On Mondays, the village hall is closed: no community cinema, yoga or bingo. Even the clock has slowed almost to a stop. I crunch across the gravel, past the football pitch, dodge clumps of daisies and jump a little ditch. No dogs allowed inside the playground with its drooping swings, not-so-merry-go-round, empty slide and ropes […]
Tag: dverse Poets Pub
Fractured by Traffic
On the village green, bones of goalposts lean at both ends of the empty pitch. I ring-a-round-a-rosy, hugging sidelines, daisy-stitched, tanging of cut grass. Each time it passes, it fractures the stillness, the arrhythmic ebb and flow of traffic as it comes and goes. Kim M. Russell, 2017 My response to dVerse Poets Pub Quadrille […]
Dancing in the Centre of a Noun
(from Carol Ann Duffy’s ‘Anne Hathaway’) Encircling all my words with his,he caressed them with a gentle touch,slipped them on as if they were ashoe, a glove, a familiar verbhe desired for his own; dancingtogether to a melody inquadruple time, echoing thebeat of hearts, we were the centreof the serious ceremony ofthe allemande: we were […]
Celtic Crow
One eye glances askance, glittering jet lustre. Is Morrighan watching? Will she visit you? Wings open like a broken umbrella, a sheen of funereal feathers. Is it alone or are there three to strike fear in the hearts of the enemy? Talons scratch a morbid beat to the castanet clacking of its beak. Sacred sister […]
Postcard to My Younger Self
Wish you were here where I am now, no longer craving days without a row, happy family games and fun with Mr, Mrs and the children Bun. No more nightmares in council flats, where we couldn’t have dogs or cats; no more wishing for trips away to break the boredom of school holidays; no more […]
Another Postcard from Klimt
he wrote not in words sea-sick on a page but painted with damp brush on warm canvas sent a postcard portrait from the poplars in his garden and the shores of the lake Kim M. Russell, 2017 Postcard of Gustav Klimt Im Garten seines Ateliers by Moritz Nähr 1910, produced by EDITION SKYE Wien My […]
The only thing we have to fear…
is not fear itself but ourselves. I am my own worst enemy – or maybe my mind is. It keeps me awake at night with a stream of thoughts and nightmares. It started when I was a child. Listening to adults talk or the news on the radio sparked so many fears of the unknown: […]
Paradise Cobbled
Cobbles have been laid over paradise With stables for carriages and horses, Bawdy taverns, markets, court masques and plays. Life does not follow preordained courses, Cherishing what you have is good practice For tomorrow may well be its demise. Cobbles have been laid over paradise With stables for carriages and horses; They have taken an […]
Que Sera
I wanted to grow up like Doris Day just walking in the rain with Johnny Ray – whatever will be will be. My dad was the great pretender and, for me, there was only you, Mum, singing to Sinatra and Nat ‘King’ Cole, loving me as though there were no tomorrow. Granddad had the mellow […]
April Drizzle
Amidst an army of slim trunks and branches, starkly silver across the bruise of swollen clouds, a shimmering shaft of optimistic sunlight explodes with April drizzle. Ephemeral rain-shadows dissolve into prismatic bows and rippling puddles sparkle with liquidity, intensifying spring and her growing pellucidity. Kim M. Russell, 2017 Image found on Pinterest My response to […]
writing in north norfolk 