It doesn’t matter if you forget the positions of stars in the night sky; the delicate pattern of freckles on your skin is a map of constellations from which I will sing fairy tales, nursery rhymes and lullabies to the music of the galaxies. Kim M. Russell, 24th June 2018 My response to Imaginary Garden […]
Category: Poems
Being human…
we can trace desire in brushstrokes compose our feelings in a song dream that we are someone else all night long we write past, present and future find possibilities in words but we cannot swim like dolphins or swoop and dive like birds Kim M. Russell, 20th June 2018 My response to Poets United Midweek […]
Sick Room
It is the season of drifting scents, honeysuckle morphine in the dark and the ether of phlox and stocks. Outside, the first summer roses fade. He wants to take secateurs, deadhead delicate corpses, but cannot bear to touch petals the colour of bruised skin or inhale the cloying breath of flowers like the ones in […]
Bicycle Music
It’s the geometric symphony of angles and circles, a breath of speed and freedom through seasons and cycles: a shiny metal frame, the acrid rubber smell of tyres and pedals, whistle of wind, zip of wheel on road and the jingle of the bell. Kim M. Russell, 18th June 2018 I’m looking after the dVerse […]
No Regrets
Dad was surrounded all his life by sisters, mother, daughters and a wife; I never saw up close the bond between a father and son. I often wondered how Dad would have been if he’d had a son to kick a ball about, swing a bat at cricket, to rough and tumble play-fight. I tried […]
What is the Essence of a Cat?
Is it a purr or the brush of fur against a human cheek? Is it the curl of a curious tail or the tongue that licks it sleek? Is it a velvet paw, the kneading of sharp claws or a pleading squeak? Is it the surprise of a pair of jade or amber eyes and […]
Nature Always Finds a Way
In the hedgerow, a robin spills its joy at weeds and wildflowers unfurling and greening cracks in the pavement, graveyards and verges. It cocks its head and blinks its eye at a trembling of finches in the sky with flashes of yellow and bursts of twittering. Nature always finds a way: midsummer’s insects are only […]
What is Truth?
Truth is not ceramic moulded and fired only to be smashed in hard light of day. Kim M. Russell, 10th June 2018 My response to Imaginary Garden with Real Toads Fussy Little Forms: Tetractys Marian wants us to try a simple and elegant form this weekend that may allow us to focus on balance: it […]
Sonnet for my students
My students’ eyes are nothing like the sun, it is as if they are not yet awake; they yawn and shuffle in, but never run, until it gets to time for morning break. I have seen some of them arrive on time, to smile at me and greet me at the door. It is delightful […]
Autumn Ripe
I am no gaunt, leafless winter hawthorn: my trunk is not gnarled nor are my branches a twisted mass, no dark hoard of barbs. I am not creamy froth on outgrown hedges, no early dog rose drenched in dew or sun. I dance and rustle with fallen leaves and glow with autumn fruit, nut and […]
writing in north norfolk 