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Best Odin Roark Poems

Below are the all-time best Odin Roark poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Details | Odin Roark Poem

Endangered Trailblazing

Endangered Trailblazing
                                  by Odin Roark

Astride his father’s shoulders,
Like a double decker bus,
There was always what his father saw,
And the child’s gaze beyond.
They learned together
What their senses taught them of reality.

There were so many hills his father climbed,
The boy seeing what was ahead on horizons,
The father focused on firm footholds,
Following trusted forest imprints,
Relying on tradition’s habitude.

This father is long gone now.
This boy of shoulder wonderment
Has grown wise of rugged tracks
Leading to this day.

The day…

A stormy December afternoon
Staring through a digital lens
Atop a mid-town observation deck,
The boy now a man
Stares outs across a skyscraper landscape,
A winterous tundra his father never had to pioneer.

Realizing the Now of navigating
Relies little on the primitive tracks,
When plant,
Animal,
Rock,
Weather,
Parts of the undeniable whole
Determined shelter and food,
Life and death.

Wisdom,
The oft missing essence of success,
Impacts little of today’s aspiration,
Whose awareness respects not learned footprints,
Nor hardened determination
To stay true to a right direction,
Instead…

All too often
Success honors but bushwhacked obstacles,
The opportunity to conquer any and all,
The razed aside,
Inert and live,
Banished and dead,
Leaving many to query
What lens can sharpen that which isn’t there?

Today’s existence is but yesterday’s ethereal presence,
Once preceded by integritous footholds/handholds,
The resplendent oneness of nature’s vast inner-connection,
Now all but buried beneath
A stumbling culture’s duplicitous stepping stones.

Tracks lead precariously to penthouse suites
Where an eagles nest is but a Britannica reference,
A redolent library book of often ignored history
Reminding a father’s boy
Staring through glass-layered revelation
That decisions need pondering past momentary reward,
That Nature’s swirling white layering the once wilderness of discovery
May be foreshadowing avalanche forces
Unrestrained in their ability to bury man.

Pulling his eye away from the telescope,
He considers a wind gust
Lifting snow daring not to confront the ground,
Choosing instead to swirl,
To levitate with perhaps man’s exhausted currents from below,
Struggling to rise through waning memory,
Trajectories of so many devoted fathers
Trusting honest trailblazing would never disappear.

Fortunately…

Like the cyclic snows from on high,
Rising temperatures initiate their own revolution.
Endings return to beginnings
Nullifying load and weight.

Time’s undaunted sagacity knows
Once civilization’s latest aspiration expends,
Creation knows no better
Than to invent new trails,
New boys on father’s shoulders,
Tomorrow’s then and now…
Again.


Details | Odin Roark Poem

Candle Whispers

Candle Whispers

Moths and other creatures
find peril in hovering
especially above seductive candle flame

Yet

We sentient beings
hover not
instead
keep vigil over imagined messages
awaiting the magic
the comfort of vision

As we stare

Buried passions
encouraged by flame
make sacrificial
the walls of insulation
while our fortressed barriers
forfeit protection
dissolving resistance
becoming a river of liquefied defense

We wonder

Is the flame but deception
entrapment
subtle weaponry
seducing the innocent
destroying the gullible

Or

Is it pure light
ignitable by will
extinguishable by nature
its essence of imagination
weaving a ribbon of warmth
among the unlit kindling of love

For just as the cynical enemy
bounces its cold shadows of hurt
restlessly about the wall
waving its determinant position
one's heart beats echoes of defiance

Such are the candle's iconic images
empowering the ether of life
ever simple
ever flexible
even as its waxen folds
melt into mounds of spent energy
awaiting recycled resurrection

Darkness questions

But if we listen

Flame's inner glow whispers its promise to return


Details | Odin Roark Poem

Quietude

Quietude
          by Odin Roark

Quietude
Like a tree’s dark shadow
Knows only the absorption of all colors
Rendering the din of senses
A cacophonous silence

How gentle the process
Once resistance abates
The mind’s own deprivation tank
Engendering trust void of fear

Yet

So hesitant are many
To embrace the white light
To wait out nature’s tintinnabulation
The white noise becoming aphonic

To lay oneself down
Afloat atop the water
The grass
The ethereal reality of consciousness
Where leaves of brown
Beneath the awaiting orange of 
Red and yellow repeat nature’s cycle

Where jasmine lures the mulch of life
Into purity’s gateway
Patiently biding time’s eternal truth
Preparing one with zero

The hush of peace
The quiet of love
The mutation of hate
Conjoin in harmony’s sublime reward
The circle of quietude



Details | Odin Roark Poem

6 Second Trailer

6 Second Trailer

OMG
Did you see it?
OMG
Its...
I'm...
Oh
My
God

It's a fantastic flick
This is...
OMG

The full trailer?

