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

[Merlin]

I spent most of my Sunday being a domestic, so haven't attempted anything written. No promises, but I'll see what comes.

M

[Merlin]

Ok, 15 minutes doesn't get you much.


Lake of the Woods

Dear readers-all, there’s something you should know
about a certain matter, even though
it happened in the woods not far from here –
as I recall, no tracks were in the snow.

Now, many think the matter is quite queer,
but truly, I believe it’s very near
impossible to tell because that lake
has been the scene of mystery this year.

There was no earthquake, nothing that would shake
the ground around; so there’s your first mistake
that witnesses relate and try to sweep
this case away, like one small dandruff flake.

The lake is deep, oh yes, it’s very deep
and on its bottom, secrets that will keep
the experts guessing, losing hours of sleep
as they decipher clues, but cannot sleep.

[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.

[Cleo_Serapis]

These are fantastic Eric and Sue! Both are so unique!

Eric- I interpret yours as a UFO that crash landed bumping and skipping through the snow into the lake.

Sue - I interpret yours as a female monster bumbling through the night, not quite quiet mind you ; Fraulein Flake - very clever! I best keep one eye open at all times!

Enjoyed both very much!
~Cleo

[heartsong7]

Ah yes, Merlin. I wonder if this is about the UFO's often sighted flying into and out of deep lakes around the country.
Read about one here:
http://www.ufobc.ca/History/1950/underwat.htm
I note you use IP rather than IT to tell the tale.

I interpret yours as a female monster bumbling through the night, not quite quiet mind you ;

yes, that's it, Lori. I had just finished posting an alternate version when I saw your comments. I've wanted to write something about the 'wampus cat' ever since I read about Merlin's 'loup-garou'....so decided to incorporate her into this exercise. There are many versions of the legend... often changed at the whim of the teller.

Thank you for reading and commenting.
It's a fun exercise.
Sue

[jgdittier]

Okanagan's this lake I know
its waters clean and blue as though
'twere nothing 'bout it special here
in summer's heat or winter's snow.

Now you might think that something's queer
to hear that U F O's come near.
To hover over land and lake,
in "fifty- two, that was the year.

In Tennesee the natives shake.
The Wampus Cat is no mistake.
Half girl, half witch, no broom to sweep,
The folks believe, they know no flake.

From outer space they go in deep.
Secluded there, their poise they keep.
We'll hope those cosmo-men there sleep,
We'll hope those cosmo-men there sleep.

[Merlin]

Great submissions, all. Makes me wonder if the catty wampus came from outer space.

I did do IP, which came natural in the first set, so I stuck with it. Rubais are IP, but we're not gonna quibble on that point. As to the meaning in mine - here's the gospel. I had no idea of what was going on, and was hoping one of my cohorts would develop a story. I left an entire set of possibilities open.

Yours reminded me of cathy wampus immediately, Sue; reckon we're on the same wavelength. You tied the 2 together, Ron, so maybe there's something outer spatial about the cat.

Check Herman's Hermits, I'm posting one there.

Merlin

[Cleo_Serapis]

Well done Ron! What fun!

OK - Mine is of a different cat - cha cha cha!


Snow-man

There is a man most children know
who travels far and even though
we may not see him stopping here,
be rest assured, his world is snow.

His laborers don’t think it queer
to find him jolly -- always near
to deer and creatures of Pole’s lake;
especially this time of year.

Come spring, those extra pounds he’ll shake
but not tonight, make no mistake
when clock strikes twelve, he’ll make his sweep
and ride off camouflaged in flake.

Through time and treasures buried deep,
He’s made his promises to keep;
until the morn, when he’ll find sleep --
but not till then, and then he’ll sleep.

Back at ya!

[Merlin]

Before I go into hibernation, here's one more.

Pasta Lake
If we knew all we ought to know:
essential pearls of wisdom, (though
those lesser ones do rate, I hear,)
we’d be as pure as pure-white snow.

We wouldn’t find a tree sloth queer
for hanging upside down and near
the self-same spot, up past a lake.
That’s where it hangs, year after year.

Then, should our dedication shake
because a trivial mistake
was made, we wouldn’t try to sweep
it off like one more useless flake.

We’d meditate, debating deep
what thoughts to toss, which ones to keep;
and sacrifice our beauty sleep.
Don’t sacrifice my beauty sleep.



Thanks Sue, line fixed. Didn't notice with enjam & IP!
out - it off as if it were a useless flake.

