Wednesday, March 01, 2006

Of Humble

The railless train of dreams ploughs through my night.
It whistles and chugs and races out of sight
And I am left in the bed before dawn,
A set of muddy ruts with no memory,
A headache and the corrupt taste of forgotten sweets,
Listening to the last cluck of laughter,
Incomprehensibly hanging in the air
Of an empty room that once was the party in my sleeper.
We are faced with the river that loses its freedom
When it becomes a drink of water and
The rare air at the mountain’s frosty summit
Which becomes a tired sigh.
Things go from what they once were
And our forgetfulness is puzzled by their halos.

16 comments:

Aristocrat said...

Imaginary not! Haha..

Now why is this poesy called "Of Humble"? Because of the loss of things ,or rather freedom? I don't get a few bits, but I like

"We are faced with the river that looses (you mean loses?) its freedom/ When it becomes a drink of water"

Russell Ragsdale said...

Things seem a lot more pure when they are a part of some other natural activity such as a river or high air. That they can be part of us kind of awes me. We seem so polluted, as if we were apart from nature (except for dreams). As a being and a poet, failure seems our normal state so I am just trying to, as Andrew picked up on it (through a Beckett quote on another blog), fail better. It seems pointless for me to compare myself with you when I think of the personal nature of the statement to "fail better."

Nick Zegarac said...

Fantastically written. Lots of depth and fascination peppered throughout. I really enjoyed this piece.

Aurora said...

I like this one!

Pat Paulk said...

Maybe the rivers and mountain air look at us as pure? No, probably not. Yes I think we "fail better" than any other species! Good poem Russell!!

Aristocrat said...

Abstractness at its very core.

Perhaps what you meant by "failure seems our normal state" is the Lapsarian nature of our lives now? That we are all Sinners before God? Now I'm delving into Renaissance lol...

Lena said...

your poems are awesome =]

I hope that it'll be ok if i visit here again... ^^

Sue hardy-Dawson said...

I am having one of those days when I feel like that glass of water. Perhapse it is the fear of thirst or spillage that contains us and blockes off the exit to freedom

Russell Ragsdale said...

Hi Nick! Thanks for the wonderful comments. Glad you found that you could gnaw on something here and get more than a toothache. Thanks for visiting; come by anytime.

Russell Ragsdale said...

Thanks Antonia! I'm glad you came by for a visit and some pleasure. Hope I can do some more for you.

Russell Ragsdale said...

Hi Pat! As always, the tongue in cheek is "spot on!" Thanks for the kind words too! Can't wait to get over to your blog to see the latest miracle.

Russell Ragsdale said...

Hi Aristocrat! In terms of infinite, perfect beings - we humans almost always fail throughout our short pointless lives. Please explain the reference to Lapsar for these poor fatboy chefs who are obviously lacking in their education.

Russell Ragsdale said...

Hi Lena! Glad you came for a visit and you are welcome any time. I noticed your poems are always sad but The Porcelain Doll was absolutely awesome. Good luck and come again!

Russell Ragsdale said...

Hi Sue! Can't get free when we are trapped. Sweat on one of your fantastic poems and shake off that restriction.

lometa said...

"corrupt taste of forgotten sweets"

I love the perfection of that phrase:)

Russell Ragsdale said...

Thanks lometa! That phrase felt especially good to write.