Birches, by Robert Frost

~I took this picture up in Duluth, MN recently...It reminded me of one of Frost's poems.~ MEL

Birches
by: Robert Frost

When I see birches bend to left and right
Across the lines of straighter darker trees,
I like to think some boy's been swinging them.
But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay.
Ice-storms do that. Often you must have seen them
Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning
After a rain. They click upon themselves
As the breeze rises, and turn many-coloured
As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.
Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells
Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust
Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away
You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.
They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,
And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed
So low for long, they never right themselves:
You may see their trunks arching in the woods
Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground,
Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair
Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.
But I was going to say when Truth broke in
With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm,
I should prefer to have some boy bend them
As he went out and in to fetch the cows--
Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,
Whose only play was what he found himself,
Summer or winter, and could play alone.
One by one he subdued his father's trees
By riding them down over and over again
Until he took the stiffness out of them,
And not one but hung limp, not one was left
For him to conquer. He learned all there was
To learn about not launching out too soon
And so not carrying the tree away
Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise
To the top branches, climbing carefully
With the same pains you use to fill a cup
Up to the brim, and even above the brim.
Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,
Kicking his way down through the air to the ground.
So was I once myself a swinger of birches.
And so I dream of going back to be.
It's when I'm weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
From a twig's having lashed across it open.
I'd like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over.
May no fate willfully misunderstand me
And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
Not to return. Earth's the right place for love:
I don't know where it's likely to go better.
I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back.
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.

Collection of some of my Poems

Autobiography Poem

Half and Half, plus a whole…

Creates three quarters Korean and one quarter mystery…

A mystery that my father has chased.

A past seemingly erased.

Never quite accepted as Korean

Nor fully an American…

Because my eyes slant and I tower among the trees.

I am quite contrary, but no one wonders how my garden grows.

From Seoul to soul to the East coast I move about.

From the south up to the north, never in one spot

Long enough to feel settled.

As a result, I can never stay still for too long…

Knee jerk! I get antsy…

Even in love, I contemplate my ability to stay for long,

Because I stayed too long and it was poison.

Did I mention that I dropped my brother when he was just a month old?

Or that I used to sneak my sister out of her crib to sleep with me

In my big girl bed?

Do they remember what remains imprinted so warmly in the archives of my head?

I love to speak with food… Express with music.

My voice is never missed with my meatballs and sauce.

Molded with intent and with confidence I express my desires.

My desire to create a unique experience every time with food… with music…

I write my own songs and people are surprised by that.

Music runs through me… It runs me.

Even if I run from it, it finds me wherever I go. It settles me…

It is the only thing that settles me.

I see great things in my life, from Hawaii to Alaska…

From friendships long withstanding, to the mistakes I have made.

We’ve all been careless… I crashed my Toyota because I wasn’t paying attention…

Because I was on my CELLPHONE!

Yet with the rising of the sun comes a new day… A chance to set things right.

“The Fabulous Life of (fill in the blank)”

We are creatures of routine. Slumbering, snoozing…just one more minute. Coffee is my crack. I need it, it needs me, or so consumerism would have me believe.

Floss

Mouth wash

Creamer

Tooth brush

Toilet paper

I will run to Target for a mechanical toothbrush and I will most likely spend more than $30.00 for one. I will leave with T H I N G S I don’t need! Wasting my money, wasting the time I take to care for my autonomy. Of this I can stake my life on. These thoughts run through my head as I shampoo, rinse and repeat…consumerism. Sausage and eggs choke my nostrils and fill my belly before I start the daily grind.

Time for that titillating trip to Target where they will take my money and I will surrender it without hesitation. One hundred and sixty dollars for a toothbrush! It better sing, dance, clean and cook for that price. It better have diamonds on it. Diamond encrusted toothbrushes are a reality in this country. Extravagance is common place in America. Children go hungry and die because they have dysentery, while we pop Imodium and Pepto and maybe spend about 10 uncomfortable minutes on the toilet! People are dying in Africa because they can…VH1 shows me Diamond encrusted sneakers, Diamond encrusted Gameboys…They know that we buy into that crap! They encrust things with diamonds because they can. To Africa I will go to change my life and do something…anything for the wealthy people of the spirit. They may be deprived, but we are depraved. I am 15 pounds overweight while the woman in Zimbabwe once known as Rhodesia can barely keep her skin from falling off her bones. She has buried 2 of her babies…death becomes her…envelopes her.

Disneyworld uses over 1,500 pounds of gingerbread and 1,000 pounds of royal icing and another 1,000 pounds of chocolate to create a winter wonderland that promotes a holiday that we have commercialized…consumerism. Over-compensation for a loneliness that comes from selfishness and things that we can not take with us once we depart this life.

Go forth and be fortuitous with your heart. Be generous with your kindness and be responsible for humanity for it is humanity that sustains, renews…and revives us…

Imperfect Beauty through the looking glass

I see myself through the looking glass

My skin is pale and blemished.

Lines and crevices that reveal my time on this earth

like the rings of the trunk of an oak.

“Beauty is only skin deep,”

I say aloud…

I see that my flesh has been added onto,

smoothed like the clay that is glistening

with water on a potter’s wheel.

I shall never fret this because the alternate is unwomanly.

Besides, you can’t take it with you when you die.

I love the way my clavicle protrudes with prominence.

It is so pronounced, yet only few understand the subtleness

of this treasure of mine.

My eyes are tired, but they are beautiful.

They are beautiful because they have seen so much and

they never hide anything if you look deeply enough.

I see myself through the looking glass

And I see an imperfect beauty.

Man Down in the Outback
You never saw it coming.

The end I mean…

You set off to save the wildlife in your Cessna.

The wing busted mid-flight as you tracked Rhinoceroses.

You hit the ground and when you came to,

The entire weight of the plane had shattered every single bone in your legs.

As you lay in agony, the sun scorched your tongue,

slowly cooking you from the inside out.

Death crept into your legs.

It worked its way up your toes and through the marrow.

Your feet were swollen and you feared gangrene.

The least of your worries…

You endured the excruciating pain, for your will to live was strong.

The muscles in your leg took on a path of their own as they convulsed wildly.

Each wave sent the shattered bits of bone into the sinew.

It was the lactic acid, one of the body’s last lines of defenses.

Vultures hovered above you and you felt It’s shadow lingering around you.

Lionesses were lying in wait, Hyenas jostling the tall grass…

You managed to stave off your demise with the banging of metal,

scattering your predators into the outback.

Night fell and the odds continued against you.

There would be no rescuers at night.

You would die soon… you were sure of it.

As you shivered through the night, your eyes fought to remain open as you waited

for dusk…Any dusting of light as your sign that you had survived even the night.

The sounds you must have heard in your lucid state.

Then suddenly you fell asleep.

It was the most wonderful sleep you had ever experienced.

As your eyes fluttered awake, the pain in your legs was gone and you stood up and walked away from the plane crash amazed.

You began to run… fast…faster until your legs gave out and you began to fly away

Happy that you had survived.