Ambition's Taw
by Odin odin@aflx.com — Read all 3,869 poems by Odin odin@aflx.com
People have been playing marbles and marble-like games for thousands of years. It is thought that marbles started with the cave-people playing with small pebbles or balls of natural clay. Clay balls have been found in the tombs of Egypt, they have also been found in Native American burial grounds. They have also been discovered in the ancient Aztec pyramids. In recent history, boys (and tomboys) used to play marbles in the vacant lots of the world. Circles drawn in the dirt around mibs (targeted marbles) in the center became the primary focus of every day’s awakening. Players anxiously awaited their turn to step up to the circle, curl a “taw” (sometimes called the shooter) between their fingers, take aim, and try to take all the marbles. Sadly goes the Terrorist's version of the game in continuum. (Photo by Gary Gay)
Saturday, February 15, 2014
Ambition's Taw
by Odin Roark
Skipping worn Keds beneath laughter
yesterday's jettisoned leaves
soon to become IED shrapnel
our ingrained images born of
eyes afire with anticipation
peering at the unknown
seeing where horizons fall endlessly
like sunlight chasing the night
Our fist full of marbles
security for the journey
seeking challenging games
in daddy's adult world
Playground lessons
mibs in the circle of growing up
colors changing
translucent some
opaque others
steelies the prize
all for the taking
aim your taw
Rules for the game
from sandlot
to asphalt alleys
to the potholes and trenches of battlefields
remain the same
save the cost of the game
Taws perfected early on
by classroom
schoolyard
graduation
and boot camp
Rolling the taw between life's fingers
Sharpening instincts for the game
Sometimes we rest
staring at ceilings
beneath shelters from fear
or gilded maxima of temporary joy
Yet
Our eyes
remain unfulfilled like dry beds of earth
awaiting the rain
gazing skyward for answers
The pockets of marbles
now replaced by dusty rocks
or
ammo clips
or
green hundreds
or for some
The bent fingers clinched about
their own casket handles
Beware the misguided fingers
poised ready about the stock
The trigger
The taw
Picking mibs
Ron
budd