Like sea-washed shells,pink as babies’ nails,poems surf the mind’s tide,riding on the swell. Salty words spill overochre sand; greywhispers of sprayon pebbles, they write themselvesin the ebb and flowfor the poet to harvestbefore they’re windblown. Kim M. Russell, 22nd October 2026 Lillian is our host for OLN today at the dVerse Poets Pub, when we […]
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