In the sizzling silent dead of night, pain grips with talons, like an owl in the headlights with eyes of blood red. Snowy wings soar high towards the glimmer of dawn with an aching sigh. Pain rotates like an owl’s head caught in the headlights, talons and beak glisten red, cutting like scissors. I lie […]
Tag: Meeting the Bar
No Swan Song
In my hollow bones, I feel this year will not be the final swan song. Though the waves come higher, and broken reeds are flung across uneven paths, our eyes are dazzled by birded fields and sun-flecked tides that yield the departure of winter. A verdant fern unfurls unseen beside a bubbling stream and something […]
An Audience of Ghosts
Stained glass in the ornate dome is splintered by a single ray of sun, forming ghosts in the hippodrome, derelict music hall of burlesque fun. The eerie spotlight pans a vacant stage, traces phantom footprints in the dust, picks out shambolic sheen of bygone age, theatrical fixtures gilded with rust. Vacant seats echo with silent […]
Opening Time
It’s raining old women and sticks; the lights are on, but the pub’s still closed. They’re gasping for pints and packets of crisps, squeezed tight together under the awning, from which fat globules of water drip, trickle off ends of unkempt hair and find their way past grimy collars. Between the telephone box and bike […]
Hagstone
Earth, wind, fire and water, each of them a divine daughter, waged a war on heaven and earth, so powerful that it gave birth to weather-witches, hags and crones, who traded in claws and bones, feathers, fangs, skulls and shells, to strengthen herbs and magic spells. Each bound to their own element, some witches crooned […]
Year’s End
The initial blast of snow that would only last an hour or so – was it a figment of the fearful mind or a tentative reminder of the rapid passing of Time? I imagine the Old Man sifting moments at his desk; the book of life opens itself and he sets about drafting the rest […]
Joni’s Colours
I listen to her voice paint a light and rainbow coloured folk song about a child whose eyes were bright but would never see, of crayons, trees and love. The colours flow through a Chelsea morning, with crimson beads and yellow curtains and a taxi, as if she’s singing just for me. A little green […]
Last Glow of the Dying Season
solitary quinceamong semi-bare branchestoo few leaves to hidethe only source of sunshinefloodlights the dying season Kim M. Russell, 19th November 2020 My response to dVerse Poets Pub Meeting the Bar: Jisei (Japanese Death Poems) Frank is our host today for Meeting the Bar, inviting us to revisit the Jisei (Japanese […]
November Monday
Monday is the colour of sky,the first day of the weekas fresh as washing on a line. This November Monday,there’s a musty yellow scent,an ochre aroma of decay, like a pumpkin or a melon,overripe and mushy mellow,not citrus-sharp like lemons. This Monday’s weatheris washed into a muddy green,sun and wind and rain together, mixed up […]
Wind Music
Safe inside, we listen to the howling wind as it rips up foliage and tears limb from limb branches from ancient birch and oak. Ghostly draughts creep into every nook and cranny, they squeeze under doors and whistle dirges down the chimney. Outside, the wind, still duetting with the trees, sighs in more steadfast branches […]
writing in north norfolk 