In the machinations of the cosmos, we’re on Earth below and high above us a silver lunar eye and swirling stars. We expect the unexpected, even when we know seasons must come around again in Nature’s karmic puppet show. Comedy or tragedy, she writes the rules in moon-silvered chalk; she sings the songs while we […]
Tag: Tale Weaver
Growing Old
I may have a senior railcard and silver streaks in my hair, but my fallen leaves rustle and sing like the dancing leaves of early spring. No flying south for winter, I’m no grizzled, dingy skipper but a quiet blue or marbled white, gently fanning the paling light. When I pull on my Dr Marten’s […]
10th August 2017
Like a soft-boiled egg cracked with a spoon, thoughts dribble and congeal. Grey clouds are drifting candle smoke. Mocked by the drooping willow, I gaze past my reflection in the window: another birthday and autumn’s on its way. Kim M. Russell, 2017 Image found on Pinterest My response to Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Tale Weaver # 131 […]
Desk Lamp Blues
Due to the way you bend my neck, leave me craning, I can only catch a glimpse of you swimming in the early morning shadow that surrounds my white halo. Your fingers tap and eyes stare as you lean back in the creaky chair between sips of sweetly pungent raspberry tea, completely disregarding me when […]
Honey Moon
whoever it was who said that the moon is made of cheese had never tasted the sweetness of a honey moon, a hive for bees that swarm and honey-comb the brightest constellations, pollinating coy comets and falling stars Kim M. Russell, 2017 My response to Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Tale Weaver 116 – The Moon Today the Tale […]
Taste…
buds in mouth and flowers, a saporous feast of flavours: pizza erupts, a volcano of chilli, garlic and oregano; zingy ginger tea cleanses busy gustatory senses; an unripe plum, quite sour, not the buttery-sweet ambrosia of a nectarine or peach, because the riper, plumper ones were out of reach. Kim M. Russell, 2017 Images found on […]
Peregrine
Scimitar wings cut through the air: falcon of kings watching, a silent movie villain twitching his black moustache. Dark and angular, this fearsome hunter hangs motionless. Tail clenched, closing wings into a stoop, he bullets towards his prey, banks and shoots away out of sight. Kim M. Russell, 2017 Image found on Pinterest My response […]
Spring Kiss
Beneath grey globules of suspended mist, in her callow youth and nakedness, Spring is waiting to be dressed. Her limbs are undernourished, scraggy and bare under the winding cloth of winter, as yet no flowers in her hair. We are drawn to the warmth of her exhaled air, her scent of early blooming heather and […]
Lost Soul
I am a wavering moth, a dusty Hebrew character, inky like my name. I am lost in the night, fluttering and in flames but drawn towards the light. Feeding on fluff and shadows, I sleep among the living and wake up with the dead, when beating hearts are unforgiving to souls that have been bled. […]
Magic Words
When I’m safely cuddled up on a grown-up’s lap, I listen to the secret words that they often whisper in case a wicked witch is near, in the dark where she can hear. Words like once upon a time or the chorus of a nursery rhyme carry me off to other lands, to fairy wings […]
writing in north norfolk 