Poems are born as tiny flickers from diverse seeds of our imagination that germinate, sprout and quicken, ready to be planted in other people’s minds, where they can bloom and flower or they can droop and wither in the frost of poets’ winter: misinterpretation. Kim M. Russell, 2017 Image found on Pinterest My response to […]


She offers him ­           ­a bright red capsicum, a  lonely heart, filled with peppery seeds. She holds her breath, ­           bares delicate, perfumed skin, anticipates a sharp knife’s  sting: seeds are spilled, ­           her heart sliced and diced into a hot stew, a […]

Say it with Roses

On Friday night the doorbell rang. She opened up and there he stood, in his hands a sunset of roses, plump petals fragrant with promises. By Monday they had wilted, petals browning, stems slimy, pungent, sick with stagnant water, in a storm of greenfly. Kim M. Russell, 2017 Another poem in response to dVerse Poets […]

Wired for Sound

in the middle of a field eyes squeezed tightly shut mouth open wide fingers in ears sound is suspended now and then a motorbike roars and whines cars hum in the distance senses open to patch of blue taste of earth and thud of heart Kim M. Russell, 2017 My response to dVerse Poets Pub […]