Tuesday, November 06, 2007

trees in fall

many have retreated from flesh to bare bones
clearly the hunger is in the crisp air

how the others eat that hunger
and are fed to fat with vibrant color
is the endless question of clear blue sky by day

and stars at night that also crisply crouch
like insect eyes of
a wise and very old
darkness that is nodding knowingly

answering that question like a whisper
when the wind remembers the branches
and tells them to the sky

but oh the rustling of that brilliant fabric
such a glorious flower for the season of departure


SzélsőFa said...

oh, this is just beautiful with so many descriptive visuals. Thank you for the experience!

Russell Ragsdale said...

Thanks szelsofa! Good to see you again and I'm glad the visuals became bright in your eyes. I enjoyed you sharing that comment with me.

_Soulless_ said...

Ingeniously crafted lines here, Russell. Each line has meaningful impact. The middle part of the poem makes me think of nature observing us when we're not looking. Something like that. ^_^

Russell Ragsdale said...

Thanks Soulless! I'm glad to see you here again and pleased you found this meaningful. Yes, nature has it's many faceted eye on us. I'm so happy to have you wise comment, sweet one!

Crafty Green Poet said...

very vivid and evocative, beautiful!

Russell Ragsdale said...

Hi cgp! I'm glad you liked it. Thanks for posting a comment!

rch said...

Hi Russell, this is one of my favorite subjects and I find myself moved by your unique version. Pleasure reading you as always, take care,


Russell Ragsdale said...

Hey Bob! You are right, it is impossible to not be moved by the beauty of the fall season. Thanks for the good words, my friend!

Tiel Aisha Ansari said...

Lovely-- the opening line is breathtaking, the close elegaic.

I'm tagging you for the poetry meme: details at http://knockingfrominside.blogspot.com/2007/11/poetry-meme.html

Russell Ragsdale said...

Hi Tiel! In my experimentation with the sonnet form I found I could use a couplet in the begining (as an introduction to what the sonnet will be about) in addition to the epigrimmatic one at the end that has the job of discovering the real sense the sonnet is trying to reveal.

That comprises the exterior level of echo, if you will, which is followed by these two fascinating three line stanzas that comprise the internal component of the echo or, if you prefer, reflection (as in an object and its mirror reflection, that is not the same as the orriginal because it is reversed).

The central part is the four line stanza, to which seems to fall the job of being aware of invisable presence and lyricisim. They all seem placed like features of a face: ears at the outer edge, eyes more centrally, and mouth and nose in the middle.

I know you find form in poetry as an interesting and a potentially valuable part of it. So I thought I'd share that with you as something to think about.

I usually (if not always) create my own poetry form when I write a poem but this is the only time so far that a single structure or form has returned to me repeatedly. That is why I have started refering to it as a Russell sonnet.

I'm glad you liked this and thanks for that wonderful comment.

I went to your blog and read the meme. I'll start to think how to answer that question today. Thanks for thinking of me.