An Ode to Odes
A Poem
Who writes an ode to odes?
Who dares to be so bold?
Or is it all just a load
A pile of…
Okay just wrap it up
It’s too dumb
Yes
But it’s oh so much fun
Sure, sure
But that’s so uncreative
You’re so much better than that
Am I though?
What else am I supposed to do?
Nothing is coming with this challenge
Write the list
You know?
The one you’ve put off for an hour
What are you? A coward?
No, just easily distracted from a more serious task
Why do you ask?
Because you came here to focus
Writing isn’t some hocus pocus
Besides, this isn’t even an ode
This can’t be sung
But an ode to odes
Would be so much fun
If it could actually be done
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I can't imagine dying like this, in a place like this; on a cold, dirty pavement with rush hour traffic screaming by and a crowd looking on while paramedics struggle to find space to move. Who could? Deep down we all think there should be a reason, a moment of clarity... or a family presence, at least. For this man, this boy, the rail thin woman lighting a cigarette in a faux fur jacket will have to do - she's been here since the start, her eyes tracking the movement of my shoulders as we fight to keep him on the right side of the line.
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Comments (1)
I like it. I really like it. And sure, you could sing it. Perhaps not strophically, but you most certainly could put a tune to it even if it's through-composed.