I look back on my life,trying to find the splicebetween child and adult,and find iton a train ride home. I’m not long off the Oostende ferry,all set for a week in London;I have a poem half-done,balanced on my knees. From the open window, a sharp breezethreatens to blow it away;I tuck my notebook under my […]
Category: Poems about Childhood and Youth
Hippy at Heart
I look back on those carefreedays of the nineteen-seventiesand smell pungent Afghan coats,see maxi skirts and knee-high boots,although I preferred to go barefoot.I loved Indian cheesecloth blouses,bangles, beads and loon trousers,bird-covered and scoop-neckedt-shirts, and velvet Biba rejects,patchouli oil, hats and mood rings,and so many other thingsthat I thought made me differentbut, of course, it was […]
Under the Bed
Darkness is the murkwhere monsters lurk,the black gulp of skyin the depths of night,when no stars glistenand no moon listens.It’s the silent smotherunder the coverwhen you get it in your headthat something’s under the bed. Kim M. Russell, 27th May 2024 Image by Annie Spratt on Unsplash This Quadrille Monday at the dVerse Poets Pub […]
I Wasn’t Born Yesterday
Hunched at the dinner table,meal untouched and cold,I was about to slip downwhen Dad said: ‘Ungrateful child,refusing to eat your food.I wasn’t born yesterday. Stop lyingand crying and go to your room!’But you were born before me,way back in history, and youshould have known better.Once upon a time, in the yesterdayof war, you were sent […]
Safety in Numbers
I share my life with numbers,I share my secrets too,and numbers tell me everythingthat I need to know and do. I like to add up numbers,I like to take them away;I’m learning how to multiplyand divide them every day. I can rely on numbers,they can rely on me,but when I’m ready for bed,I much prefer […]
Just Saying
It’s not just a cup of tea,it’s fragrant steamfrom a porcelain bowl,leaves inside blossoming outside. It’s not just a breath of air,it’s hundreds of yearsof leaves and latewood,Earth’s redemption. It’s not just the sea,it’s immeasurable depthsand creatures as mysteriousas aliens somewhere in space. It’s not just poetry,it’s time scrunched into a balland smoothed out again,words […]
The City I Grew Up In
We grew up in flatswith too many stairs to the top,and yet I ran up them, braveand unafraid, morescared of the piss-scented liftthat always stoppedbetween floors. Accompanied by the roarof traffic speeding alongLondon Road, I’d pick my waybetween parked cars,where dads smoked,and mums called kids in to teafrom balconies on the upper floors. Plimsolled feet […]
Buckets
I would love to return to the seasideon a sixties time machine ride,where my sister and I used to playwith our plastic buckets and spades. I would feel the sand between my toes,watch the waves crash on the stones,and run down to the sea to fill my bucketwith water to pour in our sandcastle’s moat. […]
Day at the Seaside
It was one day at the seaside, midway through the summer holidays and, despite the trauma of tepid vomit lying heavy in a paper bag, about to drip on my new cotton dress, as soon as we reached the top of the hill, the whole coach sang with the thrill of seeing the sea. After […]
The Flats by the Playing Field
1. Too many stairs to the top floor, and yet I ran up them, brave and unafraid of falling, but more scared of the piss-scented lift that always stopped between floors. 2. If you bumped into a neighbour, leaping downstairs was easier, even on the way to the grocery store. it was an escape, the […]
writing in north norfolk 