Stopping by the grass on a sunday morning

Scribbled this while chewing my pen cap over a maths assignment,was my first attempt this semester to 'try' do an assignment myself (i knew i would copy it later anyway). The dire state of the cap was analogous to my brain's state within, and i wondered how nice it would have been were the pen cap to be a releiving roll of smoking grass! suddenly an urge overcame me to tease dear Mr.frost. (P.S have never tried grass,smack,hashish,ganja!... but we can all guess what it's like). That was yesterday morning,sunday 24th feb,2008. here goes...





Stopping by the grass on a sunday morning.




Which books these are i think i know.

their place is not on my table, though;

no one saw me ever near

the library or the campus book store.

My dear friends must think it queer

" He only smiles and never fears!

between the C and frozen F

his grades remain year after year. "



They stop me,give me a nasty shake,

to ask if i am a big mistake!

The only other sound's the sweep

of the yelling prof. ... my life's at stake.


The books are lovely white n black,

But i want my shots of grass or smack,

And miles i fly reeling forth n back,

and miles i fly reeling forth n back.

ladies n gentlemen, " Stopping by the 'grass' on a sunday morning"... by Supro Antifreeze.
(No offence meant to dear Mr.Frost, i remain his fan forever). As a tribute and for reader's to compare and enjoy, am also posting the original poem. Its one of my favourites.

Stopping by the woods on a snowy evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village, though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there's some mistake.

The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.


The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.




-Robert Frost