Word Magic

What is this enchantment of wordsthat soar like birdsor hop from branch to branch?They are at their bestwhen they form their murmurationsand make morning declarations,feather fluttering,quietly mutteringon the wings of flight:a gift of magical inspiration. Kim M. Russell, 7th April 2025 This Monday we are writing quadrilles at the dVerse Poets Pub, and De is […]

Why I am not the Little Dancer of Fourteen Years

To begin with, I am too old.At fourteen, I suppose I couldhave been, but it was too late: Edgar Degas was already dead,I had poetry and rock music in my head,and I wasn’t made of wax or bronze. In adult years, I found hernor far from here,at the Sainsbury Centre, Norwich. I was close enough […]

Tea

On my lap,is a warm cat,no cuckoo in the nest,and in my handmy favourite cupof cranberry and raspberry, a fruity burst on the tongue,never unfit for purpose,warmth spreading from mouthto the cockles of my heart,heightening the senses.All around me is calm. I breathe.A poem blooms from the leaves. Kim M. Russell, 6th April 2025 On […]

Moon-Shaped

On a frosty night, stars careen, blow themselves to smithereens, and drift like snow in a symphony of moonlight. Play as if about to cry, suffused with inspiration: thrum strings of a moon -shaped guitar, pluck notes like butterflies, bones and birds. Chords have their own tongue. Words are not required, only the silver tunes […]

The Christmas Painting

He disappearedto who knows where, and I didn’t find out until Christmas Daythat he’d been to buy a painting. The woman looks like me,pushing my old bike through the gate of our red-brick cottage,in my long black coat. Greeting me in the garden, is the goatI always wished I’d had, a cat, crowsand the little […]

I, Poet

I need to ease the itch of wordsthat wake me up at night,to sing in a different languagewith imagery and bite. I love to linger in poems whereno other poet has been yet,to feel a smile inside myself  when other people get it. The poetichor of a poemcan drive me to distraction,like spring blossom dancingor […]

Hejira

When the wanderer returns,what does she bring you?The skull of a bald eaglepicked clean, white and flightless.You call it Icarus,and wax rolls down like tearsas she writes you epic songsabout the refuge of the roads,and you think she’s finally home,but her mind is constantlyon travelling, travelling, travelling,a personal odyssey,not a false alarm. Kim M. Russell, […]

Cyclorama

Nature creates her own panoramicmural on the inner surface of my mind,and I am immersed in a manicexplosion of life in forest, garden, orchard,overflowing with the language of spring.It is no April Fool’s trick.A tunnel of branches,punctuated with lime green buds,leads me into the wonder of Mother Earth,a cyclorama of birth and rebirth. Kim M. […]