Friday, July 06, 2007


the wound sits sullenly
seeming never to scar over

in my white jacket with
mirror on my forehead
i take out my pen

to look for its history
a deep pocket of hurt –
imbedded alternate reality –
in a shallow layer of skin

scratching my case notes
on oversensitive paper
like a photo of a sigh

beauty maybe is skin deep
but ugly is a cosmos


terrymcdermott said...

man the last two lones of this poem was great. put a smile on my face.

Russell Ragsdale said...

Thanks Terry! This is actually an experimental sonnet of my own invention. It works like a numerical pallindrome 2,3,4,3,2. It has the useful benefit of starting and ending with a couplet. Glad to get a smile from you and thanks for those happy words!

faye said...

oh wow, your poetry is so good. i'll put you in my links. (saw your comment on soulless' page, which i frequently visit)

Ruela said...


Russell Ragsdale said...

Hi Faye! Thanks for finding me and saying such wonderful things. I'm honored by the link and would love to recipricate, if that would be alright with you. I'm glad you found me and I'm looking toward finding all about you.

Russell Ragsdale said...

Hi Ruela! Thanks for that fabulous word. It is what we live to find and show. I see it on your site my friend.

Pat Paulk said...

Very true, sadly true.

Russell Ragsdale said...

Thanks Pat! It certainly is! thanks for that.