The day has not yet ended, we’re not ready for our beds, and the moon’s already rising while the sun’s on the horizon, smudging trees and meadows into charcoal shadows – a momentary impasse, a blur of branches, leaves and grass until the stars come out to play and night ink-washes day away. Kim M. […]
Tag: Imaginary Garden with Real Toads
Humming into the Wind
Through sullen branches of ancestry, a deadened wind soughs a song of loss. Straggling souls skim the trees in skeins towards an ancient rookery to caw themselves to sleep. They echo through insomnolent dreams, but silvered by moonlit poetry I hum against the windy wings, through a mouthful of mouldering leaves, and the succubi of […]
Homo(graph) Erectus
On the harbour wall I notice an appealing notice, a poster advertising trips to see the seals. I seal my lips and harbour memories of selkies, magical creatures with tails instead of legs. I imagine colonies of mermen bobbing in the waves, inviting me to join them as they follow in the wake. But then I […]
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 […]
On the Edge
There’s a surge of crowd on the platform; the track looms too close for comfort and the train is imminent, according to the announcement, so I hug the wall, conscious of an icy spike of wind tugging me a little closer to the edge. Kim M. Russell, 11th March 2019 My response to dVerse Poets […]
Goodbye Mundane Monday
I wake up early and greet another day, a mundane Monday, damp, cold and grey. Winter should be over, or so the buds tell me, there should be sunshine and daffodils. I watch a smoking feather, a skylark rising, and then a second hovers above the winter field – then another, and another ascend into […]
Time to Turn (a Quadrille)
Osier wands planted in November are almost trees. Now’s the time when we remember to pluck a switch or three of willow, white with soft, sleek buds, gold with catkins, sweet temptation to hungry humming bees, still drowsy and crawling from their winter sleep. Kim M. Russell, 6th March 2019 My response to dVerse Poets […]
Progress Forgiven
I forgive pylons that march across fields where once glaciers sculpted valleys, horses plodded down stone-walled lanes and everything travelled by hoof and foot. I forgive the engines that puffed their smoke into the heaviness of time with dark intention and a constant soundtrack of stridulation against a sky the colour of congealed blood. I […]
Spring Kites
bright kites aflutter above cherry blossomed trees a fresh scented breeze Kim M. Russell, 23rd February 2019 My response to Imaginary Garden with Real Toads Weekend Challenge: Season Your Poetry Toni is hosting this weekend with some season words or kigo for spring. She reminds us that the haiku is all about being in the […]
This Poem is a Hill, Indigo Water and Whiffling Geese
This poem is a distant hill. This poem is a welter of indigo water. This poem is geese whiffling overhead. This poem is a rolling, breaking wave of corn the colour of honeycomb, washing against the grassy spine of an ancient sleeping dragon, a landslide washed green. This poem is a distant hill. This poem […]
writing in north norfolk 