Crepuscular dawn of teenage-hood, tainted with tang of menses moon, invokes a howl of sprouting hair in places unexplored as yet. Nobody told us about freefall or the strange sweetness of explosions in the darkness, lit only by the wolfish teeth of a youthful smile. Kim M. Russell, 19th April 2018 sponse to The Poetry […]
Yellow butterflies…
illuminate the hedgerows imitating clouds of primrose landing on the sensual mouths of bluebell, scilla and hyacinth, intoxicated on their April scent Kim M. Russell, 2018 My response to Imaginary Garden with Real Toads NaPoWriMo Get Listed: Poems In April Edition Sanaa has shared with us a spring poem about by Edna St. Vincent Millay. […]
An Ode to Heath Robinson
Steam-powered with boilers and kettles heated by spirit lamps and candles, with tangled pulleys of knotted string, they survive the incessant tinkering of overall-clad bespectacled men who hope their inventions will work now and then, refreshing stale scones and removing warts, throwing water over neighbourhood cats, complicating the simplest technique – a genius of the […]
The Naked Landscape
The nakedness of an early morning sky never ceases to amaze me. It’s as if nothing happens until the sun rises. At just gone five thirty, the lightening sky was washed clean and unadorned, and there was no wild life in the garden, not even a bird. In the time it has taken me to […]
April Skyline
I’m pleased that another ekphrastic poem of mine has been published in Volume 5, Chapter 6 of the Visual Verse Anthology. You can find it on page 24 or you can follow the link to April Skyline.
Elements of Dragon
What has became of the dragons? Are they in the oceans, leaving trails of scales and seaweed on every rock and shore? Will I hear dragons roar In the echo of a thunderstorm, see tails in forks of lightning or scorched breath in burling clouds? Are there dragons lurking in lava and ore deep within […]
Moment in a Dew Drop
At this moment, quiet morning is pouring a glow of orange sunlight into the garden, placing a drop of dew on every blade of grass; a fluid moment at the start of a new day. Kim M. Russell, 2018 My response to Imaginary Garden with Real Toads NaPoWriMo: Write Here. Write Now. Paul says that […]
Loneliness
I spend early mornings on my own, from any time between five thirty and six thirty until about nine thirty or even lunchtime, depending on what the day ahead holds. It is, for me, the best time to write. With just the cats for company and a wonderful view of our garden, I hole up […]
Lithophile
Dawdling spring starts to lift winter’s dreich and brumy veil from saturated inky hills, revealing cobalt palimpsests on elephantine grey. Outcrops of land-slid indigo form walls dividing pitch and roll, cross ragged seams of paths and tracks through brown and ochre soil riddled with lumps of flint and shale. In the distance, a sliver of […]
Binding with Briars
I bind you with a hedge of spiteful briars from the ensorcelled heart of a midnight forest, a rose hidden from men’s desires for a hundred years incanted in a white-hot rage of Beltaine blossom on a thorny cage. Young men will come to press their suit; I’ll pluck and spear their ripened fruit, stick […]
writing in north norfolk 