I walk alone where hard pebbles roll beneath soft soles. The ocean is whipped and lacy waves, a mêlée of foamy white and foggy grey, chase across the sand, tickle toes, lisping at the fragile edge of solitude. Kim M. Russell, 27th March 2019 My response to Poets United Midweek Motif: Solitude Sumana says that […]
Tag: Poets United
Bright Grace
In the darkness of a November night, the autumn moon rose proud and bright, and so did you, my magical child, in a landscape green and wild. You were my ēlē every morning, the grace of light, of each day dawning, the most beautiful in Celtic lore, Gráinne, beloved, a mythical flower. Kim M. Russell, […]
Pigeon Steps
Throughout history, women have taken pigeon steps, played ‘What’s the time?’ with Mr Wolf, as if our feet were bound, crinolines rigid and tightly laced, ankles hidden – we knew our place. Now we have shredded ribbons, learnt to march and ride our bikes burnt bras and held on to property, paving the way to […]
Early Spring Landscape
We walk into a landscape where flowers light up verges, they peep between the hedge gaps, adorn churchyards and copses. Where flowers light up verges, the earth is not just greenscape, throughout churchyards and copses a spring colourwash escapes. The earth is not just greenscape, it glows with yellow urges; the spring colourwash escapes and […]
My Grandparents’ Neighbours
They lived in an urban terrace, side by side, with a stamp-sized front garden and somewhat larger one at the back, complete with washing line from fence to fence, a coal bunker and a tool shed. It took years to grow their individuality with roses. sweet-scented stock and peonies. They called each other by their […]
Goodbye Mundane Monday
I wake up early and greet another day, a mundane Monday, damp, cold and grey. Winter should be over, or so the buds tell me, there should be sunshine and daffodils. I watch a smoking feather, a skylark rising, and then a second hovers above the winter field – then another, and another ascend into […]
This Poem is a Hill, Indigo Water and Whiffling Geese
This poem is a distant hill. This poem is a welter of indigo water. This poem is geese whiffling overhead. This poem is a rolling, breaking wave of corn the colour of honeycomb, washing against the grassy spine of an ancient sleeping dragon, a landslide washed green. This poem is a distant hill. This poem […]
(Spring) Fun
finding shy snowdrops that arrive like little candles to light up the garden followed by skipping cats that brush my legs in a game of tag watching catkins wriggle their tails and cats in trees hearing the first cries of newborn lambs on the breeze picking out the songs of different birds outside the window […]
Dreams of Sap and Bark
They’d been whispering all night. I looked out of the bedroom window, hoping to catch them at it; I breathed in their beauty but all I heard was the hoot of an owl and the distant bark of a dog. This morning, when the moon had disappeared, I just knew they’d been awake all night […]
The Blossoming
Love begins as a bud, new, green and fragile, teased by the breeze and early morning dew. Love begins to open, soft, shy and gentle, caressed by the breeze and the rising sun. Love bursts and blossoms, bright and transcendental, mingling spring scents and lovers’ breath. Love often withers, brown, dry and fearful, hoping that […]
writing in north norfolk 