The Seven Circles of Frost A Poem on The Road Not Taken By Sharik Currimbhoy Ebrahim

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​The Seven Circles of Frost

A Poem on The Road Not Taken

By Sharik Currimbhoy Ebrahim


Introduction

“The Road Not Taken” seems straightforward: a nameless traveler is faced with a choice: two paths forward, with only one to walk. But for a century readers and critics have fought bitterly over what the poem really says. Is it a paean to triumphant self-assertion, where an individual boldly chooses to live outside conformity? Or a biting commentary on human self-deception, where a person chooses between identical roads and yet later romanticizes the decision as life altering? Orr artfully reveals is that the poem speaks to both of these impulses, and all the possibilities that lie between them. 

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The Seven Circles of Frost
A Poem on The Road Not Taken
By Sharik Currimbhoy 



Reading Frost on a Frosty Day I begun to think
What he had to say. 
         Two roads in front of him Equally lay…
One looking worn, a little grey The other brand new, 
Shiny dared by a few. 
And from the bard comes a paradox Of which door opens, when one knocks. 
The Road less travelled He says with pride
Is there a puzzle in the maze in the riddle inside?
Go Forth Boldly 
It means to some
But do think twice for some do strum And walk their walk to a different drum. 
      A beat that beats to a different beat Meaning not always what they doublespeak. 
Truthfully there, 
For those who Seek
But not for the frail
And, not meant for the weak. 
“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry He was could not travel both As one traveler, long he stood
And looked down one as far as he could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black.” But really perhaps, 
       He found no ways forwards, And No Ways back.
        For as foretold: 
The road to Hell is paved with gold Like Dante’s Inferno
life slowly unfolds
            Burns wise mens eyes
                     blinds poor mens souls. 

       After walking leisurely around the bend He sees them both equal in the end. But equal then how did he know? The other a mystery left untold 
Forever sealed Not meant to unfold.
It made no difference
Then in the end
Which went straight 
and which had a bend
        Life is not a game of 
happenstance
Nor a flip of the coin, or based on a glance.
        “It was the road” 
We tell ourselves 
But was it really the road  In The End?
Or did but just
One 
 of me,
bite the apple that fell from that tree?

     My Foes: Did I Fear, 
Did I Fight, 
Did I Flee?
How much by force was taken by me? How did I walk upon that path
Did the world get to feel my wrath? Did my life have both joy and strife? Did my words ever cut like a knife? Did I live and love and hate 
Did I ever 
Scorch the ground with my gait. 
     Did I have vision, or merely just see And did poor Zeus 
throw his lightbolt at me
Only to miss, 
because Me 
was a We?

       Fire and Ice make a good match To spark a spark 
To match a match. 
Life upon on life was never enough For life piles on life
We see too much 
To walk the walk endlessly
To hoard with the horde, 
Would that give us glee?
     Did we show the World to be One
The chosen Two, anointed Suns.
Did the Sky Glow, from bridges We Burnt    What did we eat, Where did we Hunt? Did we sit by the Waterfront 
And laugh and cry 
And recount every stunt. 
Did we drink life to the lees
Swim the Oceans          and cross the seas
To meet the great Democlates?
And did he then avert his gaze with a glance
Knowing he had been given, one more chance. 
Did we ever find what makes men free
Did we see every sight, 
Hear every plea. 
Who did we love, Who did we hate
Did we lay waste to Alexander the Great 
  Both Fire and Ice, You see 
is our Fate.

     Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
And in the middle there I stood 
We walked neither road 
and both 
with a Smile
By walking  all Walks
       the Walk was worthwile. 
           

Follow me on Twitter: @sce_as_one
 


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Image
The Seven Circles of Frost A Poem on The Road Not Taken By Sharik Currimbhoy Ebrahim Introduction “The Road Not Taken” seems straightforward: a nameless traveler is faced with a choice: two paths forward, with only one to walk. But for a century readers and critics have fought bitterly over what the poem really says. Is it a paean to triumphant self-assertion, where an individual boldly chooses to live outside conformity? Or a biting commentary on human self-deception, where a person chooses between identical roads and yet later romanticizes the decision as life altering? Orr artfully reveals is that the poem speaks to both of these impulses, and all the possibilities that lie between them.  ----------------- The Seven Circles of Frost A Poem on The Road Not Taken By Sharik Currimbhoy  Reading Frost on a Frosty Day I begun to think What he had to say.          Two roads in front of him Equally lay… One looking worn, a little grey The othe...
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