The following is my first attempt at writing a rictameter. I had never heard of this poetry form until recently. I found it fun and challenging.
The Woods
The woods
sleep in winter.
No sad remembering.
Now I have reached my own ending,
my life shadowed by ancient memories,
the sharply pointed edges smooth.
This last instant remains,
a brief gray dream--
the woods.
Copyright 2008 Marianne McNamara


Comments: 15
Thank you for the great compliment! Robert Frost is one of my favorite poets and "Stopping By Woods" is one of my favorite poems.
You're right, it is a nicely eerie trip through the woods of metaphor. I love that! Thanks for a GREAT comment.
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