They met on the equinox like spirits out of an ancient myth,
To paint the leaves gold and kiss the summer goodbye.
For a brief moment, everything did turn shiny and new, solid.

But Frost came, reminding that Nothing Gold Can Stay
And they grew brown and dry.
Winter went by,
Silent and haunting like a ghost:
White sheets thrown on a body made of fire to suffocate the flame.

They met again for a pink and a red moon,
In some mystical manner once more,
To break and wreak havoc
And divide.

The storm drowned Percy on the coasts of Italy, 'heart of hearts' written on the stone.
They sent his to Mary in England,
Its resting place a dusty drawer for years.

At least he didn't turn around to see her,
She didn't disappear.

Two posts emerged on my Facebook,
And sorry I could not peruse both
And be one user, long I stood
And scrolled down one as far as I could
To where it went into a long blockquote;

Then read the other, as just as shared,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was classy and about footwear;
Though as for that the likes there
Had rated them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
I believe with no comments written back.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever tap back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two posts emerged on my Facebook, and I—
I read the one less thumbed-up by,
And that has made all the difference.

Take me to where the sidewalk ends.
Past the dark streets that wind and bend.
Return me to what I used to know.
Bring me to the roads diverged into the wood.
Let me take the road less traveled as I should.
I refuse to stay along this normal path.

~A parody inspired by "The Road Not Taken" by Robert Frost~

Two drunks converged in a crowded bar
And sorry that I knew them both
And be one patron, long I stared
Looking out for each I really cared
As both of them bent I swore an oath;

I helped the one, and deemed it fair
He having perhaps the better claim
His eyes more glassy and worse for wear
Though the other also was passed out there
In reality both wasted about the same.

And both next morning equally lay
In heaps their missteps left them in.
Oh, I wished them both a better day!
Yet knowing how wine can make you stray,
I concluded they both would repeat their sin.

Forever I’ll be telling this with a sigh
Everywhere ages and ages hence:
Two drunks converged in a bar, and I—
I helped the one most weakened by,
Stirred but not shaken in diffidence.


© 2020 by Mark Toney.  All rights reserved.

Mr. Frost, so prolific that you are
I was hoping that you could advise
For I find myself in a yellow wood
And I too am but just one traveler
My two feet can only tread in one direction

And I long to leave a black boot mark
While I continue down the right path
Leading me so expertly to destiny
But much like you, obstacles arise
But unlike you, my path further divides

Where you stood before a fork
I now spy a great and twisted rake
That fills me with impending dread
Paths varied in their wear and tear
From paved to grassy, or overgrown

Mr. Frost, here is my dilemma
You chose the path less traveled
And it made all the difference in your life
But how can one traveler ever know
Which specific path for them is right?

Fog...

                  From an idea suggested by Pharaohnica

                              And with a tip of that cat to
                           Carl Sandburg and Robert Frost

Invisible to radar, mizzle falls
Itself making the distance invisible
Sandburg said that fog creeps in on little cat feet
But rain-fog is sometimes the entire cat

And if you walk outside into the cat
Beyond the cat, the paws, what will you find
Perhaps, like Schrodinger, the cat is not
But then again, like you, maybe it is

The mystery is lovely, dark, and deep
But we have chores to tend, and they won’t keep

There was a brown haired regional manager on my tv screen
There was an empty Reese’s blizzard cup in my left hand
There was my mother still out front of the house in her car

And

There was my college bound brother sitting on the couch watching alone

I began walking up the wooden staircase
Making my way to my room

The place where I would
Shut my door
Grab my phone
And leave my family behind like always

I’m telling you this without a sigh
And I’m telling you this with no regrets
The story of a staircase

An after ice cream staircase
On an after ice cream night

A staircase my feet didn’t touch  
As I chose to sit on a couch
And spend silently spent and silently recognized time
With my silently recognized role model

And that has made all the difference