We inhale scent of roadside pines infused in each raindrop that silver-spatters needles and, snail-like, trickles down their sodden spines. A tidal sussuration, the forest weeps with kisame; we taste rain on our lips: teardrops kissing raindrops, kissing you kissing me. Kim M. Russell, 7th June 2018 My response to Imaginary Garden with Real Toads […]
Category: Poems
Losing my Feet
As a child, I loved to run, to feel the ground pulsate as I began to pound and forge my rhythm into speed. Wind on face, the pull of muscle and the burning in my lungs were proof that I was still alive; I could lose my feet and fly. Kim M. Russell, 7th June […]
Invisible Friends
A summer-born child, I lived in my head, I drew, wrote, sang and read, peopling worlds with invisible friends to fill the space where reality ends. Now I feel winter creep into my bones and my poetic graffiti covers the stones, written in lichen of saffron and green; childhood’s buried where it can’t be seen. […]
Homeless
She hobbles over cobbles, oblivious to the flash of gold-finches in the branches of dusty urban trees. They tinkle as they gather round dandelion puffs to eat seeds, collect fluff for their cobbled-together nests, while she’s still looking for a night-time place to rest. Kim M. Russell, 4th May 2018 My response to dVerse Poets […]
Refulgent
The sky is blasted with dragonish clouds that blacken an ancient wind-blustered landscape long ago weathered into ridge and furrow, dissolving the veil between human and nature, between yesterday and tomorrow. Murmurations of thunderheads gather, unearthly shapes shifting across the gorge where the sun god tempers day in his fiery forge; an alchemist, he chants […]
Under the Eye of the Clock
Springtime in Paris is here again and all along the banks of the Seine artists are unpacking chalks and oils, canvases, water colours, and easels, ignored by preoccupied passers-by and unaware of the all-seeing eye of the Académie Française clock. Above every one of its ticks and tocks, it’s listening for foreign impurity on the […]
It started with a raindrop…
from a cloud landing in mud. Within hours, shallow streams meander and bubble between banks of flowers burning above the flourishing flood. It gushes on, a convulsive weir, a torrent of energy trying to get back to where it was. The heat of the sun draws it up to a cloud and it becomes once […]
Nature Never Lies
Violets, forget-me-nots and pear-drop pink honeysuckle burst at the first hint of heat, spattering garden and street with sunshine. Somewhere, a blackbird sings solo and pearl-edged butterflies weave in and out of flowers flouncing their colours, true to nature’s word. Kim M. Russell, 30th May 2018 My response to Poets United Midweek Motif: Truth This […]
In Bleeding Heart Yard…
pulses quicken at fog-muffled footsteps on the cobbles. Along the soot-soaked lanes, pawn shops and tenements topple, and blackened windows weep tears of grime. They see it all: every good deed and every murderous crime, pickpockets, pimps and paupers, desperate drabs and abused daughters. The dross of life oozes, sobbing and mumbling from the murky […]
Monochrome Magic
The past lingers in black and white, not painted with fingers but conjured with light. Fairy-tale turrets once decked with streaming pennants transformed by time into a wreck; now they have only sheep as tenants. But conjured with light, not painted with fingers, in black and white the past lingers. Kim M. Russell, 26th May […]
writing in north norfolk 