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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

· Slippery Banana Peel

· Noiseless Thunder

· We Sometimes Weep

· Happiness Is...

· Maybe Tomorrow Night?

· MIrror, Mirror...

· Projectiles In A Cup

· Revisiting Culture Rot

· Enigmas

· Walking Meditation

         More poetry...

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Books by Odin Roark
  Coulda Shoulda Woulda
by Odin Roark
Tuesday, March 06, 2012
Rated "PG" by the Author.

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Recent poems by Odin Roark
•  Slippery Banana Peel
•  Noiseless Thunder
•  We Sometimes Weep
•  Happiness Is...
•  Maybe Tomorrow Night?
           >> View all 1,113

Surviving myself while growing up seems forever an endless feast of lessons, both enlightening and painful. The menu can be daunting at times.

Coulda Shoulda Woulda


I passed a man on his bike
pulling the cart where sat the mongrels
his sign flapping in the wind
its strings about to break
faded letters imploring
I'm broke and in the dog house
his smile belying the flat tires
carrying him past my eyes
that shoulda seen enough to stop
I had two dollars fully inflated

I walked til the tall grass moved
the mouse was frozen
the cat waited body slung low
the moment near
I shoulda clapped
a simple yell would do
but I ignored the life once running
now only a final gasp as tail disappears beneath whiskers

I stood at checkout
my basket rainbowed by fruit and wine
my impatience waned
as she wept and left
her credit over used
her groceries restocked
I coulda reached
I didn't need the wine

Tomorrow I'll wake
let beads of water wash away the
towel myself dry
note another hair in the sink
squeeze shut my eyes
and don yet another day of cloth adorned nakedness

Later I'll walk
hoping once again for wouldas
as my fingers roll
fuz balls deep in my pockets
til I fill them once more
with surviving myself


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Reviewed by Jerry Bolton 3/6/2012
We can't save the world, even one person or mouse at a time, man.
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