The Road Less Traveled

By James Banakis

August 16th, 2026

Samuel Taylor Coleridge famously defined poetry as, “the best words in the best order“. This definition captures the essence of rhythms, emotions, and vivid imagery of this literary art. The reason I find this definition of poetry is so perfect yet so simple is that it is itself poetry. I’ve always thought that poetry was feelings from the heart captured as a photograph might be.  A moment in time conveying a message to be shared. A friend of mine once told me that whenever he really missed a loved one, he’d place a favorite photograph of the person against his cheek, close his eyes, and the person would connect with his heart. I’ve of course tried it, and if you open your heart, it works. Poetry works the same way.

The ideal way to learn and appreciate poetry is from someone who loves you. I learned about it from my mother. She and I both attended the same high school 23 years apart. Our curriculum required four years of English, and a memory selection each month. If I think back, those 40 some selections are the things I still can recall and treasure, all these years later. They included poems by Frost, Tennyson, Whitman, Dickinson, and Byron. Literary selections were reaped from Hemingway, Churchill, Homer, Lincoln, the Bible, and Shakespeare.

This past weekend the film The Odyssey was released, and garnered extremes of praise and scorn along the lines of our political discords. Homer’s work was originally passed down orally in poetry form. Through the years poets have been inspired by this most human story ever told and interpreted its meaning in verse. In this collection are two of my favorite poems. The first is one that today’s feminists would find riddled with male toxicity, Ulysses, by Alfred Tennison. In it, the author doesn’t attempt to retell the story but beautifully describes the protagonist.

“To follow knowledge like a sinking star, beyond the utmost bound of human thought…to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield”

The second poem has become the most meaningful in my life, Ithica, by C.A. Cavafy. The poet exquisitely relates one’s lifetime as a journey back to Ithica, the place we all strive to return to. I encourage you to Google this poem and read it in its entirety. If poetry touches your heart, this one delivers. Here’s an excerpt,

 Keep Ithaka always in your mind.

 Arriving there is what you’re destined for.

 But don’t hurry the journey at all. Better if it

lasts for years, so, you’re old by the time you

reach the island, wealthy with all you’ve gained on the way,

Poetry has always affected leadership. Walt Whitman’s poem “O Captain! My Captain!” is the main verse in the film, the Dead Poets Society. It mirrors leaders’ obligations and sacrifices. Winston Churchill often quoted Shakespeare and Kipling in his speeches. He would also launch into verse many times moving himself to tears as the occasion touched him. John F. Kennedy valued poetry and literature, frequently quoting verse in his brief time of governance. Kennedy invited Robert Frost to his inauguration and observed:

‘When power leads man towards arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the areas of man’s concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of his existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses. For art establishes the basic human truth which must serve as the touchstone of our judgment.’

In the customary drift of life, our parents precede us in death. One of the heart wrenching duties we perform as children is to sort out and distribute their belongings and effects. When my mother passed, I found a small collection of poems she wrote as a young girl before life overwhelmed her with family and matriarchal duty. It connected me with her as nothing else ever did. My other treasured effect is the original book of poetry, The Poet’s Craft, that she read to us before bedtime. Lastly, a painting she inherited from my Godmother. She loved the painting because to her it represented The Road Not Taken, by Robert Frost. The poem and the painting evoke a “sigh” emphasizing a sense of longing and uncertainty.  It now has a special place in my home and my heart.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I – 

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

-30-

Jimmy Banakis is a life-long restaurateur.  He was an honorary batboy for the White Sox in 1964. He attended Oak Park River Forest High School, Nebraska Wesleyan University, and Chicago-Kent Law School.  He claims the kitchen is the room he’s most comfortable in anywhere in the world. He published an extremely limited-edition family cookbook. He’s a father and grandfather, and lives in Downers Grove Il.

Comments 22

  1. AI can’t wright poetry. Heartless human beings can not write poetry, speak poetry nor feel poetry.
    James Banakis teaches poetry better than most salaried classroom robots with certification.

  2. I remember when Poerty Slams were a thing for awhile, having grown out of the beatnik craze. (Snap, snap)

    Do they teach poetry in k-12 anymore? And limericks about Nantucket don’t count!

  3. Well said, Mr Banakis. A joy to read this Sunday Morning. BTW, speaking of a joy, how is Mr Kass doing lately? Have not seen any updates on his life’s situations lately.

  6. My 6 decade pal, Curt (Amundsen High School class of ’59) wrote poems for fun and mental challenge. He put his philosophical views into memorable, poignant and usually uplifting poems.

  7. Anytime I see an article written by Jim Banakis, I am always amazed by his writing skills. You can just feel the depth of caring, etc. I am so glad you and John Kass are friends & that you choose to write these articles. My mother also used to quote poetry to us & this brought back fond memories. Again, a lovely article.

  13. John is blessed to have such wonderful friends such as you that contribute to his columns. It is always a treat to read contributions from you as well as his other friends. I hope and pray John is doing well. We have not heard from him in a while.

  15. Yes. Poetry really connects to our hearts. I could still remember the Victorian era poem The Haystack in the Floods and the most often quoted verse of The Jehane the brown, ” Had she come all the way for this, To part at last without a kiss?” that I first read in 1958 as a freshman in the liberal arts college English class, in my home town. And nearly 12 -13 years later I had to go thru the same heart wrenching situation with this girl I met during my first year in graduate engineering school here, and after nearly 200 “letters, calls and complaints” shared among us during 1970-72! The reason? I was and am, still in the Victorian Era while she quickly adapted to the Sexual Revolution of the Sixties!, where thousands of young men were hurt more than the girls, themselves.
    -Nambi

  18. Thank you Jim….it’s wonderful to remember being read favorite poems by my father every Sunday evening. “Out of the night that covers me….” “Whose woods these are…” “Abu may his tribe increase”…and so many more. You sir are a wonderful writer and we thank John for inviting you to contribute. Don’t stop sharing.

  20. Thank you, Mr Banakis. A wonderful article.

    My mom read to us. When I was little, it was Eugene Field and Robert Louis Stevenson… Oh, how I loved The Duel (“The gingham dog and the calico cat, Side by side on the table sat…”)

    Because my mom read to us, I learned to love reading. I discovered Shakespeare on my own – as well as Shel Silverstein. Ha! And yes, I memorized more than a few lines of Frost as well.

    I’m not a poet, but when an older friend was placed in hospice a couple of months ago, I attempted a piece to let her know how much I valued her. Grateful for the chance to give her something before she left this world a week ago.

    Words matter.

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