Robert Frost Snippet Challenge, a new kind of challenge... Options

[Cleo_Serapis]

This will be 'familiar' to some of you.....

I thought it might be fun to try and use several of Robert Frost's Poetry "snippets" and form a new poem, prose or short story tile using 'snippet/words' from his various poems.

I will supply the words. You can use them as the beginning of a line or mix them up as long as the snippets remain intact. Good luck!  

I must go and write an example , but I wanted to post this thread in the meantime here. Pleease ADD your tiles as a REPLY to this thread.  

Here are the snippets you must use (in any order).
There are 12 snippets. You must use at least 8.
Cheers and good luck!
~Cleo  

The woods are lovely
bent in the undergrowth
One luminary clock
had that flower
and the shade of trees
Where your face burns and tickles
our place among the infinities
To wash the steps
Some say the world
Of the great harvest
A small bird flew
Nothing gold can stay

[Cleo_Serapis]

Ok - here is my Robert Frost challenge:  :)

Undergrowth of Uncertainty

Kismet comes to wash
the steps of ethereal forces
bent in the undergrowth
of uncertainty.

Journeys of jocular
interludes of the
great harvest flourish.

Had that soil found
its cornucopia where
the sun surfaces
primal prosperity?

Had that flower found
its wealth where the
woods are lovely and
the shade of trees
soothe?

A small bird flew to
the garden of life to
drink of its nourishment.

Others came and went,
giving and receiving
seasonal bounty.

As one luminary clock
calculates cycle's
completion, nothing
gold can stay, for
its time is measured.

Some say the world
discounts Nature’s
fortunes. I disagree.

_{Copyright © Lorraine M. Kanter}

[Guest_Zeus²_*]

 
34% yours,66% mine, or
Woods, Fields and Time

One luminary clock
chimed away the moments,
to wash the steps
that once were.

I remember the time,
lying in the grass.
You had that flower
in your hair.

And the shade of trees
dancing on your face,
laughing and silly.
The woods are lovely,
a place to be with you.

Where your face burns and tickles,
as we ran thru
bent in the undergrowth,
our place among the infinities.

Nothing gold can stay
like the color of your hair,
grown of the great harvest
it’s golden fields of wheat
waving in the breeze.

Some say the world
will end one day,
not in our lifetime
or our childrens.

There is love and hope,
a small bird flew by

and told me so.

[Guest__*]

ONE REMAINS, IN THE CUCKOO'S NEST .....

A small bird flew fleetingly, tweetingly,
over one luminary clock, stopped at five past five.
The woods are lovely this time of year,
Spoiled only by this one damned cuckoo.

I, bent, in the undergrowth, search;
and delving, thought I had that flower
which I've been seeking in clearings, glades;
had it nailed to our place among the infinities.

Hark, when you fail, that is bad. Worse,
where your face burns and tickles
with embarrassment : nothing gold can stay
for man, when God makes ownership

Of the great harvest His; the spring of the grass
and the shade of trees. Some say the world
is a better place for His munificience.
Meanwhile I will continue to wash the steps,

lead the lights, polish, scrimp and scrape
set the fire, feed the kine, pray, pray again,
and ensure, by physical effort until forever,
that the treadmill continues to turn .....

Alan McAlpine Douglas

[Guest__*]

The Sky was Velvet



I know so little of the great
harvest of love.  
She left me.

There was a time when the sun
wasn’t yellow, it was golden;
the sky was more than blue,
it was velvet- -
and the shade of trees was
a lover’s embrace, caressing
my skin with its touch.

Some say the world was ripe then,
ready for picking.
I’d agree.

Then suddenly, a small bird
flew from its nest, from the safety
of my heart, and the fruit
began to rot.
Nothing gold can stay
in a world full of bronze.
I was stricken color-blind to life.

Had that flower not wilted
to a pile of dust,
I could smile.

Now I stand at the edge of Heaven,
beneath the one luminary clock
as it counts down my doom . . .
tick, tick, tick . . .
preparing to wash the steps leading
to our place among the infinities.

I know so little of the great
harvest of love.
She left me.

[Cleo_Serapis]

WOW!!!

What awesome responses Larry, Alan and Dan!

FAB!!!! :) :)  

[Cleo_Serapis]

[Alan]

DESIGNED TO LIVE

Some say the world is designed,
determined to wash the steps away
of all which exists bent in the undergrowth.

I disagree : the woods are lovely,
and the shade of trees provides relief
where your face burns and tickles in the sun.

One luminary clock shone up at me;
I had that flower marked, till a small bird flew
through our place among the infinities.

Nothing gold can stay of the great harvest
that is life - death will reap, reconstitute,
recycle. However, that oxlip will live forever ....

Alan McAlpine Douglas

Robert Frost snippets challenge :

Some say the world
to wash the steps
bent in the undergrowth
the woods are lovely
and the shade of trees
where your face burns and tickles
one luminary clock
had that flower
a small bird flew
our place among the infinities
nothing gold can stay
of the great harvest

[Cleo_Serapis]

Well done Alan and you've used all 12 snippets, BRAVO!

Enjoyed the read!
~Cleo

[Larry]

Sundial

One luminary clock shall mark the time
when all the woods are lovely and the Spring
which had that flowered meadow’s grasses lime
is in the past. Now Summer’s sun will bring

its heat to wash the steps which we will take.
Cloud’s solace and the shade of trees will do
until, bent in the undergrowth, we slake
our thirst from toil. Frightened, a small bird flew

from where its nest was hidden in the leaves.
She’d waited there for all the errant seeds
from planting Fall’s new crop. Tall drying sheaves
will feed her brood when Winter intercedes.

Each year, there’s nothing gold can stay or save
what’s passed. Some say the world is just time’s slave.



Snippets used in order of appearance: one luminary clock, the woods are lovely, had that flower,
to wash the steps, and the shade of trees, bent in the undergrowth, a small bird flew, nothing gold can stay,
some say the world


Larry

[Cleo_Serapis]

I love this Larry!

We are certainly feeling the HEAT of Summer's Sun!

Thanks for sharing!
~Cleo

[Merlin]

Snippet dee doo duh!


Trebor Tsorf Strikes Again

Some say the world is bent in the undergrowth
because a small bird flew and nothing gold can stay.
Some say the world is our place among the infinities
to wash the steps and the shade of trees away.

Some say the world had that flower
where your face burns and tickles;
of the great harvest they say
it was merely a crock of dill pickles.

There's still one luminary clock
that says, “The woods are lovely when they tock.”




Augustus Pluvious

The woods are lovely. Rain began pelting
this poor poet hiking to no destination,
and I bent in the undergrowth like a dim-wit rabbit.
Spindles of water unraveled upon me
but I shook it off, arched my back
and since nothing gold can stay, nor rain,
I braved the wet and went my weary way.
A small bird flew by.

And the shade of trees protects a long abandoned
church. Rain to wash the steps that have fallen
into disrepair... its door is locked and windows
boarded; of the great harvest once promised, no sign.
And I went my weary way. Some say
the world will end in fire where
our place among the infinities
is but one luminary clock tick-tock.

And I went my merry way as the sun returned
and had that flower – that faithful meadow flower
firmly in its grasp to where your face burns
and tickles with delight.