I gave up following little footprints in the dust long ago. I was bored with finding them on the table, wooden floor and stairs, invisible to everyone but me. I’d started to feel sick each time I felt her fingers flick and pinch my arms or stroke my cheek, and moved to the other side […]
That Look
I sat among the guests on bales of prickly straw, the afternoon sun hot on heads and backs, the expanse of Tuscan sky a perfect blue. And so, daughter, were you, perfect in your wedding dress, in your hands a pastel bouquet and single flower in your hair. I admit, I shed a tear, feeling […]
Blueprint for a Summer Afternoon
We sat cross-legged on short grass that left a prickly itch on bare skin. Summer stretched out, […]
Back to Base
I’ve been tuned in to the bassline of my every day, a solitude tuned so low it vibrates in my gut. Above white noise (or is it tinnitus?), the strident call of a crow and the pigeons’ throaty coos counterpoint a blackbird’s song: they have formed the baseline of my Covid day for so long […]
Silent Sob
I have a poem in this month’s issue of Visual Verse and, as ever, I’m in great company, including Misky Braendeholm, Jane Dougherty and Kerfe Roig. This month, writers have been inspired by a powerful sepia-toned image by Gambian-British photographer Khadija Saye, whose work was exhibited in the Diaspora Pavilion at the Venice Biennale in […]
Forgiveness
In the industrial hinterland, stacks belch blue flares, stinking clouds mushroom from smoking fires and orange aureoles radiate and redden the sky of our environmental Armageddon. Will chimneys and factories ever disappear? Will Nature fill the voids of mining year on year? Will a time come when a different kind of steam evaporates across the […]
After the Virus
Megan closed the Chat Window, replacing it with the World Window, and sighed. The daily chat with her mother was becoming a chore and she felt ashamed to feel that way. None of her Friends seemed to have a problem with their mothers, but then hers had been much older when she ‘gave birth’. There […]
A Different Life
into this poem I pour all my worries my pleasure […]
Clockwatching
rhythmic tick constantly turning hands time stands still Kim M. Russell 7th July 2020 My response to Carpe Diem Exploring The Beauty Of Haiku #1827 Paradox Throughout July, we are exploring the beauty of haiku, and today’s episode begins with a quote from Plato to illustrate what paradox is: “I am the wisest man alive, […]
Little Ghost
Footprints in the dust on the table and the chairs, on wooden floors and stairs are left by little feet, invisible to everyone but me. Fingers pinch and flick my arms, stroke my cheek and, forbidding me to speak, coldly press upon my lips the desiccated taste of dust. Dents and hollows form in pillows […]
