Poetic challenge using Frost's 'Stopping by Woods...", same format, your own story Options

[Cleo_Serapis]

Hi all,

Based on Mary's thread in here Karnak Critiquing Robert Frost, I've been inspired to throw out a challenge.

Taking Frost's poem below, create your own using the same end words and format as his. The words are: know, though, here, snow / queer, near, lake, year / shake, mistake, sweep, flake / deep, keep, sleep, sleep.

Good luck!
~Cleo

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening


Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Robert Frost, 1922

[heartsong7]

version 2:
Out of the Woods

What sound is that? I think I know.
I've heard it pierce the night and though
I've never seen her passing here,
she leaves her footprints in the snow--
and what a scent! It strikes me queer
a wampas cat *would come so near
our town or out onto the lake
where ice is thin this time of year.
At night, when wooden shutters shake,
we hide inside, Make no mistake,
it's not the wind. When shrill shrieks sweep
through trees, removing every flake
of snow, then from the forest deep,
she comes to take your soul to keep
while you are dreaming, sound asleep
Beware and do not dare to sleep.

*read about the legend of the wampus cat here:
http://ksks.essortment.com/wampuscat_rvmr.htm

version 1:
Out of the Woods, it Comes

What sound is that? I think I know.
I've heard it pierce the night and though
I've never seen her passing here,
she leaves her footprints in the snow--
humongous feet! It strikes me queer
she'd choose to stomp around so near
our town or out onto the lake
where ice is thin this time of year.
At night, when wooden shutters shake,
we hide inside, Make no mistake,
it's not the wind. What shrill shrieks sweep
through towering trees? It's Fraulein Flake,
from where the woods are dank and deep,
who comes to take your soul to keep
while you are dreaming, sound asleep.
Beware and do not dare to sleep.