Workaday realities disappear, bright bubbles in a flashflood of birdsong, and the garden becomes a shady mere, green ripples that echo all summer long. l Peace creeps from grass to leaf to tree, along each branch, farther than any wings can reach, way over the top of the silver beech, from which a sole premature […]
Tag: dverse Poets Pub
Broken Compass
Vincent van Gogh once wrote: ‘The conscience is a man’s compass’, but humankind’s compass broke and we have lost our way. We are drowning the planet in a mass of plastic, choking the rainforests with palm oil, sitting by and watching as the polar icecaps melt into the background of inane selfies posted on social […]
Worship
She’s a bright splatter of golden petalled bloom anchored in earth with her many faces in a single head. Her roots absorb toxins from the flowerbed as she worships the sun, tracking its movement across the sky with the loyalty of a lover’s eye. Kim M. Russell, 15th July 2019 My response to dVerse Poets […]
From Fret to Regret
My teenage passion was fingering frets, twisting my fingers into chords and positions, resonating the sound hole of a Yamaha. When telephone wire silhouettes strung across yellow and orange sunsets resemble strings, I regret giving up my dream of playing like Williams or Bream. Kim M. Russell, 17th June 2019 My poem for dVerse Poets […]
Eggs and Other Things in Your Basket
From the steps at city hall, the market square resembles a tin of sweet wrappers, brightly striped in sunshine and glistening in rain. A walk between the stalls makes me sea-sick: I roll down the lurching incline, a sometime sailor, bantering with Norwich traders over fresh fruit, fish and flowers; exotic spices, eggs and cheese; […]
Night Sounds
Above the garden, diamond sparkles fill the sky and the moon is a thin slice of lemon light. An owl floats, a slow ghost fading into shadows. Even the breeze is soundless. I’m beginning to feel that I’m alone on this planet, when far away an interrupted cry causes a rip in the silence – […]
Cruel Paean
For the past few weeks I’d caught it echoing across the village, a lazy iambic chant. When you heard it too, we smiled together at the rare sound of the cuckoo’s two-note song. We forgot that it’s a cold-hearted parasite, hatched and nurtured to the tune of another bird’s lullaby. We were oblivious to its […]
