In dawn’s quietudethe rising sun is a full stop on the horizon,a sizzle from red to orange, rudein its nakedness, all the while risinginto a still slumbering sky.Its light is concentrated in one place,a gold reflection like a cat’s eye,shimmering across the Earth’s face. A rusty vixen trots from behind a tree,the sunlight burnishing her […]
Tag: NaPoWriMo
Dawn Parting
Pushing aside the fluidity of morning,you’re aware that outside day is dawning. You’re half asleep, dreams flutter on your lashes,unaware that a brand new day is dawning. Woken by a blackbird singing in the garden,your eyes open to the gentle day’s dawning. Stretching and yawning, you rise and dress,in preparation for another day’s dawning. How […]
Why I am not the Little Dancer of Fourteen Years
To begin with, I am too old.At fourteen, I suppose I couldhave been, but it was too late: Edgar Degas was already dead,I had poetry and rock music in my head,and I wasn’t made of wax or bronze. In adult years, I found hernor far from here,at the Sainsbury Centre, Norwich. I was close enough […]
Tea
On my lap,is a warm cat,no cuckoo in the nest,and in my handmy favourite cupof cranberry and raspberry, a fruity burst on the tongue,never unfit for purpose,warmth spreading from mouthto the cockles of my heart,heightening the senses.All around me is calm. I breathe.A poem blooms from the leaves. Kim M. Russell, 6th April 2025 On […]
Moon-Shaped
On a frosty night, stars careen, blow themselves to smithereens, and drift like snow in a symphony of moonlight. Play as if about to cry, suffused with inspiration: thrum strings of a moon -shaped guitar, pluck notes like butterflies, bones and birds. Chords have their own tongue. Words are not required, only the silver tunes […]
The Christmas Painting
He disappearedto who knows where, and I didn’t find out until Christmas Daythat he’d been to buy a painting. The woman looks like me,pushing my old bike through the gate of our red-brick cottage,in my long black coat. Greeting me in the garden, is the goatI always wished I’d had, a cat, crowsand the little […]
I, Poet
I need to ease the itch of wordsthat wake me up at night,to sing in a different languagewith imagery and bite. I love to linger in poems whereno other poet has been yet,to feel a smile inside myself when other people get it. The poetichor of a poemcan drive me to distraction,like spring blossom dancingor […]
Hejira
When the wanderer returns,what does she bring you?The skull of a bald eaglepicked clean, white and flightless.You call it Icarus,and wax rolls down like tearsas she writes you epic songsabout the refuge of the roads,and you think she’s finally home,but her mind is constantlyon travelling, travelling, travelling,a personal odyssey,not a false alarm. Kim M. Russell, […]
Cyclorama
Nature creates her own panoramicmural on the inner surface of my mind,and I am immersed in a manicexplosion of life in forest, garden, orchard,overflowing with the language of spring.It is no April Fool’s trick.A tunnel of branches,punctuated with lime green buds,leads me into the wonder of Mother Earth,a cyclorama of birth and rebirth. Kim M. […]
Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer
She was a woman painted in oilagainst a glittering of gold leaf,one of a number of beautiful,wealthy, bourgeois Viennese.She became sacred and magical,posed on a golden chair, mergingwith the golden geometricalpatterns of her dress, almost fadinginto the canvas, not theatricalbut melancholic and aloof,one could say vulnerableamong triangles, eggs and eyes. Kim M. Russell, 31st March […]
writing in north norfolk 