Odin Roark, click here
to update your web pages on AuthorsDen.
If gathering the tools of language and expression were only as easy as fishing a well-stocked deep water lake.
Casting in the Dark
Doesn't take much
To set up an angler
Of the language kind
Hooks ready for thoughts
Lures made of the heart
Pencil rod of wood and graphite
Poised above fathom deep paper
Casts skyward to the stars
Opting to stretch capacity's sense of daring
Seeking a strike beyond the void
The mind's tensile strength
Put to the test
Watching hope's hook and bait disappear
Into the darkness of discovery
Patience gathers a like audience as well
Spider in the its web pauses to stare
House fly extraordinaire
Curiously suspends endless missions into hostile shadows
Choosing instead to rest beside my waiting game
We wait for the bite
A tiny nibble will do
We all know
Beneath reflections of the abyss
Not yet ready to toy with a hook's patience
Lives challenging opportunity
Teasers of the lure
A school of multi-syllabic meaning
Words once but minnow-like letters
Now glittering tandem reflections of mystery
Birth to maturation
Not yet ready to bestow lessons of the catch
School after school
Mocking our feeble attempts
Determined as we are
We gaze in wonder
At a spider's seeming blasé confidence
Fearing neither shadow or light
As the future catch lifts off
And taunts fate's simplest web
Just a little bit longer
Is it foolish
Ready to reel in
Recast our mind's determination
Our heart's hope
And explore even deeper labyrinths
Where rewards might still await?
Want to review or comment on this
Click here to login!
Need a FREE Reader Membership?
Click here for your Membership!
|Reviewed by Ronald Hull
|Allegorically speaking, looks like a nice time fishing for words in the sea of ideas. Enjoyed.
|Reviewed by Mr. Ed
|As one who once lived to fish, I found this writing piece to be extremely captivating.|
|Reviewed by Bennett Kremen
|I've been casting in the dark for decades. And I never take for
granted that I'm going to catch anything and always am surprised
when I do. What strange place in the mind really offers true
literary catches is beyond me and fills me with wonder. Your poem makes me consider that and I'm grateful.
|Reviewed by richard cederberg
|We frequent a place in the Eastern Sierras called Silver Lake Lodge. It's an awesome topography. Oh god ... it melts me. Silver Lake is a great mysterious place to fish and recreate too. Many varying depths and possibilities. They say there are some really reclusive trout there that tip the scale at 22 pounds. Damn!
They have a children's lake there, too, where they teach those interested, in the sport, to fish. Watching them is so memorable. There are every conceivable trout, (hundreds of them) - 2 to 4 pounds - that just lollygag around the shoreline waiting to be caught. When a line is cast a fish bites within a minute. Us old timers should be so lucky. Like poetry, and so many so-called readers, trolling is easy and attracts all the lazy swimmers looking for easy food. Good subtext here - I relate! Peace...