I’ve been submitting poems to the Visual Verse online anthology since 2016, and am delighted to have another poem featured in the February 2020 issue, Vol. 7, Chapter 4. The inspiration is an amazing image by Omid Armin. As you will see, I’m in great company, with Jane Dougherty featured on the previous page. You can […]
Tag: dverse Poets Pub
Tulip Fields
I am a Middle Eastern beauty, a migrant of the sixteenth century, a gauzy turban of petalled secrets. Some prefer me dressed in scarlet, sprung from droplets of blood, a ruby flood of perfect love. My yellow flower’s glow is cheerful, the power of my white’s forgiveness, while my purple robe is royal. My orb-shaped […]
Moments
There are moments caught between heartbeats, between light and shadow, time and space, in the swing of the pendulum, tick and tock, that leave us breathless. Lightning strikes during those moments, illuminating the darkness of a city street, an ocean, a field or, in my case, the garden in the middle of the night. A […]
Nothing Short of Dismal
Everything is packed up ready to leave for the last time on a dark and dismal February day as the spring tide roars on the other side of the dunes waiting to devour the coast the fields the villages drown the towns and rampage in the cities and you say “Let’s go to the pub […]
Moon-marked
She was untouched by the sun, skin pale as the moon, heart marked with lunar craters, one for each lover in her life. She has danced dark rhythms, kissed many shades of skin and lips, felt the resonance of untameable blues pulse in veins and hips, but she will never know the misery of a […]
Persephone’s Fanfare
The morning walk takes us to an otherworldly place where winter aconites grow and butter the park like toast. They fill the air with a spring glow, Persephone’s annual boast, a fanfare to the sea swell, the burgeoning tsunami yellow of crocuses and daffodils. Kim M. Russell, 10th February 2020 My response to dVerse Poets […]
Black Tulips
Glossy goblets in the florist’s shop, rare tulips, brimming with power and strength, constrained like Rilke’s panther, stained with the ink of witching hours. Oh, for a pot of midnight flowers, scented with soil, not a bouquet of beauties with stems cut and wilting in their pain, but petals of black velvet that bloom again […]
Start the Week Day
I loved childhood Mondays, those start-the-week days, back-to-school days of stories, songs and poetry. They smelled of pencils, paint and ink, clean uniforms, faded dinner stink, disinfectant and freshly waxed floors. We sat in rows, our desks clear, blackboard clean, blank slates waiting for the teacher to write the date. Kim M. Russell, 4th February […]
Spring is already here…
In our garden we have green daffodil leaves, a small clump of snowdrops, buds on the cherry tree and honeysuckle tendrils. I’ve seen catkins dangling from branches and fuzzy pussy willow buds on my way to and from home. And we have cock pheasants strutting about noisily, facing up to each other. Mother Nature hums […]
Golden Hour
Winter sun slants low, cold but golden. Shadows overflow field edges, ditches and hedges, while dusty light glows in the windows of the ancient church and on the walls of the old barn, amber as the eyes of an owl. Kim M. Russell, 30th January 2020 My response to dVerse Poets Pub Meeting the Bar: […]
writing in north norfolk 