Monday, November 27, 2006

Sometimes a pearl

The whitest flower grows in a sea of mud,
Never seen, never knowing the lips of the sun.
I grew up in a culture of lost relatives,
Finding the ones I didn’t want,
Searching for mystery and what I don’t know;
Looking for John Merrick in all this deformity,
Trying to make my own light,
Trying to glow in the dark,
Trying to get past the hate and anger,
Finding gentle humor, licking a wound -
Sometimes not hurting so much,
Sometimes breath taken in the deep beautiful,
Sometimes a pearl trying to invent
An oyster I like.

(Orriginally published in The Banks of the Little Miami, Vol. 12)

18 comments:

Aurora said...

Hello, Mr. Poet. I enjoyed this one when I saw it in Little Banks.:)

Now how about submitting some work to Autumn Leaves? I have a feeling they'd love you:

http://www.sondra.net/al/default.htm

Kranti said...

We can't choose our relatives, but the good part is, we can choose our friends...and go where we want to go...Cheers!

Don Iannone said...

A real beauty, Russell.

Do you have snow where you are?

Pat Paulk said...

They all grow in some sort of dirt, mud, or muck. Alot said in this one. Damn fine poem Russell!!

Russell Ragsdale said...

Hi Ms. Poet! Glad you enjoyed it in the Banks. I'd love to submit some poems to them. I'll be checking it out in the next day or two. Thanks a lot, my sweet. Thanks for suggesting them to me, I really appreciate it.

Russell Ragsdale said...

Thanks kranti! Aint it the truth. Thanks for the visit and the comment. Cheers to you!

Russell Ragsdale said...

Thanks Don! This is one of my personal favorites, I'm glad you liked it.

Yes, we've been under snow here since the first of November. It's quite cold here, as well. I suppose that's not too surprising as our northern border is Siberia.

How about you?

Russell Ragsdale said...

Thanks Pat! I'm glad you liked it. Think about the potato with it's brilliant white flesh. The flower only has it's roots in the muck; the potato lives its whole life burried in it.

Yeah, this one had a lot on its mind. Thanks for the great complement, my friend!

gautami tripathy said...

It is like searching oneself. I do it all the time without finding answers.
You put it so well here.

Russell Ragsdale said...

Hi gautami tripathy! Glad you found pleasure here. Try narrowing the variables in the question to see if the answers can't be forced to be more specific and therefore more comprehendable. Thanks for the wonderful and encouraging comments.

iamnasra said...

How sad but how amazingly beautiful to find that pearl..your voice here seems to open the shell so we can view the beauty of that pearl

Russell Ragsdale said...

Hi Nasra! I'm glad you enjoyed this poem. Thanks for those wonderful words.

J. Andrew Lockhart said...

this is beautiful -- great work of emotion

Russell Ragsdale said...

Thanks Andrew! It's one of my personal favorites so I'm very happy it has rung true for you. Thanks for the great comment.

Sue hardy-Dawson said...

Such beauty from a grain of thought

Russell Ragsdale said...

Thank you so much Sue! There is good about us, in spite of our difficulties, and this poem simply wants to acknoweledge that. Your comment was really heartwarming.

Louise said...

I like this one a lot. The last two lines really struck me!

Russell Ragsdale said...

Thanks miss richardson! I'm glad you liked this. It is about one of my favorite themes - self-transformation. I'm delighted that couplet packed a punch for you. Thanks for the great comment.