help you out
You have to be very strong
'Cause you'll start from zero
Over and over again
And as the smoke clears
There's an all-consuming fire
Lying straight ahead
They say no one person can do it all
But you want to in your head
But you can't be Joyce
So what is left instead?
You're…
Frost is spot on for me too.
May you encounter the Falcon on your next walk in the woods. From Gerard Manley Hopkins,
I caught this morning morning's minion, king-
dom of daylight's dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding
Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding
High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing
In his ecstasy! then off, off forth on swing,
As a skate's heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the hurl and gliding
Rebuffed the big wind. My heart in hiding
Stirred for a bird, – the achieve of, the mastery of the thing!
Brute beauty and valour and act, oh, air, pride, plume, here
Buckle! AND the fire that breaks from thee then, a billion
Times told lovelier, more dangerous, O my chevalier!
No wonder of it: shéer plód makes plough down sillion
Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear,
Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermilion.
This sends chills up my spine. (Thank you Litlerny)
Randall Jarrell’s “Death of the Ball Turret Gunner.”
From my mother’s sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.
Randall Jarrell was struck by a car and killed at the age of fifty-one on October 14, 1965.
Well guys here's mine (marching with a cadence count).
"When I die bury me, hang my balls* from a cherry tree".
Sound off 1, 2 Sound off 3, 4
bring it on down,1 2 3 4, 1 2 3 4
*assuming I still have them.
Good Luck, Good Health and Good Humor.
j-o-h-n Friday 02/01/2019 2:30 PM EST