Sunday, May 26, 2013


Black & White Raga



As the game begins

Queens dominate their own color squares

white and black Queens opposed on the d file

tension builds as they contend the center
then white pawns slip into position
encroach on black squares
black Queen moves to a white square but it is too late
white has taken hold of the game

our opponents
playing games of increasing complexity
weighing advantage   disadvantage
terror   lesser terror
right & wrong

unlike chess masters they cannot see far ahead
but like chess masters they delight 
                      in defining equality
qualified    of course    by who's next to move

& sometimes they move surreptitiously  like pawns
or savagely like rooks
stately like Kings

they are renowned for never exposing Queens to  early attack
guarding the center
developing strong points
minimizing weaknesses

in between two games
one hand reaching
hesitant to move

because that move
restricts subsequent choice
there is no going back
especially for pawns

when pieces encounter conflict
they can move away

pawns must stay and fight

meanwhile musicians play a cyber raga

                 DO WHILE misunderstood

                 PERFORM UNTIL, Black = White

in between two songs
one hand on a taut drum
damping percussive effects of crowd
the other on cymbals

needing silence again they play
weaving meaning
on a thousand line octave


© Dick Russell, 2016

Thursday, May 9, 2013


      St James' Bell



      St. James' bell    St. James' bell
      it isn't named in London's rhymes
      but I'll not return to Camberwell
      now St. James' bell no longer chimes

      St. James' bell    St. James' bell
      he rang it often when a boy
      before singing hymns    and singing well
      in St. James' choir they sang for joy

      jubilantly they played in Myatt's Fields
      its Easter flowerbeds ablaze
      with tulips, daffodils
      sparks of spring that pierced dazed

      bomb battered London
               they sang for joy
      though some were fatherless, iron
      in their hearts    a chill alloy

      that belled pure notes in spring
      when sudden gusts shook dust from trees
      drab Londoners changed their skins
      donned country airs    shelled new peas

      but where they sang none sing there now
      St. James' choir    St. James' bell
      both made redundant    silent now
      except my memory hears this knell

      St. James' bell    St. James' bell
      it isn't named in London's rhymes
      but I'll not return to Camberwell
      now St. James' bell no longer chimes


      © Dick Russell, 2013



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