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Odin odin@aflx.com

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Books
· Perceptions

· ECHOSIS

· Prosetry at Work

· Said and Unsaid - Vol 1

· 3 WAY MIRROR


Short Stories
· Patience Waning

· Ladle Lines (A prosetry memory)

· A Gentle Man

· Pacing Love's Journey

· Gratitude

· A Sticky Conversation

· Blazing Now and Then

· Vulnerable Captivity

· The Kite That Would Not Bow

· Time


Articles
· War and Peace

· Desperation Breeds Desperation

· Preference Manifest

· Innocent Guilt

· Barbed Isolation

· A Place...

· Sanity's Loss

· Organs Anonymous

· Fatuous Beyond Absurdity

· Truth is One


Poetry
· The Life-long Pernicious Evil

· Cherishing Sounds of Silence

· Understanding the Unexplainable

· Reality of Another Kind

· Finding Trust Again

· Aromalicious Memories

· A Jungle-rain Pastorale

· Sediment Within the Soul

· Life's Enormous Green Chest

· Roadkill Memoriam

         More poetry...

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Mind's Musculature Handicap

by Odin odin@aflx.com — Read all 3,869 poems by Odin odin@aflx.com

Will we ever get over the rush of emotional transience and welcome the brutal truth of rationalization? (Image by Christian Schloe)

Wednesday, November 4, 2015


Poem Artwork
Mind’s Musculature Handicap
by Odin Roark

What sweat this muscle doth release.

What effort the mind puts forth,
even as the heart’s sentiment
makes flaccid the strength available,
causing conditional acquiescence to
remain the winner of the prize.

Such a promising beginning,
parental praise on the first word,
teacher support for valedictorian,
relationship pride on first anniversary,
business promotion into the inevitable lateral arabesque,
rewarding incompetence with a longer title
guaranteeing mind’s musculature handicap pause to reflect,
rather than risk failure climbing another rung
of the other person’s ladder.

Suddenly…

The twirling mobile of one’s crib-time,
reveals the uniqueness of just being,
for honesty has finally released its breath
with giggles and coos connecting to today’s truth.

Gradually…

We accept who we are,
reveling in the adult’s world
of bruises, cuts and breakage
our over-protective mothers promised
we’d never need to confront,
for we were special.

Uh, huh.


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Reviewed by Richard Cederberg
Reviewed on November 6, 2015
We are all born with an impermanence that, at some point in our intellectual maturity, reminds, or (depending on ones philosophical mindset) suggests to us daily the inevitability of ending or dying. I believe that each of us is special. Fearfully and wonderfully made for a purpose that far too many of us never fully comprehend.

For some reason your thoughts here remind me of something Soren Kierkegaard proffered: "People commonly travel the world over to see rivers and mountains, new stars, garish birds, freak fish, grotesque breeds of human; they fall into an animal stupor that gapes at existence and they think they have seen something" That quote always made me chuckle because the truth of it is far-reaching.

Yes... I agree. "Gradually we accept who we are". But... accepting others for who they are remains a more perplexing challenge. Enjoyed the imagery, and message, in this. Peace to you...

Reviewed by Ronald Hull
Reviewed on November 5, 2015
Once again a brilliant poem revealing the truth of existence.

But one word struck a chord. As I was growing up and long into my adult years I thought of the word handicap referring to equalizing the odds in a sporting event like adding weight to horses so they all carry the same weight and adding score to bowling and golf scores to even the odds of play. The word also referred to any kind of infirmity that made someone different from what was considered, "normal."

And then one day in the early 1980s while attending a Barbara Jordan awards conference, I encountered a lady, much my senior in a homemade bed like wheelchair pushed by her husband. She was an activist and I wasn't, although I was interested in helping those that needed help. She told me not to use the word handicap because it meant, "cap in hand." I was shocked to realize the origin of the word and why she despised it, so demeaning to those with disabilities that were trying to get an equal footing in employment that I was enjoying because I passed so easily for, "normal."

While I still use the word, every time I do I'm reminded of her and of its origin… Standing on the corner with cap in hand, begging for money just to live.

Ron

Reviewed by Jansen Estrup
Reviewed on November 5, 2015
A biting rebuke, so apt. Why can't we seem to find some middle, sane ground between brutal sinner and promising angel? Some humanity. We seem always a generation too late, an understanding too lame. Probably that is where you are, Odin, trying to become Human. It is why you speak to clearly of the issues.


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