Birch Trunk

The contour of an old silver birch is broken by a wood- pecker cocking his red-capped headand hammering holes,catkins ripplingin the wind,insect bores, clinging strands of ivy,bulbous fissures,thick bark, ledges cushioned with moss and lichen,sprouting fungi.Kim M. Russell, 1st April 2024 It’s Monday, Aril Fools Day and, at the dVerse Poets Pub, Lisa is hosting […]

The Night Circus

It’s a circus of dreams, clouds,ice and magic, open only at night,in tents striped black and white. It appears to dreamers,sometimes joyous, often tragic,enraptured by the mystery and magic. Centre stage, two young magicians,well-matched in skills and wit,impelled by the shadowy circus to pit themselves against each other, discoverlove in circus shadows and maybe deathin […]

An ocean

is a torrent of turbulent tidesebbing and retreating its voice flows and scatters widesometimes gently whispering often wind-blasted and cruelembodying creatures living in its sunless depths some bright as jewelsothers as mysterious as something on a planet orbiting the dark reachesof space devoid of wind rain and sun on earth oceans crash on beachesas they […]

Gannet

Amid the balmy, briny breath,the whiff of wind-worn rockand washed-up bladderwrack, a great white birdemerges from the ocean. It’s a pterodactyl-like contraptionof hollow bones and feathers, buffetedby the coming storm. Puppeted, the gannet freezesmid-flight, a scribble torn between fantastic nacreous cloudsand foaming green waves,trapped in the anticipation of an early sea grave. Kim M. Russell, […]

On the Hill

On my first visit, looking from the Market,I imagined the body of Robert Ketthanging from its walls,a warning to the rebelswho stood up to wealthy landowners,against unfair land enclosures. I wandered up a mound dug by slaves,to an edifice built over Saxon graves,a symbol of Norman subjugation,to counter revolt and rebellion. Throughout history they rose […]

Golconda

City gents without umbrellasfall from the sky like rain; I feel sorry for those fellas,bowler-hatted, dressed in grey, early for work in the morning,late home at the end of the day. Disenchanted gents are fallingpast suburban windows where their perfect wives are waiting,aprons on, scent behind ears, in their hands a glass of something,a peck […]

View from the Ochre Room

In his studio in the asylum at Saint Remy,the artist sets up his easel, takes a sheetof paper the size of a street poster (maybeit was once a poster), and attaches it,smooths it flat, arranges chalks, oils,watercolours and brushes.He chooses carefully, black chalkto sketch the window, a little off-centre.Light passes through the glass of jars,bottles […]