I don’t like getting to and from airports, the hanging around, the waiting in queues and the scrutiny of airport officials, but I do enjoy flying. I like switching off and ignoring other passengers, immersing myself in a book with nothing else to distract me – no telephone or door to answer, no appointments to […]
Tag: dverse Poets Pub
Subjugation
In the spring of 1940, in the season of renewal and birth, twenty two thousand men gasped their last defiant breath as bullets exploded in their heads. Now, frozen in bronze, the Katyn Pieta kneels before the powerful wings and sword of the Angel of Death, cradling one of the fallen dead. There’s a hole […]
Wroclaw by Night
Night populates the city, black ink spilling over pavements, splashing quiet corners, filling squares and parks, water- falling down the riverbank, soaking a couple as they hurry from one island of sodium light to another, across the Love Bridge, an anchor for younger hearts padlocked to railings. On the far bank, night is celebrated with a candle-cake […]
Afternoon in Wroclaw
Autumn sepia-tints gathering clouds copper: at three o’clock the day is already drawing curtains on a red and white chimney rising from the other bank of the Oder, piercing the horizon, its smoke a white wind sock frozen while the weather takes a breath. © Kim M. Russell, 2016 My response to dVerse Poets Pub Quadrille […]
The Seafarer’s Garden – Reprise
Merged in a wash of blatant blue, Ocean and sky meet in a kiss, The seafarer surveys the view, Standing alone in private bliss That slopes down to a steep cliff’s edge, Scattered with feverfew and sedge, Where each brash dahlia tempts a bee. But a sailor cannot forget the sea: Like ships’ masts coming […]
The Selfish Giant’s Garden
They visited every day For the grass, starry flowers And space to play for hours. In spring, peach trees burst into blossom And the happy children feasted on fruit all autumn. After a seven year visit with a Cornish ogre, Summer saw the return of the owner, A selfish giant who scared them away With […]
22nd November 1980
It had been a difficult transition, moving from one country to another; from a city’s familiar streets and longstanding friendships to the middle of nowhere in another country with a baby on the way. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. What I didn’t realise was that I’d be thirty odd miles from the […]
The Meeting of Stream and Sea
A stream went dancing, Glinting and glancing Down to a deeply scooped bay, Where waves ebbed and swelled And fishermen dwelled In cottages by the quay. For homecoming skiffs, On top of high cliffs, Perched a lighthouse tall and proud Above sea stacks, waves, And dark granite caves Carved out by storms wild and loud. […]
Kju:
It’s no way to live, waiting for someone to give you a cue, come to the rescue: a soul on hold in the autocue with no words to say and nothing to do but wait for Godot in the queue – missing the cue. © Kim M. Russell, 2016 Image found on sensanostra.com My response to […]
Robin Song
On bleak mornings in November, when birdsong is muted and rare, the robin is the only bird that sings throughout the year. In the bleak gloom of winter, more wistful than in spring, a robin’s song is ‘wildly tender’ – Emily Bronte wasn’t wrong. © Kim M. Russell, 2016 My response to dVerse Poets Pub Open […]
