Author Archives

OdinsBard

Writer, author, Navy vet, musician, intermittent mystic, old soul and practicing poet

Pull Up A Chair

Nothingness
has a nice
ring to it
when drowning in
somethingness
but I suspect it
doesn’t ring or
do anything at all
You wouldn’t know
you were there
So pull up a chair
Write another poem
Nothingness
will catch you
soon enough
Unaware
Mid sentence
if you’re lucky

Maybe, Not Today

I ought to learn
another language
Maybe Hindi
or Indonesian
Farsi perhaps
Maybe I should commit
to learning
something
ANYTHING
beyond just survival
completely
Abandon my hermit lifestyle
Get out of this fucking house
Maybe
Perhaps
Probably not today

Faded

The old barn still stands
A weathered trawler sailing
on undulating waves of
fescue gone to seed
faded like the halcyon
halcyon summer days of
small family farms
Faded
like the
Mail Pouch Tobacco
sign once so bright
on its slatted sides
Faded
as the days I
ran and played
oblivious
to age

You Must

It is you who must care
for no one else will
Waiting for a congratulatory
hand on your shoulder
you’ll be waiting still
when the earth consumes
your abandoned frame
Hear me, artists!
Ye small gods of creation
Though none may approve
you must do what you do
and unburden your soul

Most Every Night

In my dreams I rage
a vicious
devouring
rage the enemy
right in my face and
I warn him seething
eyes ablaze that I will
snap his fucking neck
He retreats a pace but
won’t go away and
I awaken chest aching
from the strain
Pull the heating pad
over my heart
Try to breathe
most every night

Brazen

The grey squirrel is careful
in his approach but no
more than that
Not a surreptitious bone
in his lithe rodent body
hanging on the feeder
gorging on the bounty
intended for the finches
and their assorted friends
lined along the deck rail
helplessly

Lingering Cheer

The light caught the
lint trap just right
during laundry today
exposing a
tiny
shiny
glimmer
of days past
A glint
of
green glitter
A Christmas survivor
clinging to life in
a most unlikely place
I chuckled
Left it there
lingering cheer

At My Feet

I cried tonight
Unexpected
My eyes filled
with tears watching
black history
Me
Son of a bigot
mother and a
prejudiced father
Me
Who never bothered
thinking about color
one way or another
All the same to me
but that blood
That hateful history
is at my white feet
I am deeply sorry

Coffee War

I forged coffee in my
Chemex this afternoon
unapologetically
robust
Created so to act as
a buttress against
the merciless forces
of fatigue grinding
at my defenses
and reinforcements wait
in airtight Tupperware
for the scalding baptism
that will send them
pouring into the breach
but, alas,
the enemy has
reached my chamber