Fire and Ice: Robert Frost

 

 

 

Robert Frost

 

 

 

FIRE AND ICE

 

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I've tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

 

 

 

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.

 

 

 

BIO:  Robert Frost (1874-1963) was an American poet whose rural New England themes captured the hearts and minds of Americans everywhere. He received four Pulitzer Prizes for Poetry and the Congressional Gold Medal during his lifetime. On July 22, 1961, he was named Vermont's Poet Laureate. He is best known for his poem, "The Road Not Taken."         



Poems for the New Year

PAST AND PRESENT

I remember, I remember
The house where I was born,
The little window where the sun
Came peeping in at morn;
He never came a wink too soon
Nor brought too long a day;
But now, I often wish the night
Had borne my breath away.

I remember, I remember
The roses, red and white,
The violets, and the lily-cups --
Those flowers made of light!
The lilacs where the robin built,
And where my brother set
The laburnum on his birthday, --
The tree is living yet!

I remember, I remember
Where I was used to swing,
And thought the air must rush as fresh
To swallows on the wing;
My spirit flew in feathers then
That is so heavy now,
And summer pools could hardly cool
The fever on my brow.

I remember, I remember
The fir-trees dark and high;
I used to think their slender tops
Were close against the sky;
It was a childish ignorance,
But now 'tis little joy
To know I'm further off from Heaven
Than when I was a boy.

~ Thomas Hood ~

THE HUMAN SEASONS

Four seasons fill the measure of the year;
There are four seasons in the mind of Man:
He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear
Takes in all beauty with an easy span:

He has his Summer, when luxuriously
Spring's honey'd cud of youthful thought he loves
To ruminate, and by such dreaming high
Is nearest unto heaven: quiet coves

His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings
He furleth close; contented so to look
On mists in idleness -- to let fair things
Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook: --

He has his Winter too of pale misfeature,
Or else he would forego his mortal nature.

~ John Keats ~

MY HEART LEAPS

My heart leaps up when I behold
  A rainbow in the sky;
So was it when my life began,
So is it now I am a man,
So be it when I shall grow old
    Or let me die!
The Child is father of the Man:
And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.

~ William Wordsworth ~

HAVE A HAPPY AND PROSPEROUS NEW YEAR!

Dawn Pisturino, RN



 

When Santa Claus Comes

 

A good time is coming,

I wish it were here,

The very best time

In the whole of the year;

I'm counting each day

On my fingers and thumbs --

The weeks that must pass

Before Santa Claus comes.

 

Then when the first snowflakes

Begin to come down,

And the wind whistles sharp

And the branches are brown,

I'll not mind the cold,

Though my fingers it numbs,

For it brings the time nearer

When Santa Claus comes.

 

~ Author Unknown ~

The Dentist

Artwork by John Federis

 

Warning!

If you hate going to the dentist, don't read this poem!

 

The Dentist

 

by Dawn Pisturino

 

Now I've got you in my chair,

You're not going anywhere.

So open wide, let me in,

And let the painful games begin!

See that molar on the right?

It's in the socket way too tight.

Here's my plier. Please don't move.

I'll pry that sucker from its groove!

Look, there's a cavity over there.

My drill's all ready. Please don't stare!

My hands are shaking, can't you see?

I need your confidence in me.

Oops! The blood is squirting out.

I didn't mean to make you shout!

Your bloody tongue is in my hand.

Sit down! Don't even try to stand!

Come back! I need to suture in----

Oh well, another toothless grin.

 

February 6, 2012

 

Published in the April 2012 issue of Underneath the Juniper Tree

 

 

Dawn Pisturino

Copyright 2012-2015 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.

The Blue and the Gray

 

THE BLUE AND THE GRAY

 

by Francis Miles Finch

(1827-1907)

 

By the flow of the inland river,

Whence the fleets of iron have fled,

Where the blades of the grave-grass quiver,

Asleep are the ranks of the dead:

Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the judgment-day;

Under the one, the Blue,

Under the other, the Gray.

 

These in the robings of glory,

Those in the gloom of defeat,

All with the battle-blood gory,

In the dusk of eternity meet:

Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the judgment-day;

Under the laurel, the Blue,

Under the willow, the Gray.

