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Odin Roark

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· Perceptions


· Prosetry at Work

· Said and Unsaid - Vol 1


Short Stories
· Pockets

· Poetic Injustice

· Letter To Friends

· Cave Cracks

· Bubble Choices

· Surreal Dummy--Still Here

· IT

· Faux Companion

· Take Me, I'm Free (Flash Fiction)

· Beer Neck Flower

· Kant's Effore To Resolve Hume's Epistemological Skepticism

· Discipline of the artist

· The Dogs of Sochi

· A Crow With Super Smarts

· Targets Be Warned

· Simple Times (an observation)

· Cavemen in Tuxedos (an editorial)

· Ghost Town Ghosts

· Note to Self

· Essay on Poetic Theory

· To Be Unrealized

· Stitch-By-The-Numbers

· Future Voice Silenced

· Desperation Calling Out

· Duped By The Present

· Strikingly Naked

· Slippery Banana Peel

· Noiseless Thunder

· We Sometimes Weep

· Happiness Is...

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Books by Odin Roark
by Odin Roark
Sunday, September 02, 2012
Rated "PG13" by the Author.

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Recent poems by Odin Roark
•  To Be Unrealized
•  Stitch-By-The-Numbers
•  Future Voice Silenced
•  Desperation Calling Out
•  Duped By The Present
           >> View all 1,119

Nothing like a Holiday weekend to jog your childhood memories and their continually changing perspectives.



As morning fills with bacon smells
the eggs patiently waiting
the splattered grease staking out its zone
my dreams awake
my eyes pop open
today is special

Dad knows atop his shoulders I'll straddle
'til I don't
'til his neck goes tweek
then it's stroller time
the tandem pull-behind
my "to infinity and beyond"

The world knows this hand-me-down stroller's no thing to prize
this rusty scourge of Nature's norm
the sounds ill fit for man
or beast
always needs oil
these wheels long on life-support

But rust on rust
they need not hear
for like the horns from 10th Ave canyons
blaring up and past my window sealed
progress needs little reminding
that aches and pains
are but life's norm disrupted
known as noise of sorts
breaking Nature's calm of sorts
noise being noise of sorts

My bars
their bars
growls sometimes friendly
sometimes not
tweeted song
bellowed song
bringing such laughter
bringing such tears

But back to task at hand
the wheels they do shout

Til Dad's steady hand
drip drip






Sca sa



A  sa







Little 3 in 1
so little for so much
he loves to say

Quietly we roll
into a subway car loud
silent smiles say it all
the Bronx Zoo looms ahead

That place where imprisoned people
peer in
as other caged creatures
peer out
across their motes
beyond their fenced world
scratching heads and asses
they gaze stupefied

Mom and Dad whisper




Yes it is
nod all

Yes it is
thought I
so long ago


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Reviewed by m j hollingshead 6/2/2014

well done

Reviewed by Morgan Merriweather 9/3/2012
This weekend, out of all the weekends, does stick out as one where, as a child, we always did the same thing. Fond memories none the less. Memory jogging write Odin!
Reviewed by richard cederberg 9/3/2012
"Til Dad's steady hand" The subtext here of love and comfort is palpable for me. My mother was this way. Nurturing and steady. My father chastised me with willow switches and belts and boards. I still get teary, though, when I look at old family photo albums and try to remember what good there was. Strong sentiment here, Odisan. peace ...
Reviewed by JASMIN HORST SEILER 9/3/2012
Wow, the parallels you bring together in such fashion, like love, as like oil,on a rusty wheel, that's the way I read it all around, and around, and........
Reviewed by Budd Nelson 9/2/2012
wonderful memories to revel in Odin
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton 9/2/2012
3 in 1 was the thing in yesteryear, you got that right, Odin. I think WD-40 has replaced it. My aunt swore WD-40 could cure cancer. Even as a kid and was lucky enough to go to the zoo in some faraway town I always felt back for the great apes, the lions, tigers, et al, because their eyes penetrated mine and even as young as I was I understood the feeling behind their gazes . . . I want to be out of here. Don't get me wrong, I loved going to the zoo, but the eyes, the penetrating eyes always put a cloud over the day.
Reviewed by Ronald Hull 9/2/2012
OMG! You remember riding in a stroller! My first memory was the talking crow in a Chicago zoo. There were no moats, only ugly steel cages where we could feed the inmates any junk food we wanted. They all looked sick compared to the farm and wild animals we saw in the country. City noise we didn't have. Though I don't remember living by a highway as too noisy--unlike living by a railroad track.

Big family picnics in uncrowded places were our thing. A chance to play, and learn bad stuff, with our cousins--many, and eat a lot of good food to run off. Those were the days.

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