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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

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Cobblestone Echoes

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

As much as modern living often times enhances for the better, what price “the real thing” left behind, forgotten, save for the few refusing to become deaf?

Monday, November 11, 2013


Poem Artwork
Cobblestone Echoes
by Odin Roark

Ancient stone
keeper of darkness
of auras reaped from high seas
vast is your harvest
from earth rumblings beset by molten tears
to charred obsidian made hard
glass reflecting where primates once clamored upon

From paws a running
sniffed calloused drippings in peril
where sandal swathed footsteps
dodged blade and spear
as wash water dumped from high
added slippery footing for predators ever lustful
ever hungry
ever historic

Now the high noon of modern life
the wonder among your melodies
amidst recent fabrications emulating your path
you the wrinkled skin spirit of ancient masons
who served sun-baked feasts
from the past of pasts

Alas…

Genuine micro-canyons of irrigated seed and drift
send the spirits aloft from once grasses high
reminding us that while calendars may crumble
time’s enduring stone of old remains original
transcending the language of vowel and consonant
acknowledging the reach of sentient eye to eye
the whispered caress beneath a Nike sole
sharing the tongues of old
echoing the murmurs of weary travelers
the severed limbs of warriors
the rivers of plasma-red passion
polishing fossils within
within
within

Yet many choose faking Nature’s setting
even making ready counterfeit copies
to pacify the blind living without preference
massaging serpentine monsters of ignorance
whose Gucci laced feet now prance upon this facsimile
sold as make-believe
glittering’s bondage
hidden in fakery
having not a clue of the Carthaginians
or Mediterranean isles of blood and sweat
from whence it all came

For like Rodeo Drive’s cobblestone plazas
where modern celebrity prisons of today
masquerade as credible reality for borrowed tomorrows
knockoff décor identity everlasting
unaware their own history
reaches inevitable fade out
may never know the hidden messages

Perhaps…

The subtle cacophony of shadow and whisper
cobblestone’s enigmatic infernal
made orchestral for those who can hear
those who dare see through the darkness
those who can be moved and touched by
shadowed silence protected with truth
will experience the magic

How few seem to hear the deafening message
  


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Reviewed by Tao Chi
Reviewed on November 13, 2013
Loud and clear but still unheard and unseen. The majority love their superficial, materialistic lives. When they speak, it's not worth listening too, meaningless noise. No matter how loud you say it, they will never hear the message. Echoes of the past don't matter to them.

Reviewed by Michael True
Reviewed on November 12, 2013
A curious jog through time and space. What once was assumed as safe passage now the road to perdition? Would suggest the road less traveled by... M.True

Reviewed by Ronald Hull
Reviewed on November 12, 2013
I remember the brick streets of Morgantown, West Virginia. The brick streets of my hometown, Marshfield Wisconsin, had long been torn up along with the trolley tracks down the middle of the street in favor of concrete and blacktop.

But the stone streets you speak of go much further back to the laying of stones by primitive people across muddy stretches so that they could walk without stepping in water or mud. Still there are echoes of horses hooves on cobblestone streets.

As for fakery, we now want granite countertops for what? So that we can return to the Stone Age? No siree for me, I'll stick with my 30-year-old Formica countertops that show no signs of wear and are still easy to clean.

Ron

Reviewed by Mr. Ed
Reviewed on November 12, 2013
How few, indeed. A most powerful piece.


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