Originally posted on writing in north norfolk:
Tattered faceless silhouettes Staggered across no-man’s land, Fumbling to attach bayonets, Unkind weapons in shaky hands. Wisps of men blundered in thick of gas Back to the comfort of a mud-filled trench, Eyeless heroes in useless masks Smothering in the toxic stench. One innocent soldier wandering wide, Heading…
Month: March 2017
Kölsch[1]
Kölle Alaaf![2] I miss the echo in the streets, the crowds on Rudolfplatz and Neumarkt[3], the oompa pa of familiar Fastelovend[4] songs and cries of ‘Kamelle!’[5] as sweets hailed down. You helped me dress up as a clown. I drank cold Kölsch, ate salty Pommes mit Mayonnais’.[6] You taught me the words to ‘Mer losse d’r […]
Untethered
As she gradually lost her memory, she lost herself. Haunted by the loss, her anchor rope frayed, detached from sentence and paragraph of life’s prose. Weightless and joyless, she floated in free verse of demented poetry. Kim M. Russell, 2017 Image found on Pinterest My response to dVerse Poets Pub Meeting the Bar – Irony […]
Beacon
bright morning beacon untangles the horizon into skeins of cloud Kim M. Russell My response to Sue Vincent’s Thursday photo prompt – Gold #writephoto
Raindrops
thirsty for knowledge spring raindrops bounce off our tongues pearls of wisdom Kim M. Russell, 2017 Image found on Pinterest My response to Carpe Diem #1182 drop of rain In the last regular episode of CDHK’s exploration of Persian poetry, ‘praise to the emptiness’ Chèvrefeuille has shared a poem by Saadi The Pearl and the […]
Broken Heart Sijo
My heart has been splintered, a broken glass of bitter wine. I was once a rose, now I’ve become a thorn in your side. I must find a new glass in which to gather bitter tears. Kim M. Russell, 2017 Image found on Pinterest My response to Carpe Diem @1181 broken heart Today we have […]
View from a Roof
Each morning we sit here, a pair of old boots grumbling and preening grey feathers after a reveille of tweets and hoots has awakened us, whatever the weather. Anticipating a spring full of song, I rasp a throaty coo, try to sing along but in the corner of my beady eye I glimpse grey squirrels […]
