There is absolutely nothing that can stop me thinking about the things in a poem, that a poet did not say. Be that a great or a small poet. I mean anyone. The greatness of a writer or poet does not make me a great reader or a great thinker. When I read great poets, I think, “I am such a significant person of my century, who will contribute to the wellbeing of masses with her unique mind; I will fill the space that the poet unknowingly left”. I take pride in my thoughts . And I believe that my critical analysis of ” what ” the poet did not say ‘or did not even imply, is so much entertaining. So, for a while I let lose or loose my brain like a paper kite to places where it wants to fly.
Do I cherish the lofty thoughts of the poets?
Absolutely not, I hate to get influenced by the lofty thoughts of the great poets, especially when I am alone. Dude, how much it hurts to be a great person, do you have any idea? How much the great people are hurting in their heads because they think too much. I am afraid that I may feel pressurized to make some serious promises to God. Then I may act intelligent or modest or become philosopher by the end of the year. Ultimately under the influence of some poet I will apparently become such an exalted one that someday I will regret being that painfully great . Certainly, that is a loss. For sure who cares, if I am great person in myself. At the end of the day, it is only the food on the table that is cooked and served fresh. My son wants only that and he does not care why I had been thinking about a certain horse. The horse? yes, the horse.
The Horse and Robert Frost in the poem ‘Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
No, nothing can make me think what Robert Frost really meant when he talked about his poor horse in the woods. It was Robert’s fault not of the horse when he stopped there. The poor horse had a valid question. I am still sure, Robert did not answer him, even after a century. So sorry for the horse standing and waiting there. Ok, let us move ahead, the poet certainly tried to say something deep at the end of the poem …. What was that. Well, I need to drink an ounce of olive oil to understand his point. The olive oil bottle has caught dust while sitting on the kitchen shelf. I am even afraid to get near and God forbid if drink olive oil and the neurons in my head may catch electric current. And the result ……
Am I a normal or a regular Person?
The question in itself is inherently wrong. Nobody wants to be a normal, or a regular person. Because a normal person is an ordinary person and nobody likes to be called ordinary. They feel insulted. Well, again mostly I feel elated and happier when I try to think and go to the opposite road of every great writer. It takes so much sacrifices and patience to become a good person. While only a careless idiot can enjoy life thoroughly . After all what matters most is the question, did we enjoy life before it ended?
I Am More of a Natural Person ?
Wow, yes, these days everybody loves to talk about nature, going green, being vegan, talking respectfully about mother nature. So, I am natural. I take refuge in nature to look nice. I explain it how? This is quite a human trait to go against things that are deemed obligatory for our wellbeing. So, I am too normal a person. Someday I will again try to ponder on this new found definition of being” too normal.
Who is going to suffer?
Mark it, if you are special or different from others , you are going to suffer. Being different and unique does not serve anything . I trust God for the right timing of making me intelligent. That day will come and I am not hopeless. Nobody should feel hopeless ever in life . But I secretly pray that my particular prayer does not come true. I am more interested in enjoying life than being such respectable lady of grace that people fear to go near.
The woods, snow and the horse
Let’s again go back to that serious looking horse, I left in the woods with Robert Frost. Has the horse moved a bit? No. The woods were full of snow. Robert Frost with his horse stopped there. People like me in the middle of hot summer nights read that poem and cherish the idea of cool soft, snow. I want to grab some snowflakes. Yes, the evening was dark but the nights are darker than evenings. The woods were dark, lovely and deep. After all Robert admitted that it was a nice place. He was lucky not feeling the hot summer of my country. I wish he had come here for the weekend only.
Critical Conclusion Yes, I mean really a critical conclusion. Whatever was the whole purpose and the real point of Robert Frost’s poem does not matter now. At the end, Robert Frost decided to go to sleep and so do I. The only significant difference between his night and my night is that, mine is hot summer night and swarms of Dracula mosquitoes enjoy the prospect of sucking my blood. I wonder why my neighbors think I am a lazy person if I have mosquito bites on me. I will figure out soon. Two spoons of olive oils are what I need to take to solve this difficult question.
Note ; This article I took as a challenge with my son , to create humor about a thing ( being Robert Frost,s poem here ) , that has very serious purpose .