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Seven Circles of Frost

The Seven Circles of Frost
A Poem on The Road Not Taken

Reading Frost on a Frosty Day I begun to think
What he had to say.
Two roads in front of him Equally lay…
One looking worn, a little grey The other brand new,
Shiny dared by a few.
And from the bard comes a paradox Of which door opens, when one knocks.
The Road less travelled He says with pride
Is there a puzzle in the maze in the riddle inside?
Go Forth Boldly
It means to some
But do think twice for some do strum And walk their walk to a different drum.
A beat that beats to a different beat Meaning not always what they doublespeak.
Truthfully there,
For those who Seek
But not for the frail
And, not meant for the weak.
“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry He was could not travel both As one traveler, long he stood
And looked down one as far as he 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.” But really perhaps,
He found no ways forwards, And No Ways back.
For as foretold:
The road to Hell is paved with gold Like Dante’s Inferno
life slowly unfolds
Burns wise mens eyes
blinds poor mens souls.

After walking leisurely around the bend He sees them both equal in the end. But equal then how did he know? The other a mystery left untold
Forever sealed Not meant to unfold.
It made no difference
Then in the end
Which went straight
and which had a bend
Life is not a game of
Nor a flip of the coin, or based on a glance.
“It was the road”
We tell ourselves
But was it really the road In The End?
Or did but just
of me,
bite the apple that fell from that tree?

My Foes: Did I Fear,
Did I Fight,
Did I Flee?
How much by force was taken by me? How did I walk upon that path
Did the world get to feel my wrath? Did my life have both joy and strife? Did my words ever cut like a knife? Did I live and love and hate
Did I ever
Scorch the ground with my gait.
Did I have vision, or merely just see And did poor Zeus
throw his lightbolt at me
Only to miss,
because Me
was a We?

Fire and Ice make a good match To spark a spark
To match a match.
Life upon on life was never enough For life piles on life
We see too much
To walk the walk endlessly
To hoard with the horde,
Would that give us glee?
Did we show the World to be One
The chosen Two, anointed Suns.
Did the Sky Glow, from bridges We Burnt What did we eat, Where did we Hunt? Did we sit by the Waterfront
And laugh and cry
And recount every stunt.
Did we drink life to the lees
Swim the Oceans and cross the seas
To meet the great Democlates?
And did he then avert his gaze with a glance
Knowing he had been given, one more chance.
Did we ever find what makes men free
Did we see every sight,
Hear every plea.
Who did we love, Who did we hate
Did we lay waste to Alexander the Great
Both Fire and Ice, You see
is our Fate.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
And in the middle there I stood
We walked neither road
and both
with a Smile
By walking all Walks
the Walk was worthwile.

About this poem

Introduction “The Road Not Taken” seems straightforward: a nameless traveler is faced with a choice: two paths forward, with only one to walk. But for a century readers and critics have fought bitterly over what the poem really says. Is it a paean to triumphant self-assertion, where an individual boldly chooses to live outside conformity? Or a biting commentary on human self-deception, where a person chooses between identical roads and yet later romanticizes the decision as life altering? Or artfully reveals is that the poem speaks to both of these impulses, and all the possibilities that lie between them.  

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Written on November 15, 2022

Submitted by cmd_1 on November 15, 2022

Modified on March 05, 2023

3:33 min read

Quick analysis:

Closest metre Iambic pentameter
Characters 3,391
Words 710
Stanzas 6
Stanza Lengths 2, 24, 16, 12, 24, 7

India C. Ebrahim

India C. Ebrahim is an Indian poet and grandson of the famous playwright Asif E. Currimbhoy more…

All India C. Ebrahim poems | India C. Ebrahim Books

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