Clogging Poetic: Closing The Studio On A Snowy Evening


(This clogger's take on a Robert Frost classic.)

Whose shoes these are I think I know.

She's left them at the studio.

I'll text her mom to say they're here,

So she's not searching high and low.


My clogging teammates think me odd

To ponder how these shoes have trod

From first dance class to gaining skill;

A student's effort I applaud.


I give the shoes a little shake

To hear the jingle clog taps make

And place them on the table here

To best endure their two-day break.


My own scuffed shoes show clogging's toll

And soon I must replace them whole,

As every basic wears my sole,

As every basic wears my soul.


Do YOU have a favorite poem you would like to see adapted into a Clogging Poetic feature?