Saturday, September 20, 2014



                       Merlin


He sits by a river under some elms
on green moss throwing speckled stones
or   if you choose   he can rattle some bones
in a magical cloth and read them

he can work with playing cards
or with the palm of your hand
even throw cowries into the sand
but he dislikes working with entrails

picture him wearing his conical hat
its comical pattern of three pointed stars
if you look deep in his eyes
you’ll see galaxies spiraling away

his morning customers are cuckolded drones
there’s no harm in change he charges them
but he lightens their load by throwing the stones
lady love is a dangerous mistress   

he sits by a river and the breezes that blow
are counting the fingers of oak leaves
lost in love’s labyrinth they go to see him
he shows them out   soothes their pride   their peeves

although he’s an expert on species
on herbs    flowers    quaint remedies
he never has understood romance
he’s always found love un-mathematical

when young scoundrels come in the evening
he’s getting tired   he’s had quite enough    love   
he tells them bluntly    deals low blows   sudden 
surprises comeuppances such as yours

he sits on a hillside under a moon
priapic staff pointing out its crescent
preferring to commune alone with stars
than shudder in solitary public bars

when owls glide by on noiseless wings
he takes off his cloak    launches up by stealth
into the sky to mingle with breezes   
as night sails on towards winter's wheezes

he exists out there in a spacious void
together with other life that has passed
in a miasmal-like colloid state
Merlin could tell us could we but ask


Copyright ©  Dick Russell 2014
(a different version published in
Chapman Vol III. No 4: Dick Russell issue, 
Editors: Walter Perrie, Joy Hendry, R. R. Calder
1975)

Tuesday, August 26, 2014



             A man a woman once      


            Venus overhead
             traversing Mumbai’s Marine Drive
            Thames Embankment

       arm-in-arm
             crossing pools of lamp light
                     electricity connects them
         
            vanishing from sight
            two people he and she
            transiting two planets




                   © Dick Russell, 2015

Tuesday, July 29, 2014


                 December


across an icy wooden bridge
seeded by floating frozen leaves
a stream’s dark waters
slowly freezing

green wood delivered
stacked in spring
her hair tied by a scarf
like day-split alder

       no need for firewood now
         but ritual demands a holly bough
         her hair elegant like silver birch
         a grandchild has that scarf
        
while all about him wild birds warned
even the fledgling robin they had raised
too cold to snow unseasonably chill
a man whose axe will cleave a tree



copyright © Dick Russell 2014

Monday, May 26, 2014


         The Wizard

                    for Robert Russell Calder


if rhymes were grappling hooks & his life hung
by a thread he would throw a rhyme that chimed
with a plane passing overhead   loop around
a weather vane   haul himself to safety
       with a perfectly timed swing to a rooftop
       like a beltless Tarzan impressing Jane
       dressed in a python skin his bare hands killed
       for only he’d been brave enough and skilled

can words cause impact   rhymes renew   strike chimes
that ring through time   can words heal damage
coarse sentences wrought or even suture wounds
can words save lives   magic make   alter moods  
they can     declaimed by wizards in disguise
making music from even plangent cries




 copyright  ©  Dick Russell, 2014

Saturday, May 17, 2014


                       Sail Far North

        For Farley Mowat


I want to sail far north
where Vikings once were seen
rowing long ships
through Arctic seas

I want to sail into summer
until those days when sun stood still
then go farther on when days were waning
knowing each day risked more
of over wintering
never returning

deadly for some
who turned back too late
dangerous for us
we who went on
past midsummer's day

lucky we found a river
teeming with fish
so we'd survive if we gave time
for our lives depended
we hunt and fish
make provision 
to overwinter

between knowing and unknowing
sheltered under an upturned boat
how many months could we count
when days are dark
no way to count hours
when time stops still

what warmth would we have
with a wall of stones beneath our boat
what oil could we burn
assuming we could light it
when there was only moonlight
stars wheeling above

clear nights in winter
a blazing moon   bright stars
showing far horizons  fabulous places
where giant snow dragons
played in moonlight

I want to sail far north
to those far off days
when all those fabled places
had other names



copyright © Dick Russell 2014


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