Frequently the woods are pink,hunched over, shy and nude,creeping round churned up fields. Carrion crows, grey as fading ink,pick at drowned worms, rudeand raucous as they wield sharp, curved beaks then sinkthem into mud, cackling a lewdcaw. Breaks in the treeline reveal the village church, a chinkof grey stone to lighten the mood,bobbing on the […]
Tag: Emily Dickinson
Bustle
The bustle in a mourning house on the morning of a loved one’s death takes away your breath; it’s the solemnest of industries and the sorriest of duties. You sweep up your heart and set your love apart, petrified with the certainty you’ll not use them until eternity. Kim M. Russell, 22nd April 2023 ‘Death […]
The Last Narcissus
Drooped under the hedge, a faded socialite after the party’s over, her flouncy yellow dress is stained and torn, flapping round ungainly limbs. Retiring to the darkness of her bed, a splash of sunshine wrapped in onion skin, she waits for next spring. Kim M. Russell, 2017 My response to Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Saturday Mix Teresa […]
The Poet Answers
Answer Morning – Where is the moon – Where are the stars – Where are the dreams? Ah, said Morning – Where is the dew – Where are the birds – Where are the poems? Sparkled the Sun – Where is your pen – Where are the words – Where are the rhymes? Here, said […]
writing in north norfolk 