So, here it is the last post of my Year of Poetry. I’m kind of amazed I made it this far. A post a day, at least I know now that I’m capable of this, though I doubt I will ever try and do it again.
The poem for today, as I planned a year ago, is the same poem I started with, my Ars Poetica. A poem about Poetry. Bookending a full year with the same poem front and back. I hope everyone enjoyed the poetry and the ride.
Thinking about what I’ll be doing next, my personal novel writing has still not progressed very far. I spent almost all my creative energy this year on my Dungeons and Dragons campaign, refining the homebrew world of Arista, fast-forwarding the timeline I presented far earlier in this blog, and most importantly, doing quite a bit of email role-playing.
Me and my players did a few different sets of e-mail chains, one of them was a year of downtime where they fell through time and space and did a reality and dimension hopping adventure. Some of them were short, boring , or uneventful but one of them was a massive 350 page practical novel. I want to share all of this writing on the internet (and I did get their permission) and I have been editing out any personal information and such. I’m not sure how I’ll organize everything, or how often I’ll post things, but I do think I’ll start with the shortest and least interesting bits, to give me time to edit up the monstrous sections. I hope everyone ends up enjoying this new plan of mine, and then I’ll figure something else out when that’s all done.
Happy New Years everyone, and I hope this next year is a good one for you all.
Continue reading “End of the Year of Poetry”
The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house in 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.
Dust of Snow by Robert Frost
The way a crow
shook down on me
the dust of snow
from a hemlock tree
has given my heart
a change of mood,
and saved some part
of a day I rued.
Winter Fun by Chris McDaniel
The house was warm with cooking,
And the storm long ago stopped blowing.
Enjoy the silent winter’s night,
Before tomorrow’s snowball fight
I heard a Bird Sing by Oliver Herford
I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December
A magical thing
And sweet to remember
We are nearer to Spring
Than we were in September,
I heard a bird sing
In the Dark of December
Merry Christmas by Aileen Fisher
I saw on the snow
when I tried my skis
the track of a mouse
beside some trees.
Before he tunneled
to reach his house
he wrote “Merry Christmas”
in white, in mouse.