They took away my suitcase. There wasn’t much in it: a book to read, clean underwear, a nice dress for visiting hours (no one ever comes) and church on Sundays, moisturising cream for my hands and face. I didn’t think I’d be here long. Now I need to fill it with the weight of nightmare […]
Tag: Artistic Interpretations with Margaret
Shades of the Seashore
We walk along the blustery beach, embraced by towering arms of rock laced with white foam cuffs. Falling sheer to shore, sombre cliffs, banded with distorted strata of basalt, rusty iron, brown and buff, are broken by moss-cloaked boulders, moist with silver sea mist and rain, and crowned with gnarled oak, wind-blasted, salt-stunted limbs leaning […]
La Catrina
It is said that you should never place your faith in a sensual woman in red with full lips on a smooth-skinned face, who sells bitterroot to raise the dead. Her naked heart was born to darkness, counting corpses in an eternity of death and wicked business running the affairs of the city of bones […]
A Brewing Storm
Salt marshes fade away beneath September skies tinged with nevermore grey and a violet obsession. I insist I’m right as rain, and brave the nor’easter to follow the riverway, fired up by a raven wing and the promise of a stormy day. Kim M. Russell, 30th May 2019 My response to Imaginary Garden with Real […]
Smudged
The day has not yet ended, we’re not ready for our beds, and the moon’s already rising while the sun’s on the horizon, smudging trees and meadows into charcoal shadows – a momentary impasse, a blur of branches, leaves and grass until the stars come out to play and night ink-washes day away. Kim M. […]
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 […]
Scrimshaw
is the sound of wave washing whale spurt of spout from blowhole mournful moan of humpback’s tune whaler’s ahoy and thud of harpoon a deconstructed tooth or bone hacked and sawn, cut and honed when a lull of inactivity gave rise to creativity a reminder of giants of the sea human beings’ waste and cruelty […]
Harbinger
A glimmer of sky is reflected in its eye, echoing with the raw and ragged corvine caw, reminding us of misty dawns, morning breath of autumn yawns and branches bristling with jet feathers as the harbingers of winter flock together. Kim M. Russell, 12th July 2018 My response to Imaginary Garden with Real Toads Artistic […]
Clandestine
Leaves murmur in the woody copse. Twilight is more alive than sombre day and we fly outside time. Together we haunt waxing shadows; heart-stirring hoots bind us to sorrow; unearthly hiss and sigh, blinking discs of eyes and graceful drifting over tangled grass – a fleeting meeting and then they’ve passed. Kim M. Russell, 2017 […]
Out of Body
A living quilt of stars and meadows lies across my bed; my spirit rises from my body pale as the dead. I am water rushing in the river, ever towards the sea; I flow through culverts and canals but you won’t see me. I am clouds and I am stars dotted in the sky; in […]
writing in north norfolk 