From Poem to Screen

 This page is dedicated to "a little something extra" which will change from time to time according to the prevailing winds. It might be a humor piece or an essay or a poem, or a rant, or a fairy tale, or all of them mixed together. 

From Poem to Screen

Whose woods these are I think I know. 
Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening
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 is 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. 

    “Who’s on line two? Bob Frost?” 
    “Bobby, how’s it hanging, baby? How’s Vermont? Sap still rising?” “Oh, mending walls, eh? Make sure you get a good contractor. This guy Sophie got on the guest house, he’s a goneph. I swear, I’m pouring money down a rat hole.
 "So what have you got for me, baby? A new poem? Pitch me! Two ears, no waiting.” “Stopping in the Woods on a Snowy Evening? Great title. Says it all. Three teen-age couples, cabin in the woods, axe-murderer, chop, chop, chop, big box office, I can smell the money, these kids can’ get enough of the crap!
 “No – no axe-murderer? Sex frolic? No teen-agers? Guy stops in the woods, woods fill up with snow. So his car breaks down, what, he’s pitted against nature, there’s wolves, maybe a bear, maybe Dick and Perry, or it’s Deliverance New England style?
    “No car. He’s got a little horse. You mean he’s – no, a real horse. Okay, yeah, I’m still with you, Bob. What’s that about the horse?” “The horse thinks he’s queer for stopping. 
    “Have you shopped this to the Weinsteins at all?” “No, no, I’m just not sure how we play that beat, the – oh, he gives his harness bells a shake. Yeah, a nice touch. I’m sure Tom Hanks could pull it off. He was golden with that soccer ball.”
    “Bob, is there a girl, maybe back in the city, I’m thinking a Jennifer Lopez type, she and Hanks have had a fight, hot Puerto Rican temper, Hanks bangs out the door headed for the woods in the snow, now she’s worrying like crazy, she calls the cops, they send out maybe Donald Sutherland or Ray Liotta ---
      “The woods are lovely, dark and deep … no, that’s nice. I know Chris Nolan is looking for another project before he starts Batman Begins IV. You might want someone with indy cred.
      “Promises to keep? Hey, nobody’s breaking any promises. You’re signed for a three-poem deal, baby. I’m just saying, I think the studios are looking more for something like Fire and Ice. That was huge for us last summer.
      “Miles to go? Tell me about it. I’m up to my neck every day. You should see what Walt Whitman sent us. Way over budget, two hours too long, the guy’s got final cut, there’s no talking to these prima donnas.
      “If you’re having any problems that way, listen, my doctor put me on this new shit, I’m sleeping like a baby now. Yeah, I wake up every three hours and cry. No, really, I got extra, don’t mention it, it’s in the mail.
     “Bobby, Bobby, why don’t you put something together, a treatment, have your people send it over to us, you know we want to see it. Who have we got left who knows how to bring in a poem on time, with end-stopped rhymes? Think about the J-Lo angle, that’s all I’m asking. Talk to you soon, Bobby.
      “Who’s on one, Cecil? Sylvia Plath? I am so not ready for that psycho-drama. Tell her I’m in a meeting, I’ll call her back as soon as I get out. And get me Rob Browning on the line. I need a re-write on this piece of shit dramatic monologue Bruckheimer’s hot for.”

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