Honest poetry

To kick off the birth of Walking Is Still Honest, here is one of the most honest poems of the 20th century.  Remember, you can submit your own your work to be published as well.

“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; 5

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, 10

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. 15

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.


Published by

Jeremiah Walton

Jeremiah Walton is wary of writing a bio.

9 thoughts on “Honest poetry”

  1. I adore this poem, and can recite it from memory—it is so wistful, and so on point, and yet so metrically pleasing and the rhymes are a dream. In short: the best of all poetic circumstance…

    1. Robert Frost is absolutely talented. I love the how relate-able the poem is. Everyone has been at a fork in the road before. This is an example of how I feel poetry should be; meaningful and accesible. It actually helped lay the groundwork for this press. Cheers!

  2. Robert Frost is a mediocre poet.
    Robert Frost is a mediocre poet.
    That’s the truth, plain, simple and plain.
    And I know I just said plain twice,
    But repeating things for spooky effect is an affliction,
    Suffered by almost all living boomer-generation American writers,
    Who’ve read “Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening.”
    And while we’re on the subject:
    Look, I think Robert Frost is an okay poet–
    Nice, but just okay–not great and certainly not
    Poet Laureate of the United States of America caliber.
    That poem “Stopping …” is nowhere near great,
    Despite millions of scholarly words written about it by college English professors.
    To me, it’s just an okay riff,
    Written by an okay mellow guy,
    Who is just out in his okay, ordinary buggy,
    Smoking an okay ordinary joint,
    Just going for an okay trip around the block.
    And as far as that queer horse goes . . .
    Well, I’m not going there.

    1. Well, that was pretty damn honest. I really enjoy the poem’s driving concept because it’s something we’ve all dealt with.

      Poetry is subjective though, so to each their own drink. Cheers!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s