07-28-2009 10:36 PM - edited 07-28-2009 10:41 PM
You know how poetry used to be all about flowers and trees and mountains and all that? Well imagine if they'd lived in modern cities. Maybe Wordsworth would have waxed poetic about a host of golden cabs. Or Kilmer would have written, "I think that I shall never see/ A poem lovely as a marquee." Give it your best shot, and put the words into their mouths.
My entry is a sort of cheat- I actually wrote it two years ago, after being stuck in Manhattan traffic.
The Highway Not Taken
Two roads diverged in a city ‘hood
And sorry cars could not fly, outside
Of science-fiction novels, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where bright taxis would give a ride
Then took the other, no less smogged
And having perhaps a better claim
Because that avenue less cars hogged
Though N.Y. traffic being so clogged
It might be backed-up just the same
And both in that morning equally lay
On asphalt no tire had yet streaked black
Oh, I kept the first for another day
Yet knowing how cars crash on the way
I doubted if I should U-turn back
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence
Two roads diverged in New York, and I-
I took the one less trafficked by
And it made two hour’s difference.
"Fear not, for our army is strong and courageous."
"Just hope they don't sober up before we get there".
-Bored of the Rings