I met Caroline in our first year at an all-girls grammar school, and we spent as much time as we could together. She lived a bus ride away in a bungalow, the first one I’d ever come across, which her parents had expanded upwards into the roof, where Caroline had her bedroom. It was a […]
Tag: dverse Poets Pub
No Swan Song
In my hollow bones, I feel this year will not be the final swan song. Though the waves come higher, and broken reeds are flung across uneven paths, our eyes are dazzled by birded fields and sun-flecked tides that yield the departure of winter. A verdant fern unfurls unseen beside a bubbling stream and something […]
The Oblivion of Snow
‘For the listener, who listens in the snow, And, nothing himself, beholds nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.’ Wallace Stevens It started with a silent flake, a branched crystal, not unlike a flower or a tree, or the paper doily cut-outs grandma used to make. It started with a snowflake, but […]
Fresh Flow
I have fresh longing to go for a walk by the river, where water flows like feathers, […]
Pigs and Pixels
In this February’s issue of Visual Verse, the image is a surprising one, especially for those of us who like piglets. It’s by Tom or Judy Moore, a drawing rather than a photograph, and it was a bit of a challenge to write a poem in the given hour. My poem is on page 16. […]
I am grey
shadows in snowy woods facets of crisp ice the flit of invisible birds smoke and skeletal trees against ashen skies the light that draws a thin line across the horizon the gentle grey of a heron Kim M. Russell, 16th February 2021 My response to dVerse Poets Pub Poetics: True Colours? Mish is back for […]
An Audience of Ghosts
Stained glass in the ornate dome is splintered by a single ray of sun, forming ghosts in the hippodrome, derelict music hall of burlesque fun. The eerie spotlight pans a vacant stage, traces phantom footprints in the dust, picks out shambolic sheen of bygone age, theatrical fixtures gilded with rust. Vacant seats echo with silent […]
Dewy Mushrooms
A dewy forest of moons,a multitude of mushrooms,soaks in the weight of dawn. It’s snowing spore confetti,cheerful colour splashes:crimson, ochre, cream and rust. Puffballs and parasols,ink caps and champignons,frilly-gilled and plump of flesh, a festival of fungi sprouting earthy fresh. Kim M. Russell, 9th February 2021 My response to dVerse Poets Pub Poetics: Let’s have […]
Topiary
Trees whisper wintry secrets in the bare bones of their topiary, rubbing limbs with knurly suppleness, embracing silhouettes in their lacy canopy, growing side by side, content in their long marriage of species, a symphony of bark and knots, of sap and long-awaited buds. Kim M. Russell, 8th February 2021 My response to dVerse Poets […]
Reheating a Cold War
Red geraniums rust in September rain and sparrows splash in puddles again. In summer’s hinterland, something is stirring leaves already yellow, their weariness showing, tattered and brittle, counting years with their falling. But still trees find safety in numbers, flourishing in ancient copses, forests and woods, growing together for the common good while men train […]
writing in north norfolk 