The past became a foreign place; love was more abundant there, with tangled beads, cheesecloth and lace, and everyone had longer hair. His was auburn and thick, and she longed to run her fingers through it. She watched and waited every day for him to pass her way when they were younger – she remembered […]
Tag: Fireblossom Friday
Do butterflies get drunk
on fermenting sap and pollen, like wasps and bees? And are there epic stories imprinted on wings that flicker as they fly, quirky cartoons like the ones we drew in the corners of our exercise books? I’ll have to wait until drowsy summer days, when I’ll hide in the long grass behind the willow and […]
The Thylacine’s Lament
They alliterated me, called me the Tasmanian Tiger, me, a marsupial. They think they obliterated me, but here I am, lurking in the murky shadows between sorrow and laughter, cowering in sun burnt woods. I only come out at night, and you are waiting to find out if my bark is worse than my bite. […]
Inside a book…
the mind is free to wander, explore unfamiliar places, push boundaries of space and time, suspend disbelief and hide between the covers, meet new friends and lovers, populate brave new worlds. Pages and seasons turn and so we learn that when a book is closed and night shadows teem, the contents continue to wander through […]
Almost there
A saddle-worn cowboy on the road hears the promise of amber bourbon in the strains of a lonesome tune. He slaps a dusty faded Stetson against his aching thigh and wipes the grit from his eye. There’s an arduous ache in the back of his throat that begs for that golden liquid burn. His swollen […]
No Room for Passion
In a room too small for tantrums, surreptitious snow storms smother her with quiet quilts. She is a swirl of flakes and ice, cradling the little heat that’s left in the whiteness of her breasts. Kim M. Russell, 2018 My response to Imaginary garden with Real Toads Fireblossom Friday: Poetic Imagery This week Fireblossom is […]
Any More Fares?
To a young child, the jagged edge of paper poked out like a tongue from the machine slung round the conductor’s neck. ‘Any more fares, please?’ With a rattle of his handle he conjured a miniature scroll, a ticket printed with conundrums to last the big red bus ride home. Kim M. Russell, 2018 My […]
Dark Reflections
Avoid the shadow of a black moon on the night of Halloween, and don’t gaze into a looking-glass to see the future or the past. For if the tides are out of kilter and you’ve imbibed a magic philtre, you’ll attract the desire of the one you see: the you in the mirror won’t let […]
Obfuscation
Fog blows in, a gasp of winter from the coast, muffles the shame of trees scantily clothed in withered leaves. Footsteps ring hollow on the path, insipid shadows teeter into view and disappear into the periphery, stirred into the murky brew. Sodium yellow glows from the village store, disperses into shades of nicotine filter-tipped with […]
Wave Washed
I’m under your skin, your nails and tongue; there’s so much left unsaid and undone. No number, no thunder of waves could wash me away, nor the terrifying teeth of a tempest gnaw every trace of bone. I am the scattered salt in every raindrop, the fingers that linger and drip down your pane, scratching […]
writing in north norfolk 