Frost

i figured something out, a little, i did.
my blog comments are out of order,
i think i didn’t reset something from Rome time.
don’t know what, or how to correct this.

so Annie’s second comment on that post
way back, that mentioned Tom, got ahead of mine.
either i’m slow, or she’s swift and nibble.
maybe both.

you got’a watch these little people.
and never trust a librarian anyway.
Oh, Annie, i was teasing you.
you know that, don’t you?

okay, now a story to tell.
i have a college professor friend, Rob Smith, who won
the Robert Frost poetry contest three years ago.
wait, i just remembered something . . .

Howdy Dowdy, the TV puppet –
his best friend was Buffalo Bob Smith,
no relation i suppose. anyway,
i’m sitting on a frost-like poem.

a poem more like Robert Frost than Robert Frost,
so if his mother read it she’d yell,
“Robert get home, supper’s on the table getting cold,
and wipe your feet a’fore you come in.”

well, this year, fifty years after i wrote it
i submitted my poem to the Frost Foundation contest.
unfortunately, there are no letters after my name.
so scratch me up simply as s.o.l.

now, the following is the poem.
it wasn't acknowledged in the contest,
but for me it’s a winner.
printed here for the first and maybe the last time.

Geeze, i wait a life time
and now here it is:

Knowledge: is what i call it


Since man’s meager time on earth
A period quite concise
We’ve sought to find our collective worth
And never are precise.

It seems that none who’ve suffered birth
Have been able to entice
Knowledge to enter at full girth
Or, to take one’s own advice.