the end, not just the prelude to the death of April, but the final word, the last amen? Tomorrow Is a fresh sheet of paper for another poem, a breezy tune for a new song, the first breath of the first day of the rest of your life, to do with what you want. I’ll […]
Tag: Play It Again
Almost (a love story)
almost burned her fingers as she watched a flame consume a match almost to its end almost cried at the pain that didn’t come but the tears were welcome anyway almost fell in love with the man who struck the match that lit her (almost) last cigarette almost kissed him on the lips before the […]
Reading is No Sin
I’ve never heard a mockingbird, a New World multilingual, and I’ve never seen one fly. But I have climbed inside numberless books, read numberless words, breathed numberless characters’ lives, walked around in their skin and thought their thoughts. Characters are the only kind of folk I ever felt comfortable with, willingly lent my reader’s ear, […]
Served from the Heart (revisited)
l u r […]
A Moment
I took a real moment, not a virtual corona one, to step out into the garden, under cover of the darkest night. White noise and rustle of leaves – the only human sound was the distant hum of tyre on tarmac, a delivery truck perhaps. It was quiet and so dark I could not see […]
Heavy Suitcase
They took away my suitcase. There wasn’t much in it: a book to read, clean underwear, a nice dress for visiting hours (no one ever comes) and church on Sundays, moisturising cream for my hands and face. I didn’t think I’d be here long. Now I need to fill it with the weight of nightmare […]
Tesselated
honeycomb hexagons too narrow for fingers but just right for bees conjuring honey from pollen tidy and tessellated sticky-sweet Kim M. Russell, 24th April 2020 My response to Imaginary Garden with Real Toads NaPoWriMo Day 24 Play it Again in April 2020: Wild Woman’s Natural Wonders On Wednesday 24th April, 2019, Sherry inspired us with […]
Shakespeare’s Women
If I were to save a piece of Will, from all the pleasure he has given me, I’d need the wit of Beatrice to sway my choice and the cunning of the Nurse to keep it to myself: the women who populate his plays, living on today in modern Mirandas and Violets, Ophelias, Lady Macbeths, […]
Hitchhikers on the Wind
It starts with an ephemeral puff of delicate seed-heads in a child’s hand, waiting for the wind, hitchhikers free to take sunshine wherever they land. A dandelion may start life as a fragile seed, a tickle in a downy clock a drifter on a breeze, but it can crumble paving stones and rock and, before […]
Daphne
Free to flow in fountains, wells and streams, I was not one to flaunt my naiad beauty, and was bound to Peneus by daughterly duty. I loved to swim and dive, I felt alive in water, still or flowing, crystal clear as my virginity, innocent to the onslaught of male potency. But gods are gods […]
writing in north norfolk 