Time is a constant artistmarking our years together,reflecting seasonal colours. It’s a sculptor tracing years on skinfrom the moment we begin,a novelist writing our book. Now we have time to pauseand marvel at the winter suncomposing poems in our garden. Kim M. Russell, 30th January 2024 Thirty-one years ago.
Category: Poems
A poem to sum up my feelings in this post.
Vernal Rebirth
We’re surrounded by the dead and dying,tangled and defying, branch and tree like giant corpses nourish everything.Even sleeping trees can conjure growth into green froth of luminosityin village, city, copse and forest. From lifeless days under leaden skies, wewatch sleeping trees slowly conjure spring. Kim M. Russell, 25th January, 2024 Over at the dVerse Poets […]
Woman of Earth
she aroseout of soil and mud all but swept from shimmering lightPandora, womanof flesh and blood her heart the slow beat of the forestnaïve and curiousbeautiful and mysterious whisper of a tree- top windwith only a stopperedjar of clay to her name imbued with nectar of the godshappy to be given lifeto become a wife […]
Frequently the woods are pink
Frequently the woods are pink,hunched over, shy and nude,creeping round churned up fields. Carrion crows, grey as fading ink,pick at drowned worms, rudeand raucous as they wield sharp, curved beaks then sinkthem into mud, cackling a lewdcaw. Breaks in the treeline reveal the village church, a chinkof grey stone to lighten the mood,bobbing on the […]
Fye Bridge
In Norwich, where an ancient wooden bridge once stood, another took its place, but it was never rid of its use in the witch trials, and now it is a haunted space. Where Fye bridge crosses the river is a handsome part of the city; the stories it holds would make you shiver from its […]
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 […]
The lightest note breaks
with lips of frozen berries,those first kisses beneath wood smoke and stars.I didn’t realise we had so much in common:the pen was the key.It’s a quarter past three on a Sunday morning,I am an unripe field with scarlet seeping,everything’s turning,deceived by a cancerous two-faced moonat the tipping point of summer.Once it was the colour of […]
Robin Prints Across the Page
They say that a robin is a sign,a visit from a loved onefrom the other side. Chill January breathhaunts me on the anniversaryof my mother’s death, her favourite bird follows meround the garden,cocks its head and eyes me, leaves invisible spoorsacross a blank page,a love letter of sorts carving a pain in my heart,lingering grief […]
A Clattering of Sorrows
It began as a muffled splash in a half-flooded field,became chyak-chyak and chattering echoesin the January vacuum,then exploded into black ink,splattering Rohrschach blots against the winter-grey sky:a clattering of sorrows.I counted thirteen jackdaws. By Kim M. Russell, 9th January 2024 Image by Alexei Zaitcev on Unsplash Written on the anniversary of my mother’s death, for […]
Searching for Dark Matter
We could search the skywith the naked eyeor the ocean bedbut, when all is said, there’s enough darkmatter in a symphony,a masterpiece of art,prose or poetry. What the eye can’t seein heaven or below the sea,is hidden deepin our hearts and souls. Why do we feel the needto explore black holes(or alcohol in dark bars)for […]
writing in north norfolk 