We rise to weak sun in porcelain skies. Blizzards have gathered and frost lies hard under thick white blankets: a landscape of sleeping giants, mountains and steppes. Snow feathers land on a bare black hedge where, Christmas card cute, with sharp black eye and red breast burning against the snow, a robin reminds us that […]
Tag: Imaginary Garden with Real Toads
The Sweetness of a Pear
Pale yellow-green tears pool in the fruit bowl. I choose one with a blush, hoping its shyness foretells flavour. Under a running tap, my pear gleams and drips. I use a tea towel to dab away its fears, buff the delicate skin, inhale its honey breath. I bare my teeth, sink them into gritty flesh, […]
Morning Shivers
Winter’s at its lowest ebb, with branches bare against low skies and frost crisp at the river’s edge. Dawn carves grooves into the ice formed on the garden pond, where grass seeds are petrified into brittle frozen fronds. Early morning has been captured in a sparkling silver sculpture. Kim M. Russell, 2017 My response to […]
Blowing his Own Trumpet
Pinocchio’s truthful nose swells and grows with lies but his eyes sink and skies grow black no way back now hijack fake news Kim M. Russell, 2017 My response to Imaginary Garden with Real Toads Fussy Little Forms: Than Bauk Marian has given us a big challenge with another fussy little form, the Burmese THAN […]
A Sea Witch’s Song
Beach your beauty on the back of storms and bind your spells, pulsating northern lights. You offer songs to the night but are drawn by siren stars. Lured off course without navigation, you fight waves of mass ejection and collide with the shore, exposed to the cosmos: foamy flukes glint in starlight, your songs echo […]
Crunch Time
It’s that time again: after the crunch of autumn leaves we face the bite of ice and snow on the bank of the frozen river at the edge of the year. We look across at the future and wonder where we go from here. Kim M. Russell, 2017 My response to dVerse Poets Pub Quadrille: […]
Dry Bones
among chalky calcium bones and stale skeleton exhalations chilled by death’s silent keening he searches for a deeper meaning just the basic element survives no skin, no muscle, tongue or eyes brittle skeleton, skull and teeth and no vitals underneath form and structure linger on long after life’s poetry is gone Kim M. Russell, 2017 […]
Mirror Magic
The mirror in the garden pond is cracked with rushes, irises, rotting leaves and watercress; a single poppy lingers on, pale petals promise oblivion. In the mirror of the garden spade, a toad with its glittering topaz gaze, legs akimbo and puffed up body dangles from the shiny blade, toxin flooding warty membrane. Mirror, mirror […]
Mother Holle
Loaves steam, apple scent curls and twists from the cauldron; hot breathy spells rise and pop with piquant punctuation in Mother Holle’s kitchen. Her sinister hand conjures incantations, her dexter spins and weaves them needle prick by needle prick into something lyrical and more poetic. She no longer has the youth and charms to lure […]
Locked Doors
Charred doors bulge with damp, dreams and ideas, accumulated years, dust and grime of dead inhabitants, the keys mislaid in council drawers, long forgotten. Bereft of residents, the condemned building shifts and sighs, and prepares for bulldozers and wrecking balls – no need for locks now. Kim M. Russell, 2017 My response to Imaginary Garden […]
writing in north norfolk 