The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost


Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveller, 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 travelled  by,

And that has made all the difference.

The Poetry Pharmacy Returns 

Their lover wants a burglar to alarm

How sad I think of washing the bed sheets
When my partner  holds me in his arms
Instead of kissing me  he   might well shout

Do I get more pleasure as I sleep
Dreaming of a Bendix  and its charms~

How sad I think of washing the bed sheets

Even grown up men are seen to weep
Their lover wants a burglar to alarm
Instead of kissing her , he  might well shriek

Even when it’s raining cats and sleet
Women  hang their washing  in the yard
How sad I think of washing all the  sheets

When we marry we  don’t know these weights
The world sits on  our backs quite unadorned
Instead of kissing  him,she  might well shriek

Now romance  cannot last, and love  lies lame
Buying houses, babies, what to blame?
Women  are still   fraying mind and  sheets
Instead of kissing lovers ,indiscreet


The most stupid thing I’ve read for years




With many homeless people here and across the world, why does the Guardian say we may need a separate room  for sexx in addition to a bedroom? How many people have a house large enough?Who is  the Guardian writing for?
We already have the  fashion pages with ludicrously expensive clothes…… is it time to

Why not go into a wood if you want some thrill?

How we long to speak,why are we dumb?

How we long to   speak and yet we’re dumb
Fearing   we shall sound like ignorant fools
Waiting for our first   communion

When will  we feel safe, not quiet nor numb?
Alexithmyic,affectless,how cruel
How we long to speak, why are we dumb?

How we odd ones value every crumb
How we want to learn , to use our tools
Waiting for our first   communion

By the weight of politics undone
This was never taught in any school
How we long to speak, why are  we dumb?

Economic miracle,. God’s come!
No log  like this was ever made for Yule
Nor for our own first   communion

Stay away from Logic and George Boole
Poetic life needs metaphors not rules
How we long to   speak, why are we dumb
Struggling for  the lost communion?