My freind calls me from the road

On the road my friend calls,

His voice a distant echo,

Through the wires and waves,

Connecting our souls.

From a world unknown,

He shares his adventures,

A symphony of sights and sounds,

Painting vivid images in my mind.

He speaks of dusty highways,

Stretching into the horizon,

Endless possibilities on each turn,

A nomadic spirit guiding his way.

Mountains rise and valleys fall,

Nature's grandeur on full display,

He breathes the air of freedom,

As he traverses the open road.

In bustling cities, he finds solace,

Amidst the chaos and constant motion,

Lost in the rhythm of unfamiliar streets,

A dance of humanity in diverse beats.

He encounters strangers along the way,

Their stories woven into his tapestry,

Kindred spirits bound by chance,

Brief connections, yet profound.

Under starry skies, he finds peace,

Camping beneath a blanket of twinkling lights,

A solitary soul embraced by nature's embrace,

Awakening a sense of wonder and grace.

Through his words, I taste the flavors,

Of distant lands and foreign cuisines,

Spices and aromas fill the air,

Transporting me to far-off places.

He describes the warmth of friendships,

Forged in the crucible of shared experiences,

Bonded by laughter and tears,

A tribe of wanderers, forever linked.

Sometimes fatigue takes its toll,

Weariness seeping into his bones,

Yet his spirit remains undeterred,

Fuelled by dreams and unquenchable curiosity.

He seeks not just destinations,

But the essence of existence itself,

Discovering fragments of his own soul,

In the vastness of the open road.

And as his journey unfolds,

I listen intently, grateful for his call,

For his voice brings me closer,

To the beauty of the world outside.

Through his eyes, I see anew,

The magic hidden in everyday life,

Reminded of the boundless possibilities,

That lie beyond the confines of routine.

So, my friend, keep calling from the road,

Share your tales of adventure and awe,

For in each word, I find inspiration,

To embark on my own journey of the soul.

And when our paths converge once more,

We'll reminisce about the roads we've traveled,

With hearts full of memories,

And a longing for new horizons to explore.

But until then, my friend,

Call me from the road,

And let your voice carry me away,

To distant lands and infinite dreams.

POEM 2

When a friend calls to me from the road

And slows his horse to a meaning walk,

I don’t stand still and look around

On all the hills I haven’t hoed,

And shout from where I am, What is it?

No, not as there is a time to talk.

I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,

Blade-end up and five feet tall,

And plod: I go up to the stone wall

For a friendly visit.

“A Time to Talk

When a friend calls to me from the road

And slows his horse to a meaning walk,

I don't stand still and look around

On all the hills I haven't hoed,

And shout from where I am, What is it?

No, not as there is a time to talk.

I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,

Blade-end up and five feet tall,

And plod: I go up to the stone wall

A Time to Talk’ is a ten-line poem that is contained within one block of text. Frost has chosen to imbue this piece with a specific rhyme scheme, following the pattern of abcadbceed. The pattern is loose, with the matching rhymes scattered throughout the ten lines. This choice unifies the text but also keeps the reader from knowing which lines are going to rhyme and when. There is an element of surprise to the form. The same can be said for the rhythmic pattern as there is no set standard for the lines, although all contain between six and nine syllables.

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