Robert Frost Poem by Leaking Pen

Frost died when I was around sixteen
His name & fame I didn’t know as a teen
He weaved poetry from star lit skies
Nature took notice of him with joyful eyes.

I knew ground frost in early winter
But not Frost the poet sprinter…
As my hair began to fall and splinter
I had to find lift away from each winter.

I stumbled on Frost’s naturalism poetry
A chance encounter like winning the lottery
How can his flame be hidden from me?
I was born where minds were not set free.

Poetic wings are for the hopeful souls
I was fed instead on religion rigid calls
Years wasted and I had so many a fall
Wings that get no precious air would stall.

Finally, awakening came late to my core
I couldn't get enough from Frost I needed more
Addiction was good when Frost I did explore
My poetic diet based on Frost, I’ll always adore.

Frost fire melted the ice in my old formats
His new path became my welcome doormats
In his yellow wood roamed my Persian cat
It and I captured magic from his poetic hat.

I read Frost to discover my melodious lark
I gazed upon his star to learn how to spark
IF I shall die without and erected landmark
It suffice, I read Frost to be my trademark.


March 9,2014
Copyright Leaking Pen 2014