What Comes Next?

I came to what I did not know
This morning
But did not stop.

I kept on going
And went on to other familiar scenes,

Through repetition
And again my path became unfamiliar.

I left Frost in his woods
Talking to his horse
And went into the town I’d come from,
….
…Begetting …
…Forgetting …
By getting to what I had seen before,

But continuing
Until I got to what I did not know

Stopping,
Stopped by it,
And going on to see what came next.

I never knew self-doubt to feel so natural until I read this.

I love the well structured tempo and texture. And putting Frost in like that is a great touch.

When good peoms like this are read aloud to a group the space just opens up. I am going to read this one to a little group I belong to, because I know they will enjoy it and honor it. We refer to sharing sucn little gems as "stealing sugar".
Thanks
Steve

You're welcome to it. I view the words of my poems as part of the language I draw from. Thanks for visiting and commenting, and I hope you have fun.

amo,

Peter

What came next? If we only knew what lies around the next bend, would it change how we live our lives?


Les

Les,

Everything seems to change our lives, even when it affirms them in their present path.

Thanks for bringing this back, as I seldom get to call on Frost to strengthen a thought.

Peter