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Oil and grease. The why of a poetic child’s denial that a father’s departure was death, knowing...
Grease Monkey Rainbows
by Odin Roark
How colorfully the reflective smears ignited the senses.
How sinuous the undulating slick remained forever permanent,
its unintentional abstracts made prescient.
Dank syrup of engines idle,
spilled upon aged concrete
where the mechanic beneath rusted warriors
drained yesterday's tensile stress,
fresh loading tomorrow's fluid to live.
How focused his oily footprints remain,
now aloft riding the escort of Valhalla,
gliding upon colors of other-world palettes,
yet remaining forever heroic,
in a little boy’s perpetual memory.
Yesteryear’s ever present ether continues embracing,
bestowing a blinding courage for the senses to endure,
even as the buried vestige remain dark.
The smell revered.
The smooth touch esteemed.
The unbridled colors forever a reminder of love.
still rippling in this man-child’s quiet ebb.
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|Reviewed by Ronald Hull
|This all seems so personal, like it is to those two writers below. To conjure up such grease monkey dreams one must have experienced the reality.
Touching and wonderful. Great wordsmithing.
|Reviewed by Mary Ann Biddinger
Colorful the diesel rainbows..of my father's passing 34 years ago
today. Touching the memories held dear you have written a beautiful
poem in the quiet ebb knowing.
Lady Mary Ann
|Reviewed by Eileen Granfors
|I wish I could share this poem with my father. He lived for weekends when he could tinker with engines and oil. You amaze me by making the ordinary extraordinary. "Diesel rainbows" a phrase I won't forget.