Ronald Russman

The August Featured Poet is Ronald Russman

Please feel free to email Ronald at: d40194@gmail.com



I know you are lost
I remember
Fragrant hair
You dance among shadows
Your laughter
Is like wind
I do not know
Where you have gone
I know where you are
You are luster
In my mind
A tremble
In my heart
I kiss you
I touch
You still do not see me
Orbiting slow
Eyes like stars
The Universe
Has you


That note in my voice that sounds like I care
Is nothing but the dryness of lonely night air
I am not angry
I am empty inside
It is not the tears from all the lies
It is not the sadness on my face
It is not my heart and soul that cries
To be released from your disguise
Look to you
Not to me
See the real uncertainty
I am real
Warm and wise
You are alone
With your disguise


Rushing headlong through the night
Racing from her inner plight

Caught within fragments of fragmented dreams
Urgently seeking the source of the screams

Her spirit is toiling in colorless light
Her mind keeps recoiling with animal fright

Past the garden gate to a dark wooded trail
Dressed in white satin with a gossamer veil

The voice filled with anger still rang through her head
She failed to recall what the angry voice said

Her body still throbbing with heat of desire
Voices of the screams became louder—higher

A demon rumbling—course and hollow
Reached out for her, from behind it followed

Heart pounding rhythm to her feet upon the track
She raced through the meadow and never looked back

Her silken gown shredded by briars to strings
Her silky skin ravaged by scratches and stings

The gossamer fragments that fly through the wind
Flutter and float like butterfly wings

The rumble is louder the screaming more shrill
She blazes a path to the base of the hill

From the edge of the forest to the crest of the hill
It was grassy, smooth, and perfectly still

She stopped and turned to feel the night
Stealing shallow breath
In the sallow forest light

As she ascended up the track
The sound receded from her back
Grass beneath her fresh and sweet
Caressed the softness of her feet
Cool crisp nocturnal air
Danced and drifted through her hair
Starlight washed her porcelain skin
Night sounds filtered out the din
Of danger passed
But not the sin
Obsidian sky
Alabaster Moon
Presided as she fell in swoon…
Before the blades of grass were broke
The pillow caught her and
She awoke

Ronald Russman is a retired Advertising professional who left the big city and traveled the west for a summer before settling down in the New Mexico desert. He likes to prospect for gold when he takes a break from writing. The desert is a good place to think, except for the rattlesnakes, mountain lions, coyotes, scorpions, javelinas and wild pigs. His favorite project was the movie series “Back to the Future” for Universal Studios.