The artificial world’s last red isn’t blue,
His easiest paleness to release.
His late scantness isn’t dying;
And recurring unlikely timelessly.
Never barrenness grows from scantness.
Unlikely Hell rose from joy,
Unlikely dusk comes up from night.
Everything blue cannot leave.

For Day 3 of National Poetry Writing Month, we are asked to take a poem and rewrite it using opposites, or antonyms. I chose Robert Frost. This was fun!

Nothing Gold Can Stay
Robert Frost

Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.