Tag Archives: Humour


ROBERT FROST: The road not taken

..i came across one of my favourite poems by Robert thanks in part to my guardian angels at Chatter.. the graphic embellishment by zen pencils makes it better

ROBERT FROST: The road not taken.

ROBERT FROST: The road not taken

Three Kinds Of Rain III


She didn’t stir. Except for her quiet breaths, the refrigerator and a distant cricket, all was silent. I lay there, face in pillow, hands at my side like a soldier on parade, a gazillion thoughts racing through my mind. Strangely, the long-legged beauty by my side only featured a few times. And then it rained! Soft drops at first. I heard them on a tin roof outside. Then harder, their thud against the grass and ground like music to my ears. I could sleep soundly now. And harder still, now the plonk as they fell into the puddles forming outside. Then someone put a plastic basin out to harvest the rain and the symphony was broken. I gritted my teeth, willing the basin to move, to fill, and to stop making noise. Urrgghh! In my mind I pushed the basin aside but the rude rat-a-tat of raindrops on plastic did not stop as the basin was emptied and replaced. I pulled the pillow over my head to drown out the sound and although it was muffled, I could still hear it. Those fools! At this time? It must have been way after midnight, for I myself had returned late from work, hours before my bizarre bedfellow. I do not know how long I lay awake but my thoughts gave way to dreams, and my dreams to more dreams.
I awoke, startled by the harsh light streaming through the curtain. I propped myself on one elbow and looked across to the other side of my six-foot mattress. Empty! No sign of my guest. Was it a dream? No! It couldn’t have been, I never make my bed, nor sleep so neatly. I jumped out of bed and into the living room and saw large writing on a plain white paper across from me. I moved closer and knelt down on the threadbare red carpet I had bought for a song at one of those monthly flea markets. I couldn’t even remember where.
“Thank you!” the two words, large and neat, stared up at me. I turned the paper over and read my printed leave application form. I grimaced. Now I would have to go through the process of requesting for a new one again. I replaced the note it on the coffee set, and warmed to those words of gratitude,and smiled. Wait! Since when did I own a coffee set? I lifted my eyes slowly, methodically to the ugly beige wall, formerly hidden by the television set. And the oddity struck me, registering like it had been made out on an ancient typewriter. Ping!
“I have been robbed!!!”