equine muscles twitch chestnut gloss in midday sun amenable might Kim M. Russell, 2017 My sixteenth response to Carpe Diem Winter Retreat 2017: Life is Beautiful
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Nobel
no church bell no alarm bell just the body clock warning and a stormy morning outside the window later, the man on the radio says the Nobel prize for literature has been awarded to Kazuo Ishiguro, whose stories will never let me go unconsoled in the pale view of hills, an artist of the floating […]
Shed Theory
In the corner of my eye, above the relative order of notepads and CDs, I can see the sad ruin of the garden shed, silent and crumbling in a nettle bed. Inside, brambles try to make their escape, scratching at windows that crack and break, held together in the embrace of neatly spun cobweb lace. […]
Giants once roamed here… by Kim M. Russell
Source: Giants once roamed here… by Kim M. Russell
A South London Heaven
Across the football pitch on this side of the rails is wild fennel and long grass: a jungle for snails. There’s a wild damson tree, hawthorn and crab apples, where we lie, you and me, below leafy dapples. In summer there’s sunshine, in winter there’s snow; I love spring and autumn, when trees bloom and […]
Peregrine
Scimitar wings cut through the air: falcon of kings watching, a silent movie villain twitching his black moustache. Dark and angular, this fearsome hunter hangs motionless. Tail clenched, closing wings into a stoop, he bullets towards his prey, banks and shoots away out of sight. Kim M. Russell, 2017 Image found on Pinterest My response […]
Brutal as a Supernova
Don’t get too close. You are no super-human astronaut in the thrall of a brutal, brilliant cosmic flash. Keep away from powerful explosions brighter than the Milky Way. You know, it may not be a supernova. It may well be the freaky death throes of a star, torn apart by the tidal forces of a […]
Anticipation
A project for the summer, you said, shaking the yellow curls on your head and, opening up your sweaty hand, offered me hard seeds with zebra bands. The teacher had given you a little sack and, like Jack’s mother, I was full of doubt, prepared to throw them out. Where would we grow sunflowers in […]
Fading Photographs
I have an ornate cardboard box, quite large, with lid and metal handle, stuffed to overflowing with tangible memories, crackling paper photographs. I treasure most the black and white that echo with my mother’s laugh, when her eyes were wide and bright, her skin was smooth and her hair was soft, when she could lift […]
Painting by Numbers
Painting from early morning, with the gusto of a New Yorker a Glaswegian a Marseillais eating a haggis a hot dog a bouillabaisse, the artist tried to beat the August heat before his still life wilted. Applying chrome yellow with textured impasto, he was determined to paint them all in one go. Now the tournesols […]
writing in north norfolk 