It's coming
It's coming
OMG
So am I

Did you see her...
His...
Its...
Oh
So sweet
Gotta tweet
Gotta sleep

Don't ya love it
OMG

Who wrote it?

The screenplay?
Who cares?

Opening?

Premiering 2015

Bit early, eh?

What, the trailer?
Ya think?

Yeah, but
WTF
YOLO


Details | Odin Roark Poem

Paper Doll Chorus Line

Paper Doll Chorus Lines
                         by Odin Roark

Sun and wind
Imagination’s puppeteer
Turn and twist cutout paper dolls
Strung across blown out window casements
Creating daily enchantment amidst the smoke

How precious
These afternoons
As scissors assist small fingers prepare 
The matinée performance
Cutting daily “stay in your homes” flyers
Into dancing friends

Soon
Say the mothers
The war stage
Will be replaced by
Velvet curtained openings
Where make-believe hope 
Will find flesh and blood still intact
Renewed hearts respecting
Freedom
Happiness

Soon


Details | Odin Roark Poem

Energy's Suffocating Gallop

Energy’s Suffocating Gallop
                                  by Odin Roark

Ancient blood soaked sand
Plumes its sticky residue
Beneath rapacious hooves 

Dust storms of evil stampeding beside pipelines
Goad flow to tankers
Where ubiquitous black gold addiction 
Steers toward pervasive profit-docks  

Behind sweat lathered greed
Winds of historic baggage
Tether their historic words and song
Blessings and curses
Exciting swirling vortexes

Windmills of molten fire
Entitlement’s rape and pillage of breath
Of pores once absorbing purity
Evil’s global bubble
Appearing as mankind'

Robed in white zealotry
The blinded hawk-minds
Embrace the Middle East predatory contaminant
Wallowing in solipsistic riches forgotten
Awake only to pick tomorrow’s gluttonous prey

The world turns on turbine propulsion
With oceans bowing to its slavery
Delivering liquid smokestack suffocation
Silent killers preparing ghosts 
Of time’s new-century-plague 
Ignored

As oil gorged tankers find port  
Release their pandemic sleight of hand
A destruction as innocent as rabbits from a hat
Charms the ignorant
Beguiles the wannabes

Wheeled transport
Delivers the demise of children’s hearts
Left to take a number
Unaware there is no lottery
Only loser-consciousness 
Adult indulgence clinging desperately
To evil’s mane and tail
As it whips gullible eyes
Into cataract submission

Alien life hovers above
Grieving the minions destined
To find black energy’s ashen dust
Sprinkling its fool’s gold
Upon a barren planet


Details | Odin Roark Poem

X Continues Marking Many Spots

X Continues Marking Many Spots
                        by Odin Roark

Anonymous living suits many,
gypsy fever of the brain.

Seldom hiding in the shadows,
the glare of klieg-light attention
forever glares upon responsibility,
a disease to many,
a growing malady for most,
a welcome invitation to others.

Even back then,
at twenty,
the waking age,
at least for this X,
a Midwest-ignoramus,
a miscreant not even aware,
experience was about
to render raw and tender the face.

The vengeance proffered
gloriously fait accompli,
needing not the klieg light focus,
better mere awakening
by simpler means
like...
like,
a few beers,
so liberating,
so embarrassing.

This '56 student of students,
bathed in the drenching of
Kerouac,
Baldwin,
Miller,
Bergman,
Fellini,
Truffaut,
Godard,
Kieslowski,
Antonioni,
damned near drowning
in flailing need to see
and survive.

After all…

This was education,
totally missing
from cult religious dogma,
not offered in Aristotelian mode.

So…

Here X was,
always at the Plaza screens,
or the Waverly,
Saturday nights,
lasting forever.

X along with some buddy Y's and Z's
exited the art houses and made their way,
oh yeah,
to the Russian Tea Room.

Saved up rations of money…

Black Russians,
minimal water,
more Black Russians,
the world as we discovered it,
not the world as professed
All around us.

There
in Italy,
France,
Poland,
life seemed somehow more real
not caked over with candied syrup
like American’s urban seduction.

Oh how we longed
to be part of it…
make films.

But more important,
discover what it was all about,
this life
that for many

Was but professed by a God.

Those were times,
magical times
where peeling away the facade
was so delicious,
while we got wasted.

Along about 2 AM
Columbus Circle Books.

Sit on the floor,
thumb through 25 cent paperbacks,
always a Nietzsche,
a dog-eared Menninger,
a used Baldwin,
treasures we could afford.

‘Course…
We had to careful to save enough
for the subway.

We…

The X Y's and Z's hugged,
kissed with manly disregard,
Hell,
we didn’t care who was watching.

