The Words Not Spoken

The Words Not Spoken

(after Robert Frost)

Whose words these are, I think I know.
She couldn’t bear to speak them, though.
Instead, she let me find them here,
And she departed with the snow.

My friends will likely find it queer
To see me walk without her near
Down to the park and by the lake
Where I proposed to her last year.

The hands that hold her missive shake.
I’m sure there must be some mistake.
Her graceful letters swirl and sweep
As whirling winds would toss a flake.

My heart is lonely, dark and deep,
But I have only words to keep
And memories plague my fitful sleep,
And memories plague my fitful sleep.

— Stace Johnson, 2002

(Please take the time to read Frost’s original poems,
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” at and “The Road Not Taken” at

Busy Day

Brainstormed online with friends Mary and Michael about Michael’s story, worked more on the revision of “Saint and Cynic.” Did homework for tomorrow night’s Tem workshop, which resulted in a new poem called “The Words Not Spoken,” an experiment based mainly on Frost’s “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” I borrowed the form from this poem, and the title was inspired by “The Road Not Taken” by the same poet. It was a fun experiment; I haven’t written a good poem for a while. (Some would say I’ve never written a good poem!) I also attended Stories for All Seasons. Busy day for creativity.