From the window and in the confines of the garden, I watch spring advance. Willow buds and almost-blossoms dance on the breeze, promising abundance yet to come. High above in the heavens are black smudges of distant ravens, harbingers let loose among vernal festivities. Stuck alone within these walls, but blessed with flowers, hedgerows and […]
Tag: dverse Poets Pub
The Clarity of Lunacy
Dark clouds lift and take my soul; daytime solitude, taunted by spring sun and blossoms, fades into clair de lune, madness hugs and kisses the moon, her friendly face the soft pale blue of porcelain glaze. I stand at the window and gaze at a night-blackened empty street, no cars pass, no people strolling by, […]
Conjuring Spring
After dark months of hard-as-iron winter, cold and long, the first month of spring has been bereft of birdsong. Still, the vernal magic wand is quietly greening, scattered with white stars of snowdrops, yellow daffodils and golden coronas of celandine, conjuring constellations of sunshine. Kim M. Russell, 23rd March 2020 My response to dVerse Poets […]
Duck – a poem in Visual Verse
The image Visual Verse selected for the March 2020 issue, Vol. 7, Chapter 5, was an unusual one. At first I didn’t know what to make of the photograph by Ryan McGuire, but I managed to write something in the given hour and word limit before going off-line to visit my daughter and grandson. Once […]
Sea Howl
While walking with my dog along the beach, I found a seashell different from the rest, a torrent of waves filled with Neptune’s speech. Spellbound, I contemplated every word enunciated on the ocean’s breath – a poem or the cry of a seabird? Savouring it like salt upon my tongue, the foam like fishy kisses […]
Surprised by Love
Unlike most of her friends and acquaintances, her teenage years and early twenties were not so much sweet with romance but bitter with break-ups and dour with disappointment. “I don’t know why I was surprised every time love started or ended,” she told her therapist, “I never chose the unlikely men I ended up with, […]
The One Who Does Not Go Straight Home
I am the hare who does not go straight home. I relish the cool dew on my whiskers, the wind in ears and scut. Dawn steals past the farmer’s gate and I follow in its honeyed wake, zig-zagging fields, up and down hills, among the yellow daffodils, too full of giddiness to go straight home […]
