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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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Paradise de Nova
By Odin odin@aflx.com
Last edited: Thursday, March 24, 2016
This short story is rated "G" by the Author.
       
Recent stories by Odin odin@aflx.com
· Patience Waning
· Ladle Lines (A prosetry memory)
· A Gentle Man
· Pacing Love's Journey
· Gratitude
· A Sticky Conversation
           >> View all 367
In New York, I’ve often passed what appears at a distance to be nothing but the downtrodden. On closer examination, I frequently found many wearing a smile on their face. Such occasion reminded me that regardless of age or economic status, imagination can help keep a person secure and comfortable, even for some, wealthy in their own way. Freedom lives in many forms. For many, to ignite one’s own, it only requires the innocence of youth (which most keep buried) and of course, a bit of humility. Such is the basis for this flash fictional exploration of reality’s many guises. (Image by Miro-Carnival)

Paradise de Nova
by Odin Roark

Yesterday…

Crossing over from here to there
became a bridge ceasing to be,
a day’s experience becoming
open currents sweeping out to sea.

Tonight…

Heavy eyelids finally succumbed to fluttering,
becoming rain drizzles of thought,
cascading into a torrential downpour,
directionless tributaries,
becoming at times a challenging river to forge,
slippery footholds wanting only
to make purchase on secure pathways
leading to mind''s quieter listening banks.

Night continued…

Refracting waters afforded
interludes of respite
before dreams sped downstream,
submerging with nocturnal weight
into awaiting archives,
retrieval in the future.

As daybreak approached…

Fathom-deep consciousness,
clamored to the surface,
opened lead-heavy eyes,
returning him to his bench.

Staring skyward,
he adjusted his overcoat blanket,
noticed the resident pigeon taking note,
and reached into his shopping-cart treasure,
retrieving the saved half of yesterday’s found bagel.

Sharing it with his feathered friend,
he grinned. “You’re smile, Mr. Pigeon,
is almost as good as mine, but not quite.”
He took a bite, chewing patiently to make it last.
“After all, you might be able to fly,
but," he taps his head, "You can’t go where I go. And no travel required.”

His smile broadened as he looked out across the park lake.
“Know what I mean?”
     

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Reviewed on May 16, 2016
Would you really want to trade lives with anyone? Imagination is sanity.

Reviewed by Ronald Hull
Reviewed on March 25, 2016
This story is similar to your poems. You might call it, "A day and a night of…" Jerry Bolton firmly believes that most people on the street, "want to be there." I'm not so sure about that. I think there are two reasons why people are on the street. The first is economic. Those people generally try hard to get off the street in any way they can. The second is mental. The few people that I encountered on the street tended to have some mental condition, often rather mild, like being addicted to wine, where the street seem to suit their lifestyle and no amount of persuasion could get them to leave the mean streets for a more secure and healthful environment.

Ron

Reviewed by Richard Cederberg
Reviewed on March 25, 2016
I, too, am thankful each day for the gift of imagination. Have been my whole life. Imagination, and expression give living a beautiful fragrance. Words are things and a small drop of ink falling like dew upon a thought produces that which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think. Peace... r

Reviewed by John Herlihy
Reviewed on March 24, 2016
Full of fine images that we have come to expect from the master wordsmith. I especially like the ending. Yes, I do know what you mean.
John

Reviewed by E Phillips
Reviewed on March 24, 2016
Clearly this is one of your favorite subjects, and you delve into it with great sensitivity and compassion. This is as beautiful an exposure of the human soul that this reader is likely to ever find. Another stunning composition.