For whatever reason, I started thinking this morning about "The Little Engine That Could." That, for some inexplicable reason spawned this poem. ----- Safety in numbers may not mean anything anymore. Innocence of heart risks annihilation. A tiny red button, pushed by any number of wanton countries could forever change the way we see things.
so we're told
we windows of the wall
With loneliness the price
for out there
our escape hatch
every eye beholds
is deemed priceless
so we're told
Our genesis began as holes
holes in cave walls
We idle our time
our frames anxious
Home Depot aisles our waiting rooms
Mary and her fork lift
will place a lucky-adopted
on a flatbed
Hammer and nail
will fix us upright
We'll await our finish
of clear-pane joy
Witness our first night
with eyes of glass
we'll know we're now safe
embraced by walls
A loving home
So we're told
taught we were
so astute our shamans
But of late
outside grows dark with
sightless of mind
blindness of heart
perhaps rendering void
any call for
we windows of the walls
We'll be but shattered shards
There may be no outside anymore
think they said...
Guess we'll have to wait
that's what we're for...
we windows of the wall
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|Reviewed by Ronald Hull
|Deep thoughts here. I keep thinking of Pink Floyd. And the New York skyline with everyone there, like you, in housing that looks out on more housing unless you are fortunate to live on Central Park.
I also sensed a foreboding about the future of our planet as we look out of our houses of protection. When the outside goes, our safe inside goes along with it. However, cities like New York City and Rome somehow beat the odds and exist long after the supporting countryside can no longer support them.
|Reviewed by Kate Clifford
|If walls could talk......seems you have heard them :-) But there is more then one thought of the future...........Some say that when man reachs for the button a proof of life beyond the earth will materalize to prevent such a mistake.........Mine? Is basically the sheep see the end ...............leaders of the future only see a new world but the vision is only now being planted.
|Reviewed by Diana Legun (Reader)
|The view, the point-of-view, the seeing and the to-be-seen -- what a vision! A hopeful view through the looking glass. I like the anxiousness of the framed windows at the hardware; like a guide dog for the blind awaits her job. Effective middle section that alludes to 'windows are ripe for breaking.' Readers' viisual dimming happens with the outside growing dark from "sightless of mind" and lessness of heart, creating no need and nothing to see anymore. You present the package of 'window' so well......as eyes themselves, providing eyes inside looking out and eyes outside looking in. Love it. ~~ Diana|
|Reviewed by Lily of Lough Neagh C. Dennis-Woosley
|John rather covered my same thoughts
But we can be a window for many Odin
not only for ourselves but for others
time will weather us, but if our glass
is cleaned and cared for we go on to
bring great pleasure for others so
they can view many wonderful things
Through all our trials and tribulations
You write so well in metaphor and other styles
Love and Light
|Reviewed by John Flanagan
|a sharp ironic eye looks
at the present condition and finds it...
less than pleasing without being overly
judgmental or a boring preachy pain in the arse;
you have poetic class, Odin
|Reviewed by Jerry Bolton
|You are so right.These days it isn't just the BIG powers that have the insidious damn things. The world is poised for destruction, or at least reduced to something we don't recognize.|