"Always be a poet, even in prose." C. Baudelaire

One of the many benefits of attending Emory University is the amazing people that I was able to meet and befriend. Not only are many of these people like minded in ideals and goals, but they are also amazingly talented.

So I've always had a thing for poetry... I think it was around middle school that I realized that I was just not going to be a poet. I liked the "idea" of writing poems, but I was just not good at it.
I usually ask all of my friends that consider themselves poets to write me a poem. Luckily my friend Carlos obliged. I am an avid lover of Robert Frost's, The Road Not Taken. I believe I have even featured a post on this poem (I DID...yay...Click here for the link to my August 2009 entry on the Road Not Taken) So when he decided to write a poem, that was loosely based on The Road Not Taken. I was excited to say the least!! It's below!

There is a fork out front of me
two frosted paths- one traveler's glory,
adventure surly lies just down one pick
the other holds some unknown story.

One shall do well enough I'm sure,
the other far worse I'll likely tell
but both assuredly plainly stood,
neither way seemed the better scaled.

The trees will not bother tell me
just which path is better lain.
The one looks swift, if grass be quick,
the other just as brisk and plain.

I will spend the day until assured
which is the better of this way.
Two roads diverge in a frosted wood,
And I- have not a decision made.
C. Harper

So I've been telling him that I was going to write a blog entry on the poem he wrote for the longest and honestly. I remembered because he emailed another poem out this morning. I enjoyed this one as well, it is concerning Travel. For those of you who don't know..I LOVE to travel. I love the airport, I love exploring unfamiliar places and learning about cultures... (hence my Anthropology major). So once again, Harper seemed to "hit the nail on the head" (that's a weird expression..lol.)

One autumn a man preached about destiny
and the church listened, nodded, said amen
and I was with them till the train came.

Trains, they are boxes large and heavy
whistling loudly shaking at our temple.
The preacher pauses till she passes through,
I know she means no harm but see
the tracks were lain,
she has no choice but follow.

One autumn a man preached destiny
and my mind took to a train.
C. Harper

I hope you enjoyed those poems as much as I did. Until Next Time...