Tall Grass

The yellow wood from Robert Frosts poem about two roads has been paved over with a highway.

Tall Grass

Ryan Sanders

 

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood

Or perhaps they did in ages past.

Times have changed, and from where I’m stood

I see car’s driving down a highway. Fast.

 

The wood of old has lost its hue

Golden yellow turned to moldy yeast

And what of the road that forked in two?

Now just one giant tar-covered beast

 

I sat at the median, my engine humming

My legs barely long enough to reach the brake

The line of drivers behind me; their fingers were drumming

Drumming the question “Which lane will you take?”

 

I glanced over quickly to the lane that was near

Filled with square little cars that were all painted gray

Their front bumpers were distorted, curved up in a leer

Matching their drivers, who drove this path every day

 

 Put off, I looked to the lane that was far

Every car had a different color and shape and design

Each thought himself unique; the king of the tar

Prince of the millions born from the assembly line

 

I sat at the median, paralyzed with fear

Pondering the decision that lay before me

Either to join the soulless husks in the lane that was near

Or go far and conform to nonconformity 

 

The driver behind me began to taunt and to goad

Demanding I go and shaking his head

But how could I choose, for both lanes were one road

The highway to Hell, the lost, and the dead?

 

The clangor of a horn broke the stillness of night

Heart racing, I slammed my foot on the gas

Not thinking! Not hesitating! I turned neither left nor right

Following my heart, I drove straight through to the grass

 

And I kept driving, wheels forward, with the windows rolled down

Strait through the open meadow and away from the street

I left it behind; the smell, the taste, the sound!

And traded it all for tall grass, untouched by the feet

 

For in the field behind me I could see my own trail

My own road! My own story to be told!

I laughed madly to myself, like a man freed from jail

And, for a second, the leaves on the trees turned back into gold

Author's Note

Not written in any real style of poetry. I like my poetry beautiful in an ugly sort of way, and I think this did just fine.

Reviews

[FocusedAmnesia]

Very well written. I love the double meaning behind your words; picking which lane to drive in turning into following the norm or not conforming. Excellent read. I really like the last stanza. It was just a perfect ending.
Small spelling mistake:
"Strait [Straight] through the open meadow and away from the street"

[Robert Lindsay]

It did just fine - who is to say there's just two roads anyway..

[Vyctm]

Wow... you got ratings fast. I liked this the best of everything you have written. The flow was steady and the plot made me want to jizz in my pants.

[the in between]

100/100 sorry hahha forgot to rate it

[the in between]

I loved this :D i've felt like this almost all my life ahahahaha which rode?hmmmm

favorite paragraph:The clangor of a horn broke the stillness of night

Heart racing, I slammed my foot on the gas

Not thinking! Not hesitating! I turned neither left nor right

Following my heart, I drove straight through to the grass