Thursday, September 12, 2024

The Call of the Tribe



Donal felt the call of the tribe
scriveners for the rich
scribes for the poor
a tribe that felt the color of words
like Freedom

the color of Freedom
is a palette of color
while Tyranny
is like linen besmirched
by shadowy stains unwashable
residues of rainbows
festooned with gaudy
graffiti

Freedom Tyranny
and in between
Donal felt the stir of the tribe
rising for freedom aware of threat
all people of good will
all neighbors together

heeding a voice 
giving voice 
trusting a leader 
Donal felt the call of the tribe
chose freedom




Dick Russell © Richard M Russell
                     2024

Monday, September 9, 2024

 The Hummingbird

dusk one evening a hummingbird flew
through the open door of the bathhouse next
to a fuchsia basket that hung there

only to be trapped flying towards sky 
but hitting plastic recycled skylights
in the peaked roof 

steamy air rising from the bath
an easy escape the bird could not find
buzzing like a fly to find open sky

frustrated and tired the tiny bird perched 
over the old iron clawfoot bathtub
my wife standing on the rim could reach it

she was surprised she said the bird let her
enfold it in her hand and release it
into warm evening air our garden




Dick Russell © Richard M Russell
                         2024

Thursday, September 5, 2024

Ode: To Defiance



When I stand at last on the brink of death
who will I see waiting on the further shore?
Will I see among those that passed before
some enemy’s arms crossed and an air of menace
others with open arms ready for an embrace?
With some I fought with some shared breath.

Will some poets I’ve read be there, Berryman maybe?
Will I see him wandering among trees with Sylvia
deep in thought contemplating suicide?
Beyond this death is there another they could choose
go where ghosts go and be flotsam and jetsam
erased on the beach by a rising tide?

I will not stand upon the brink of death
I’ll swim rather than look into Charon’s eye
for mythic streams are just wading pools for me
where history lingers on its way to the sea.
And if I reach the further bank I’ll see
what my future intends for me.




Dick Russell © Richard M. Russell
                    2024

Friday, August 30, 2024

Bathhouse



through a bathhouse window beautiful still
stood a statue always tranquil 
yet weathered by many winters
a fountain pouring cold water 
from a pipe into a cascade of bowls
while in hot water steaming up windows
so that she could not be seen I bathed
though I see her always at the portal
where my mind slips by her into new worlds
not seen through glass but with my inner eye
but in this moment lying here measuring time
by the slant of sunlight across the skylight
as sunset trending west comes earlier 
bleaching oiled strips that hold up the glass
showing by angle the reach of the sun
about a third of the cedar casing
lighter than the rest and understanding
why the bathhouse was built purposefully
facing north its two skylights catching the sun



Dick Russell (C) Richard M Russell
                          2024

Saturday, August 24, 2024

 Thinking of Dead Poets
 

imagery as if brand new
Li Po staggering forward
moon for his candle 
stars watching him stumble
where the muse takes him 
where she took them all
towards a moon shining in a puddle
or a river where he drowned
rushing to embrace her
his maddening muse
 
in love again waking
when first birds sing 
feeling young again   supple
after years of sloth
looking for clarity 
in fading light
  
 

Dick Russell
copyright © 2024
Richard M Russell

Words Offered to AI                            For Jorie Graham A Work in Progress 55 italic words on thin almost transparent onion skin pap...