[heartsong7]

Ron...
I enjoyed the way you tie the UFO's and Wampus cat together.
Just delightful!
Sue


Lori...
I love you Santa-snowman.
fun to read aloud.
Sue


Merlin...
Wow! You're on a roll with these.
I like this fresh take on 'don't sweat the small stuff"
BTW. in S3, L4 is a foot long.
enjoyed.
Sue

[Alan]

Dear Lori,

Not exactly what you asked for, I will return to this, but a challenge answer I posted elsewhere a few days ago, which I think might amuse :

FROSTED FERTILISER

The countryside glistens with Frost
who'd chanced upon my woods, quite lost
and thinks I know not what he sees
as winter steams with horse-exhaust

No sound disturbs the morning air
nor track is seen of his sleigh-chair
but I know where to place my scoop
to gather his pony's "hot air"

The world's covered in snow today
that does not mean I can delay
the fertilising of rose bush
despite deep winter's death-display

The room feels comfortable and warm
I glow - roses come to no harm
I know there is more need of scoop
I know there is more need of scoop

Alan McAlpine Douglas

[Alan]

STOPPED BY BRUSH

Which choc bar’s best, I wish to know
there’s too much choice to choose from though;
result is neither there nor here
they’re so unique, like flakes of snow.

My tasting buds do think it’s queer
to stop without decision near,
for no where yet is “hunger” slaked
with darkest chocolate of the year

While milky bars I give a shake,
to find if there is some mistake,
the panoply, the whole wide sweep
of white, or milk, yum, darkest flake

The choc’s so lovely dark, and deep
my bites; if teeth I wish to keep,
I’d better brush before I sleep,
brush brush and brush, before I sleep ....

Alan McAlpine Douglas

[Merlin]

Good to see you join the Frosties.
I put the question to jgd-Ron, with whom I email a fair bit and we discuss such writings as Frost's, about the sound of the wind, and if the horses had anything to do with it.

Enjoyed.

Merlin

[Alan]

Dear Merlin,

Thanks for the comment. Frost does say it is "easy wind" - not a million miles from "easing" wind ?

Love
Alan

[jgdittier]

Dear Cleo and All,
Frost surely has honored this site with a basis for what has proved to be some quality poetry. His legacy is perhaps unconsciously being appreciated and there's no one here happier for it. Cheers to all who have joined the fray!
There seems to me something almost magical about this form, the interlocking rubiayat, that captures our imagination and brings out the challenge in us.
As relates to the "quality of the air", only in the present time would one suspect the horse. I suspect in the original, Frost was just describing a beautiful, serene, but yet threatening snowfall for one questionably resting where the reader fears for his wellbeing and that of his little horse.

[Guest_ohsteve_*]

Here is one I just wrote, I have done parodys of this but not used the same rhymes before.

Using Frost's last Rhymes

You know, I think it's a little queer;
and if it gets closer or even near,
that I shall wake and shake,
my dad, about this mistake.

I thought there would be lots of snow,
white upon the ground, you know.
My eyes looked out and did a sweep,
and not one flake was there to keep.

Weatherman was wrong again you hear,
there's no deep snow this time of year.
and out side by the beach of the lake,
a man with red trunks and white beard is the only flake.

I sigh so deep as I must go
to bed and it hurts me though,
to think of all that snow fast asleep.
All that snow so fast asleep,
and here on the equator not one inch deep.


A fun challenge...
Steve

[Cleo_Serapis]

Well done, Steve!

Nice to see you rhyming again! We got socked overthe weekend with a foot of the white stuff, and it's COLD as well. Sheesh - I hope that's NOT a sign of things to come. I luv snow but not the cold - go figure!!!

Lori

[Sekhmet]

Hi _ I've just wandered into Karnac Crossing out of the cold, and saw the Challenge to recycle Frost's words and format. How could I resist? Taken a couple of liberties - but I am prepared to be firmly squelched buy the purists. By the way - some terrific new versions!
Love, Leoxx
The Wise Children

As every wakeful child will know;

He will not visit - even though

they squeeze their eyes, yet strain to hear,

those hoof-beats on the crunchy snow.



Children often think it's queer

that Santa seems to live - quite near.

That Shopping Mall beside the lake,

they visit with their Gran each year.



They give his calloused hand a shake;

but Santa's made a big mistake.

His nails are black as any sweep.

His snowy beard is clearly fake.



But children are surprising deep.

This secret - all agog – they keep.

They pray, at Midnight, you're asleep.

They pray, at Midnight, you're asleep.

[Larry]

Hello All,

From UFO's to furtilizer and Santa to chocolate, what a wonderfully eclectic group of poetic offerings to Frost and his beautiful poem. Mine is much more mundane and represents no personal crisis in my life; it's just what came out when I started to participate. I wanted a bit more challenge so I tried using the SQ format. Hope it meets with your approval!

A Fall

I wait for snow. I sure would like to know
if anything will fall this year, although
it doesn’t matter if you are not here.
I sure would like to know. I wait for snow

to end this year. Without you it’s been queer;
when waking up alone and you’re not near
my side. This trip and walking by the lake
without you; it’s been queer. To end this year…

alone as one snowflake, I cry and shake
my head in misery at one mistake,
one broken vow. To realize its sweep,
I cry and shake. Alone as one snowflake

I fall. A sleep in dreamless sorrows, deep
despair at love’s demise? I did not keep
those promises I made. I fail to sleep
in dreamless sorrows, deep. I fall asleep.


Robert, I hope you like it too; wherever you are!


Larry