we are aerial we are swifts asleep on the wing or rising sooty-brown to black against the sky wings like scythesand all summer long we fly until the long days pass African heat and grass call like drums and rattles and we fly Kim M. Russell, 8th March 2021 My response to dVerse Poets Pub […]
Tag: dverse Poets Pub
Fringe
I used to hide behind fringes: the tablecloth fringe that dangledfrom grandmother’s dining table,the one I pulled until scaldingtea splashed on my legs; the grass and weeds on the fringeof the field near the railway bridge,the green-shadowed placewhere I buried my pet hamster; the fringe of hair over my eyes,my mother’s scissor-straight line,the blonde fringe […]
Terrapins and Sweet Corn
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 […]
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 […]
writing in north norfolk 