J6- Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening

This week we were to share our favorite poem and explain our reason for choosing it.

Poetry is the colors of the blind; the letters of music. It is the beauty of words expressed differently through each person, giving a clear insight to the mind and thoughts of the individual. Being an artist, I see poetry as a form of art where endless masterpieces can arise from a single medium; words. Yet, from that one medium I could invoke happiness, fear, passion, sorrow, laughter, tension, peace, I could show you how my mind interprets my surroundings and experiences,

“Tensed” by artist unknown

I could let you see the world through my eyes and you could feel the rush of emotion that I have experienced once upon a time. Poetry is an artistic way of communicating all the five senses along with other perception such as balance, feelings, emotions, and once the reader’s own sensory perceptions are aroused, then you know that poetry has reached its destination.

I have a great love for nature and the beauty and complexity of creation; therefore, through most of my poetry I give the reader glimpses of the busy new life in the spring, the excited air of change that comes with the golden evenings in autumn, or the still and silence of a frozen forest during mid-winter. My favorite thing about Robert Frost’s poetry is the simple yet rich imagery that take place in a single instant. Those small precious moments when life would stand still are sometime the most treasured memories we have. Reminiscing, my favorite childhood moments will flash in brief images, baking cookies in my grandmother’s kitchen, splashing in a creek with my cousins, or placing the last decoration on the Christmas tree, they continue to fly past. To capture a single dear moment and to translate it into words is a gift that Frost had and is what I admire most about his writing. Robert Frost’s poem “Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening” is my favorite poem of his.  On the surface, this poem is one of simplicity. The man and horse stops by some woods on a snowy evening. He or she takes in the lovely scene in near-silence, is tempted to stay longer, but acknowledges the pull of obligations and the considerable distance yet to be traveled before he or she can rest for the night.

Part of what is irrational about the woods is their attraction. They are restful, seductive, lovely, dark, and deep—like deep sleep, like oblivion. Snow falls in downy flakes, like a blanket to lie under and be covered by. But to rest too long while snow falls could cause the man to lose his way and the poem describes the temptation the man struggles with to sit and watch the beauty while his responsibilities are forgotten—to succumb to a mood for a while. It is the rich imagery and internal struggle between desire and responsibilities in this small moment that makes this one of my favorite poems.


Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening

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


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