In a bright display, dawn bursts and colour- washes the sky with a still life of hot pink, purple and gold. Aurora ameliorates and burnishes the old in a bleak, wintry landscape with silhouetted lucidity and an artist’s eye. Kim M. Russell, 4th January 2019 My response to Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo Thursday photo prompt: […]
Category: Poems
A poem to sum up my feelings in this post.
Morning Inspiration
I get up early while you’re still asleep; avoid the cats while creeping down the stairs, try not to wake you with my leaden feet, and stumble over work boots into chairs. The floor is cold, and so’s the toilet seat, the sink is laced with toothpaste and stray hairs. The cat tray smells and […]
Bread-Making in Winter
For months frayed foliage has covered earth, the agèd year is faded to sepia shades and now it turns again to white and grey with early dusk as winter draws its breath. The frigid bite of January’s mellowed, outdone by the aroma, as it lingers, of yeast and flour wafting from your fingers, familiar scent […]
With the Volume Turned Down Way Too Low
I hope it’s only temporary, this cotton-wool muffle of everyday sound, with random crackle of static, constant shower of white noise and high-hat cymbal of gravel on an empty road. I’m bombarded with percussion when I want to hear words, a human voice, the television and the ring of the telephone. Until normal service is […]
If I hadn’t written that poem
‘The world is never the same once a [good] poem has been added to it’. Dylan Thomas If I hadn’t looked up to search the heavens, would my soul ever have been soothed? I waited patiently for shooting stars to zip across the deepest, darkest winter sky – but the clouds were dense, obscured the […]
Ockclay Orkway
Big Ben’s famous ockclay orkway leads the countdown with a bong, the signal for the ewnay earyay, lit up brightly with irefay orkways – until it all goes Pete Tong: Big Ben’s creaking eargays and revellers’ drunken fumbles. You wake up in the orningmay with a hangover and belly rumbles – and nothing’s really changed. […]
Winter Woods
In light so low, the winter woods merge into a silhouette of shadow. Above the silent solitude, clouds roll and break in snow-blasted billows, crooning chilly songs to fill the night with the scent of frost and its icy bite. Kim M. Russell, 28th December 2018 My response to Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo Thursday photo […]
A Reminder
In the grey light of late December – the old year’s end is burnt with embers – a glimmer of spring lifts the temper with thoughts of dew sparkling in the fragrant hazy blooming of hay meadows on an April morning: the yellow trumpet of the daffodil, mauves and blues of clover and speedwell, and […]
Moving Towards the End of the Year
Angular boned branches are bare except for the sheen of random smears of moss and ivy. They scratch at a sky opaque and goose-feather grey. Goblin faces gurn and leer from the trunk of the freshly pollarded willow trunk, their silent roar lost on a windy wave. Scattered birds rearrange themselves on telephone wires, notes […]
The Thylacine’s Lament
They alliterated me, called me the Tasmanian Tiger, me, a marsupial. They think they obliterated me, but here I am, lurking in the murky shadows between sorrow and laughter, cowering in sun burnt woods. I only come out at night, and you are waiting to find out if my bark is worse than my bite. […]
writing in north norfolk 