 

From the silence of sorrowful hours

The desolate mourners go,

Lovingly laden with flowers

Alike for the friend and the foe;

Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the judgment-day;

Under the roses, the Blue,

Under the lilies, the Gray.

 

So with an equal splendor,

The morning sun-rays fall,

With a touch impartially tender,

On the blossoms blooming for all:

Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the judgment-day;

Broidered with gold, the Blue,

Mellowed with gold, the Gray.

 

So, when the summer calleth,

On forest and field of grain,

With an equal murmur falleth

The cooling drip of the rain:

Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the judgment-day;

Wet with the rain, the Blue

Wet with the rain, the Gray.

 

Sadly, but not with upbraiding,

The generous deed was done,

In the storm of the years that are fading

No braver battle was won:

Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the judgment-day;

Under the blossoms, the Blue,

Under the garlands, the Gray.

 

No more shall the war cry sever,

Or the winding rivers be red;

They banish our anger forever

When they laurel the graves of our dead!

Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the judgment-day,

Love and tears for the Blue,

Tears and love for the Gray.

 

 

The eleven southern states that seceded from the Union: South Carolina, Mississippi, Florida, Alabama, Georgia, Louisiana, Texas, Virginia, Arkansas, North Carolina, Tennessee.

 

States and territories sympathetic to the Confederate cause: Missouri, Kentucky, the Arizona Territory. In the Indian Territory (aka the Oklahoma Territory), most Indian tribes owned black slaves and sided with the Confederacy. (Indian tribes also owned white slaves and slaves from other tribes.)

 

Northern States supported the Union forces. 

Penelope's Adventure

 

Penelope Bear, who just didn't care,

Sneaked out after dark to play in the park.

She didn't tell her mother, her sister or brother.

She didn't tell her father -- it was too much bother.

 

Penelope ran just as fast as she can

Down the dark city street on her little bear feet.

When she got to the park, it was lonely and dark,

But she wanted to play so she stayed anyway.

 

She swung on the swings and hung from the rings.

She was happy to glide down the big metal slide.

She rode all around on the merry-go-round,

And dug in the sand with her little bear hand.

 

Then, a voice in the air said, "Come here, little bear."

Penelope shuddered to hear those words uttered.

She turned and she ran just as fast as she can --

And she didn't look behind to see what she'd find.

 

She ran into the house like a scared little mouse.

Her parents were sad she had been so bad,

But they hugged her and kissed her and said how they missed her.

Penelope cried -- she was frightened inside.

 

The lesson is clear: Every good little bear

Shouldn't play in the park all alone after dark!

 

1985

 

Written for my daughter, Ariel Pisturino

 

Dawn Pisturino

 

Copyright 1985-2015 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.

 

Airplane

 

I looked into the big, big sky

And watched an airplane passing by;

I was too small for him to see,

And so he never noticed me.

 

May 3, 1986

 

Dawn Pisturino

 

Copyright 1986-2015 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.

 

 



The Harpist's Song: Poetry of Ancient Egypt

 

Found in an 18th Dynasty Tomb:

 

This great one is well!

Good is the destiny, good the destruction!

For a generation passes,

and another remains, since the time of the ancestors,

those gods who existed aforetime,

who rest in their pyramids,

and the blessed noble dead likewise,

buried in their pyramids.

The builders of chapels, their places are no more.

What has become of them?

 

I have heard the words of Imhotep and Hordedef,

whose sayings are so told:

what of their places? Their walls have fallen;

their places are no more, like those who never were.

None returns from there to tell their conditions,

to tell their state, to reassure us,

until we attain the place where they have gone.

 

May you be happy with this, forgetfulness giving you benediction.

Follow your heart while you live!

Put myrrh on your head!

Clothe yourself with fine linen!

Anoint yourself with true wonders of the divine rite!

Increase your happiness!

Be not weary-hearted! Follow your heart and happiness!

Make your things on earth! Do not destroy your heart,

until that day of lamentation comes for you!

The Weary-hearted does not hear their lamentation;

mourning cannot save a man from the tomb-pit.

 

CHORUS:

 

Make holiday! Do not weary of it!

Look, no one can take his things with him.

Look, no one who has gone there returns again.