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More Odes, Stepping on Toes

by Hakon Revheim

146 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #04-0315; ISBN 1-4120-2487-0; US$17.50, C$19.50, EUR13.50, £9.50

The master spoke in parables, that the masses might understand, the author speaks in odes, that those willing, might see!

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About the Book      About the Author      Excerpts      Catalogue Information

About the Book

A Christian man's handbook! Tis the rebirth of the ode! Not since John Newton and Pindar have so many odes been written! A Christian poet with an inspiring and sometimes humorous message!

The master spoke in parables the author speaks in odes. Stepping on the toes of those who need their toes stepped on! Small town, Stockton flavor, but continues in rhetoric and musings that engulfs the whole world!

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About the Author

Hakon Revheim was born in Savanna, Illinois on February 27, 1949, above the mighty Mississippi. Stone mason and author, this is Hakon's third book.

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Excerpts

Introduction

'Tis no way to write a book. One finger, hunt and peck. It takes too long. Tis those adept and able people who type accurately and quickly - they are ten fingers strong.

Can you imagine how long it would have taken J.K. Rowling to write Harry Potter with one finger, hunting and pecking? The anxious masses would never have stood for such. Her typing is superb and fast. High tech.

Oh, the one finger, hunt and peck! The slowness of my typing exemplifies my style. Lean back in your easy chair and relax with my musings. Abide in me awhile.

Hakon Revheim

Ode to the Small, Square Bales of Hay, Lying in the Field

This ode is to the small, square bales of hay,
lying askew in the field. I look at them and my
mind begins to run. I see a battlefield and the
dead bodies lie scattered and silent. Their lives are done.

The battle has just ended. The smoke still rises
and the lifeless bodies are still warm. They lie in
an unnatural way, lacking movement, lacking form.

Oh, the small square bales of hay! I love to see
them lying in the field as I go by. Perhaps, it's
best they are only bales of hay, aching to enter
the barn, and, not the things within me lie.

This ode is to the small, square bales of hay
laying in the field. I look at them and my mind
begins to run.

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Catalogue Information

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