We were happy.
We were learning.
We were happening.

X dragged his weary ass up
the 4 flights
screwed back in the light bulb
old man in 4f always unscrewed,
figuring no one's gonna rob
a dark floor.

Simple shit.

But…
love him
to this day.
He was wise.
My first introduction to street cred
in spite of his oldness.

Next morning…

Ah,
Sunday New York Times,
Espresso,
Aspirin,

Growing up.

Learning the hard way.

Sublime,
One’s x’s.


Details | Odin Roark Poem

Snake Oil Free Speech

Snake Oil Free Speech
          by Odin Roark

Listen close
Here’s what’s going to happen

This is where the rubber leaves the road
The father gripping the wheel
The mother with Coleman cooler at her feet
Beach towels and blankets on her lap
Clueless children in the back seat
Smart-phone-games dumbing down consciousness

You’ll be cruising into the sunset
A barren swamp peppered countryside receding
As oncoming ocean depth
Reflects your personal blood-red sky

All the evil will vanish
As you leave the highway
Slip and slide the sandy road
Dodge beer cans and mistake’s exhausted condoms
Coming suddenly to destination’s end 

Your transport will cough its last fumes of gas
Your seat’s cushy-springs will explode
Like coiled serpents in waiting
As icy breath clouds evil-singed windows

Welcome to your Last Stop Beach
Swollen with humanity’s layered dead-cell cake
Iced over with slathered Coppertone delusions
Past attempts at escape
Now but flotsam washed ashore 

You’ll try to remain calm
But your virtual-arcade will quickly drown
Along with my Sunday morning radio voice
Gurgling a personal salvation promise
Just for you

And that’s what’s going to happen
The final waves will disappear your sorry lives
Until the awaited day of resurrection
For he told me so


Details | Odin Roark Poem

The Revelation of Winter's Warmth

The Revelation of Winter’s Warmth
                                  by Odin Roark

What values do we so readily disregard
these short days of winter?

How easily we ignore
air filled with crystalline arrest,
bestowing remembrance of colors in respite,
while we engage our will to embrace
the resistance, the invitation to accept.

Winter ushers us to perfect seats
where bows of pine and oak wood
curl their needle and leaf
into protection and sleep,
a wisdom we know little of,
nature’s ancestral intransience.

This stage of emptiness soon overflows,
like protective strands of lace interlocked,
woven crystals that cloak bare branches
while crusts of ice bear final witness,
time’s cover for now,
irrigation come spring.

How wise
this four act saga of nature,
void of discrimination,
knowing how little life requires
of comfort we so covetously horde,
even as rarefied light,
that which never hides in the shadows,
always provides,
if only we would pause…
allow.

Fortunately

An audience of seeds will survive
amidst a huddled awareness,
providing innate connection
to all that is,
from all that was,
those knowing well
that which patience rewards.

When will we learn…

Survival of the fittest
understands beyond the science,
beyond a season,
gathering carefully the warmth to offer later,
one body to another,
revealing the exponential wonder
to other unique crystals in flight,
the we of them,
the them of us.

Nature’s singularity,
so very near for some,
a winter’s cold away for others.


Details | Odin Roark Poem

Winter Cabin Reality

Winter Cabin Reality
            by Odin Roark

The storm door
Improperly closed
Bangs violently
The clapboard shedding
White paint chips
Wounds without first aid
Flecks of age
Mixing with the drifting snow

Walls shudder with the gusts
Windowpanes rattle their death threat
Should one shatter
Beware flood gates of frozen forever

When will guardians arrive
The stewards of their weary retreat
Providing solace for this place
We so willing endure

Harsh punishment
This loneliness of disuse
The fear of abandonment
Looming
Looming
Always looming

Such anxiety for...
In order...
In order to...
Appease elements restless
Unhappy
Feeling forsaken

The stove sad
Laboring for no one
The refrigerator longing
Waiting like a giant petri dish
Anxious to be opened and examined

Bed covers squirm amidst
Nature's innate seekers of shelter
Six-leggers pass four-leggers in the night
Perplexed
Wondering
Where is everyone?

Field mice
The basements fortress of faith
Anticipate the happy slogging
Of drunken feet above
The excess food celebrated not
Falling through spaces of beamed flooring
Affording reserves for future seasons of need

Thus awaits the wilderness shelter
Determined to remain creative
As temperatures drop even lower
On this little respected life-saver
Multiple-soul make-over haven
Urban's satellite arbiter for sanity

Earnestly it awaits yesterday's loyally
Its generational-visitor relay
Its reason to hold on
Its inducement
To stay whole
Just one more year

Crunching snow outside raises hope
Two mice
Three spiders
One gentle squirrel share
"Got to be more than a bear"


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