Stopping By The Woods On A Snowy Evening (Robert Frost)

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.

—
One of the first poems I’ve read in life and have come to fall in love with.

Love, They Say

They say love is divine,
Sacred as a flower from heaven,
Innocent as a newborns toothless grin,
Never-ending as the vast blues.

Excuse me,
I beg to differ.
Is it so?

Is love as selfless as they say?
Doesn’t take interest from the heart?
Ask the soul to forget what it’s made of?

Is love as unending as they say?
Would you walk beside me on the shores,
And not wonder for once, where it ends?

Love,
Playful as a puppet dance,
Colourful like a box of crayons,
Does it not contain shades of grey?
Never wakes you up in the middle of the night
Begs you to cry your way?

Does it really not leave a scar,
Doesn’t remind you of me years later?

Love, they say.

Another Groggy Morning

Wake up!
Wake up!
Wake up!
To the humming of hummingbirds.

Wake up!
Wake up!
Wake up!
To the honking of a monstrous metropolis.

Wake up!
Wake up!
Wake up!
Life won’t wait for long.

No, I won’t wake up
To the sound of life calling.
No, I won’t get up
Even if everything was meant to happen this morning.
No, I won’t leave my bed
For the music that’s crying.

This is just another of my groggy mornings.

Listening to Mum screaming,
Eggs frying, pans smashing,
Brushing teeth, drinking coffee
Flapping the newspaper for the same old stories.

No, I won’t wake up
To meet a new day unfolding.
No, I won’t get up
For my world is still dreaming.
No, I won’t leave my bed
These pillows will be crying.

Stereos blaring, crashing cars
Geeks on their books, memorizing names of stars.
Final countdown, this is your last chance,
For life is calling, as impatient as the morning birds.

No, I won’t wake up
Yell your heart out, your best shot.
No, I won’t get up
Let life screw its way ’round this lot.
No, I won’t leave my bed
Even if you pay me a million bucks.

This is just another of my groggy morning.

—
I’m beginning to think my exams are taking a toll on my sanity. If this were to be a song (well, that’s how it came to me), I’d start the “wake up” bit with a hard rock intro and slow it down into a sleepy, mono murmur at “no, i won’t wake up”.