Tuesday, February 06, 2007


Drink the darkness
but don’t stir,
the glass of night
is a long, black silk sheet.

Tired eyes
dart to shadows
but fear the abyss found there.

Sheets of white
remain bright
but the edge of the room
is frosted with moon.

Still teaching after class.
The itch is scratched
with a red pen.


Anonymous said...

This is excellent, Russell. I could envision all sorts of appropriate images to accompany these fantastic words. Well done!

gautami tripathy said...

I loved the last two lines. How very true.

Russell Ragsdale said...

Thanks Aurora! I"m glad it whipped your fertile imagination into action. Thanks for the wonderful comment my sweet.

Russell Ragsdale said...

Thanks GST! I know you teach; I was sure you would understand exactly what this poem was talking about. Thanks for the great comment sweet lady.

Pat Paulk said...

I always hated those red marks on my papers. Now I know why they seemed so aggressive. Good one Russell!!

ozymandiaz said...

You make grading papers so poetic

I did my best
but got an "F"
So I detest
with every breath
Each given assignment
I spent endless time
on this paper fine
of course most of it
was really spent
on my dance refinement

Russell Ragsdale said...

Thanks Pat! Glad you got a wry smile or two from this little piece. I got a smile too, from your comment. Thanks for that!

Russell Ragsdale said...

Thanks Ozy! I think the real poetry comes from the aquisition of knowledge. As your poem points out so well, sometimes that comes when you get an F. Thanks for that dandy little poem, my friend.

ozymandiaz said...

well, when it comes to the aquisition of knowledge by way of failure I have accumulated quite the data-base.

Russell Ragsdale said...

Hey Ozy, everybody's big data base is that one. They say that success is the experience that one occasionally has at the end of a long sequence of failures. I keep waiting! Thanks for the response!