einfache Freuden mit Dreirad im Kreis fahren fallende Blätter Childhood simple pleasures riding round in circles on a tricycle falling leaves Kim M. Russell, 4th October 2018 My response to Carpe Diem #1515 French Haiku (Haiku Francophone) In the latest episode of Carpe Diem’s sixth anniversary month, we’ve arrived at the letter F and a […]
Category: Poems about Childhood and Youth
Precarious
Throughout the summer, we would tightrope walk along the length of concrete fence that bordered the reality of blocks of flats with smelly lifts, washing like bunting on balconies and the savoury scent of next-door’s dinner. At any moment, our threadbare plimsolls might slip and we could tip to the other side, where trees were […]
Washing Day
I can still smell soap bubbles in the scullery, steamy clean and floating through my early years; my grandmother’s hands red and hot, tea-towels boiling in the biggest pot as I turned the handle of the wringer, reminded always to ‘Mind your finger!’ I remember sitting on the back step while she raised the line […]
Back to School
In the first week of childhood’s September, going back to school was unreal, when I discovered a new sense of smell: I inhaled new uniform, shoes and plimsolls, and the scent of sharpened pencils in satchels. I breathed stale lost property masked with polish from parquet floors of classrooms and the hall; chalk-free blackboards and […]
Seaside Sonnet
The ice cream drip of summer days leaves sticky stains on memories steeped in salt and vinegar, candy floss, egg sandwiches and seaside rock. Faded black and white photos lack the sunny glare of beach towels, the welcome rainbow of parasols, barking dogs and beach balls bouncing in the sea and then the thrill of […]
Magnificent for a Moment
You spent years underground, a larva, your skin brittle and papery, vulnerable you built your cocoon in darkness as black as your carapace. I found you that day, a jet flash in the May sun basking in the heat of urban concrete. I admired your gloss and spectacular size, a stag among beetles ready to […]
She-Wolf
Crepuscular dawn of teenage-hood, tainted with tang of menses moon, invokes a howl of sprouting hair in places unexplored as yet. Nobody told us about freefall or the strange sweetness of explosions in the darkness, lit only by the wolfish teeth of a youthful smile. Kim M. Russell, 19th April 2018 sponse to The Poetry […]
