A Poem by odinroark


Author: odinroark
Created: March 18, 2017 at 02:15 pm
Upload Type: Poem, G (All)  
Category: General/Other | Free Verse | General/Other
Upload Stats: 4 Stars by 1 users with 1 comments and 49 views

Reflections  

 



Reflections
by Odin Roark

He and his cat
sit upon old wooden chairs
peering vacantly out the ocean house window.

They stare together
as the mirrored images press on,
cloning the reality of isolation.

The bookshelves behind him,
empty.
Kitchen cabinets,
empty.
His heart,
empty.

Beyond the window,
high to the right,
encroaching weather gathers.
To the left,
escaping sun hovers below cloud cover,
slowly giving room for the sky’s darkness.

Another guest joins man and cat;
a rather large roach perched on the window sill,
eying the storm,
eying the cat.

Soon…

Night’s cover will erase the perceptions,
returning his mirrored picture,
delivering his room’s embrace
to the dark cell of his mind,
where bars are ever present.

Today…

Weathering choruses precede the night,
its rain quickly turning to flurries,
to carpeting flakes,
to frozen sentiments,
to memories of what once was.

Feeding his hunger pangs are:
Ice crystal flakes and laughter salad.
Alarm clock soup.
Plucked innocence under glass.
Delicate crusted soufflé of aloneness.
Fricassee of conscience forever steaming hot.
Wine of repentance patiently breathing,
readying absolution for some worthy day.

The tenacious roach,
history’s elder statesman,
a testimony of nature’s perseverance,
remains stoic,
probably anticipating its offspring in the next century…
cat willing.

And the man?
His feline?
They continue petting and purring.

He smiles at the cat.
“You know, Chloe, being alive isn’t so bad, really.”
He holds steady the window pane’s honesty,
reminding himself once again that
reflections know not lying.


© odinroark - all rights reserved

Author Notes


Aloneness always has imagination as company. (Image by pinterest)


 
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Comments & Reviews ( X 2)



RamSlade
March 18, 2017
Helpful? Thumbs UpThumbs Down
Creative . . .
Last line is, of course the kicker . . . Poeish in nature in this very telling verse . . .

"You know, Chloe, being alive isnít so bad, really.Ē
He holds steady the window paneís honesty,
reminding himself once again that
reflections know not lying."

No, reflections do not lie, but the man looking at it sometimes looks past it into a lying presence because he cannot face truth, but finds instead a lying, smiling face to put him at ease. Sad, but it does happen to those of weak thoughts. Spotlight!











1


applaudapplaud


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