the millstone has stopped hidden beneath frost and ice a hungry temple snow drops from a branch […]
Month: April 2018
Self-portrait in front of a misty mirror
The glass is cold to touch, fogged up with early morning bathroom steam. A drop of condensation rolls from top to bottom, clearing worm-holes where pupil matches pupil. Nose as close as glass allows before my breath steams up the gap, I see her eye, the cerulean I would drown in as a child, the […]
The Devil’s Among Us
‘But soon the devil’s among us flesh and fell’, taken from ‘The Ballad Of Villon And Fat Madge’ by François Villon Let us arise from our drunken pit and savour every element of spring: the burst of every flowering bud; the first silvery notes of mating birds; the drowsy hum of the first bumblebee – […]
Natural Maths
clement weather strips patina strips wizened bark of winter […]
Eres Tu
We wake up one day and find out who we really are. Souls, hearts and lips touch; we feel it deep into our bones and say ‘Eres tu’: it’s me and it’s you. Kim M. Russell, 2018 My response to Imaginary Garden with Real Toads Eres Tú Marian says that Carla Morrison needs no introduction […]
Pond
In next-door’s garden there’s a sparkling circle of water, unruffled by wind and rain. I often wonder if the refection of leaves and clouds, if its pristine perfection has ever been cracked, shattered by the density of stone, […]
The Thirteenth Metaphor
Ink waves on tide-planed shore disappear in foamy imprints in sand, where poems die, amber corpses in my hand. I exhale a breath into frozen pebbled mouths until their bones heave, paper miracles unfold and I rediscover ebb and flow of tides that cannot alter the progeny of my flesh. Kim M. Russell, 2018 My […]
Rainbow
A rainbow is the marriage of sunlight and rain. When kissed by a raindrop, a beam of white light disperses, in a similar way to light through a glass prism, into the colours at the ends of the visible light spectrum. We are taught about optical phenomena in school science lessons. However, as a child […]
Beginning a Poem with a Line By Heaney
To flood, with vowelling embrace, a page agape at my pen’s impudence, is to leave wounds of words upon its face, carved with the sharp and flat of consonants. Blood is ink dried in thirsty lines and margins, annotated stanzas, editor’s cut and thrust. All the while my stack of notebooks burgeons, shrouded in poetry […]
They only come out at night…
ticking a tune like flicking teeth on a comb in the shadows of the mangroves: Technicolor crabs wielding lethal-looking purple claws at the ends of blood orange legs; peering with jack-o’-lantern eyes. They are benign eco warriors, leaf and seed collectors, feeders of the forest, unseen Costa Rican jewels of Halloween. Kim M. Russell, 2018 […]
writing in north norfolk 