Robert+Glynn

"Words written in verse may speak volumes when those spoken do not." ~Caressia Combs
 * Quote**

__Ode to a Waterfall__
 * Ode**

Your great waters pour down Rare and refreshing I reach for refuge It begins as a trickle Then grows, grows, grows It becomes a great flood My love can’t be held back This dam will not last long

Your great waters flow past Delightful and deep I drown in your depths It begins as a plunge Then sinks, sinks, sinks It settles in my soul My heart won’t let you out This vessel will remain

__What do you call it?__
 * Praise Poem**

I remember the first time I saw her I was overwhelmed with joy My heart leapt into my throat Why do I feel this way She’s just a friend A friend is only a friend, nothing more Isn’t she?

It’s been so long since I saw her Her presence in my mind Has faded to almost nothing Do I even miss her Of course I do I’ve never felt that way again Have I?

__Memory__
 * Riff Poem**

Remember me when I am gone away, Gone far away into the silent land. Hold my memory close to you today, See me now in the palm of your hand. You know my love will forever last, Never forget that in your short life. Don’t dwell on grievances from the past, I’m in heaven now, without any strife. The loneliness is beginning to settle, Join me soon because I miss you. The patience I’ve had deserves a medal, Remember me because I will love you.

Original Poem: [|Remember by Christina Rossetti]

__Expressions of an Introvert__
 * Sonnet**

Don’t have a home, I live within my mind. Don’t need a family, I have myself. Don’t want emotions, I express nothing. Don’t you have something else better to do? Why are you still here, watching me each day? All I want is for you to go away.

I want to fly, into the starry sky. I want to soar, to return nevermore. I want to flee, from here and be happy. I want to go, no longer filled with woe. I want to die, just a little inside. I want to rest; only I know what’s best.

I want everyone to leave me alone. What I really want is to just go home.

In my Ode, between the two stanzas each line corresponds to the other. I made my own format to write; I think it helps the poem flow better. Though I do find it difficult to write in other formats, such as a sonnet. I feel more comfortable writing in my own formats. The praise Poem was a little difficult to write too, but once I decided where I would put things, it became easier. I also had a little trouble with the topic. I thought that it would turn out corny, but I like the end result. Some of my poems have to do with love. Love is a topic that can be very diverse. That’s all I really need to say about that. My poems usually have progression in them. In my sonnet, the first and last lines contradict each other because in the middle parts, the character realized what he wanted. He changed his thought process. This is similar to me because I have a very strong opinion, but also an open mind. If something convinces me to change my opinion, it’s going to be something important. I am a much bigger fan of reading poetry than writing it.
 * Statement about my poetry**

__The Road Not Taken__
 * Three Robert Frost Poems**

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.

__The Lockless Door__

It went many years, But at last came a knock, And I thought of the door With no lock to lock.

I blew out the light, I tip-toed the floor, And raised both hands In prayer to the door.

But the knock came again. My window was wide; I climbed on the sill And descended outside.

Back over the sill I bade a 'Come in' To whatever the knock At the door may have been.

So at a knock I emptied my cage To hide in the world And alter with age.

__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 favour 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.

Fire and Ice //Special thanks to Ian Terway//
 * Artwork**

All three Robert Frost poems have to do with choices. That’s why I picked these particular three. In __The Road Not Taken__ it’s pretty obvious why it’s about choices. He also brings up that when you make a choice, you can’t really go back on it. Taking the road less traveled by sounds like a good thing, but is it? You don’t know if choosing a path different from everyone else is always better. It has made all the difference, but who is to say that is a good thing? In __The Lockless Door__ the choice isn’t as important to the poem, but it is still there. Does he choose to let in whatever is at the door? This poem is also about acceptance. It clearly states that the door has no lock, but whatever is behind it still needs a gesture to enter, it’s not being forceful. This poem could be about death, but I don’t think it is because death would just barge in on you weather you accepted it or not. So there must be something else waiting behind the door. The very last lines, “to hide in the world and alter with age” really give you an idea that after he accepted what was knocking on his door, he changed, thought it doesn’t say weather the change was good or bad. Alter is a neutral word. In __Fire and Ice__ there is the choice in weather he would prefer do die in a fire or freeze over. The choice in this poem is about a way to die, but you can also look at it to determine what kind of person wrote the poem. Fire is more of a loud violent thing compared to ice, which quietly freezes everything over. A fire is wild, but also warm and comforting if it is contained. Even though he expresses his “favour” for fire, by the end of the poem, he establishes that it doesn’t really matter how we perish, because, well we’re perishing, nothing can make it better, it really doesn’t matter how we die, just the fact that we’re dead.
 * Analysis of Robert Frost poems**