Pondering words, the storm drainof my mind, raw,breaks openan augury of rainbows,impossible to reach. Ghosts endure the interfaceof despair and hope, the turningpoint, where darknessis exhausted and lightbegins its return. All we need is a song. Kim M. Russell, 29th August 2020 A found poem for earthweal open link weekend I wanted to go back […]
Tag: earthweal
Rainbow Child
The humid heat had spread like crude oil on a seashore; it prickled and burned skin red, thick and sticky in every pore. A parasol and paddling pool were perfect for the chore of cooling and amusing you: buckets of water, nothing more. Sudden storm clouds above the trees gathered with a growl of thunder, […]
Rewilding a Soul
When she opened the cage, she felt bars beneath her fingers, a metallic chill that lingers and almost stops the heart. Her soul perched on the edge among shadows of danger, liberty felt so much stranger and the landscape was stark. The taming had taken its joyfulness, silenced its song and left it helpless. Its […]
This Green and Pleasant Land
So many shades of green, with brown and ochre in between, and flowers sewing up the edges with wild brambles and tidy hedges. I often long for higher hills, a mountain would be better still, but this flat landscape stretches wide, and touches an enormous sky on a horizon laced by wind-sculpted trees that dips […]
Strange Weekend
Saturday was my first outing, all masked up and nowhere to go but the supermarket, strolling with my basket, calm and clean, with civilised social distancing in wide aisles, touching the inhaler in my pocket, no panic, no fear, husband always near. The Sunday walk was leisurely, a lot of heat but a little breezy, […]
Almost Harvest
no dawn chorus rising later every day sunflowers ripe wheat unmoving in the field a splash of poppies brittle with heat leaves already yellow awaiting release scarecrow silhouette leaning west towards the sun redundancy silent blackbirds in their annual moult counting feathers Kim M. Russell, 30th July 2020 My response to dVerse Poets Pub Meeting […]
Avalon
If only I could float through the mists of time in Morgana’s enchanted boat, to the island of the apples, that fertile fortunate isle that is leaf and sunlight dappled: the place where Excalibur was made and Arthur was laid to rest, with nine queens to watch over him. I imagine how I’d find the […]
Two More Weeks
I have two more weeks of dislocation from the world until I can hook myself back up to life outside. How will I feel? Scared I will freeze at the first glimpse of a masked face? Unable to navigate a supermarket? Incapable of measuring social distance by eye without a ruler? Lost for words? Inside […]