At the window, I watch a sparrow strip berries from the hedgerow. The magpie has ceased its chatter, contemplating things that matter before giving its opinions on the day. And now the sparrow has flown away. Except for a cat that gently purrs, I sit here at my desk alone, my fingers chilled to the […]
Tag: Meeting the Bar
dVerse Christmas Gifts
Merry Christmas, aged librarian, your gift is wrapped in rosemary and thyme to protect your memories from mould and dust and enhance your sparkling metaphor and rhyme. This Christmas gift, Boris, is wrapped in a hanky; we can’t afford wrapping, so please don’t be cranky. We need all our money to rescue the country from […]
winter woodland
now is the time to explore you in misty light so low you become one inky shadow birch, ash, beech and oak let go of leafy glamour long ago abandoning piles of copper and gold now your copses are barefaced and bold your glimmering gnarly branches hold mulchy aromas of moss and fungus I long […]
Dark Future
You go to sleep and wake to a steady drip and wonder if it’s radioactive or pure and clear, like the streams you once knew. Above ground, no fresh water remains: no trace of rain or cloud or sky. There is just the twilight of your cave, the weak rays that find their way through […]
Passing Rain
The echo of distant rain started to muffle the air and, all too soon, distance was lost to cloud closing in like wet sheep, and sheeting rain that dripped and drummed, persistent and loud on the roof. The willow in the garden blazed with green moss and elaborate dripping lichen, while I stood dazed at […]
Pop Quadrille
the art of quantum physics energetically pops and fizzes on impudent protruding tongues bright and tripping acid tones orange, blue and green on Andy’s silver screen from the depths of velvet underground to a star man spaced out in outer space on Einstein’s face Kim M. Russell, 10th October 2019 My response to dVerse Poets […]
Repair
The puncture in my heart has been slow to mend. What the bumpy road tore apart is melding slowly, patched and glued together. It will take more than all my years to remount the bicycle of life, pump the pedals faster, blow fears away with breeze through hair and gasp of stuttering breath, to repair […]
