Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, 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 now I have no idea where I am...
I'm lost in the woods. Why didn't I stick
To the road more traveled by?
Where the crap am I? What was that sound?
Help, help. Someone please help me.
by Robert Frost (with some slight changes by M. Fourchette)
by Robert Frost (with some slight changes by M. Fourchette)
9 comments:
that creative line...that line that separates innocent cajoling from insouciant desecration...that line you're always worried about crossing?
Look behind you.
He's dead for goodness' sake.
I think Mr. Lafferty needs to have a laugh or two. Being dead does not exclude one from being the subject of jest. Far from it! If anything, it makes one more susceptible. Because, think about it...when you're dead, will you really care what people say about you? Probably not. You're dead. So, I say, Kudos, M. Fourchette! The Road Less Traveled By has become cliche and you took action! Thank you for taking the trite and making it insightful again...even if ever so slightly irreverent. I love it! Give me more! MORE!!!
Great goodness...what happened here???
Inspired by getting temporarily lost this weekend whilst on a hike, I thought I'd post a more accurate version of what happens when one takes the road less traveled.
Besides, every artist in America was inspired by this poem at one time or another. Take me for example. I read this poem as a kid and thought, "Yes! I'll take the road less traveled!" Then, years later, one pauses and thinks, "Why did I think living in squalor would be fun? Give me the road more traveled by!"
THAT'S what I was doing with this. It's irony.
Now let's simmer down, pumpkins.
A post-script...
I think this was one of those "You-had-to-be-there-and-actually-see-the-literal-fork-in-the-forest-path-that-I-saw-this-weekend" moments. That path less traveled was full of brambles, briars, sharp rocks, blood-sucking chiggers, and slumbering serpents. I stood there for a moment and then said sarcastically, "Hey guys! Let's take the road less traveled." T'was met with many a guffaw.
See? It's that curious twist of humor that comes when you mix the metaphorical with the literal.
Amen! And I'm not just saying that because I was there...I think many 20-somethings will agree with me: we've come to a point in our lives where EVERY single decision we've ever made is having BIG, realistic consequenses. That idealistic life vision we had in high school starts to seem like not such a good idea after all. I'm poor, I'm tired, and I have to work for a living! If I had only taken the road MOST traveled by, I'd be tired and I'd have to work for a living, but I would most definately not be poor...and that...THAT...would make all the difference.
Oh...my...
(shakes head and chuckles)
I have to add that even though the Bard is dead that hasn't stopped them from slapping me in fishnets and calling it Culture.
Shakespeare/Marlowe is spinning in his grave!
yes, yes he is...and possibly Bette Davis, too...
You are bastard people!
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