i use words like beads to tellthe stories that haunt methey are strung on shadows of whati know is poetry and the gist of it while you sit and planeach word and line toan accurate death that’s what you dokilling your words with the sharpness of your newspaper prose while I am […]
Buzzard
It was one of those days when all I wanted to do was walk until my legs ached, the best way to clear my head of the pressures and worries that weighed it down. Solitude and fresh air were the only remedy, even on an exceptionally hot June day. I tugged on my straw hat, […]
Something Blue
like the small patch of skypeeking through a crack in the clouds or the twinkle in a lover’s eyethat you can pick out in any crowd. Blue like a host of forget-me-nots,a surprise among nettles and long grass. The blue that ties your tongue in knotswhen you remember something from the past. Something small like […]
Blowing its Own Horn
In the momentbefore a poem comes,and you feel its presence,there’s a twinge of sadness, because you knowthat, once you’ve breathed inits words and writtenthem down in some shape or form, it’ll be out thereblowing its own horn. Kim M. Russell, 1st June 2026 On this first day of June, it’s Quadrille Monday at the dVerse […]
Stubborn Words Fight Back
I – not thinking of youthis pronoun’s focus is meegotistical write – purple ink flowingwith the movement of a penstubborn words fight back on – what lies betweenthe switching of on and offno prepositions these – not those this or thatmaterialist humansalways possession spindrift – spat from cresting wavesLeucothea’s laundry’s […]
Let Me
Let me walk by a river without hurrying,let the wind and water chill my fears.Let me walk by a river without worryingabout pollution; let serenity still my tears. Let me walk across meadows of wildflowers,let the sun caress my hair and skin.Let me walk across meadows in sun and showers,embracing nature and storing it within. […]
I Remember
I remember, when I was a child, learning by heart the poem ‘I Remember, I Remember’, written by Thomas Hood in 1844. The opening lines stayed with me throughout my life, through many moves and different countries. I remember how the opening lines got me thinking: “I remember, I remember, / The house where I […]
Late Spring is a Wild Revolution
with its carpets of bluebellsand cowslips; gorse pods popping,pinecones dropping; an overexuberance of May blossomblooming with burgeoning butterflies: brimstones, holly blues,and pearl-bordered fritillaries. How soon it is over,giving way to heat and brighter flowers,an exhausting psychedelia. Kim M. Russell, 21st May 2026 It’s Thursday and Open Link Night at the dVerse Poets Pub, where Grace […]
Bride with a Fan
The blueness is not sadness or regret,nor the colour of a teardrop. It is not a reflection, not the depth of her eye,nothing like the blue of the sky. The fan does not keep her cool,but hides the imperfect smile, the chipped tooth behind her lipsthat snags on words she does not say. Even the […]
Dogberry
Thorny climber dog rosemeanders among hedgerows: in springtime flaunting blushing flowers,where insects devour sweetest nectars; in autumn, a birds’ banquet of scarlet hipsand a source of healthy syrups. The Bard stole the name for his constablein Much Ado, comically irresponsible. Kim M. Russell, 18th May 2026 It’s Monday and, at the dVerse Poets Pub, time […]
writing in north norfolk 