The scent of winter’s mellowed by the yeasty aroma of your fingers kneading dough. Now foliage covers the ground, the year fades from brown to grey, drawing in with early dusk. My stomach’s hollow with the taste of frost as I bite into the first slice of home-baked toast spread with butter soft and yellow […]
Tag: Tuesday Poetics
Field Fire
stubble still crackles burnt fields quiver their dry voices whisper in devastation’s backwind blackened trees shiver letting fly blackened bark and leaves – a whirlwind of charcoal and dust Kim M. Russell, 26th November 2018 My response to dVerse Poets Pub Poetics: Fire up that Creativity, also linked to Imaginary Garden with Real Toads Tuesday […]
Embers
once we spent all day in bed exploring without maps deep diving and emerging to kindle more desires lighting forest fires now we warm our hands on the embers of our fading skin basking in the afterglow Kim M. Russell, 20th November 2018 My response to dVerse Poets Pub Tuesday Poetics: Desire and Sexuality in […]
The Naked Touch
a stony coldness plucked from a beach fills my palm and overflows into each line and groove, pulling fingers into a claw – like a ring clasping a jewel sensitive tips trace dents and pocks knocked into it by waves and rocks pebbled acne smoothed by human caress, the stroke of skin wrinkles, calluses and […]
My Erewhon
Somewhere there is a world of poetry, music and stories, a concert of words playing together. This world has turned: the coconut scent of gorse that burned in the haze of a summer morning has become frosty mist that creeps across fields and dims the glow of crimson berries. I am learning to live in […]
Once
Once upon a North Sea cliff, fragile skeletons chalky white and ghosts of spiralling ammonites exploded by the waterside. Teased by waves and torn by tides, the behemoth spilled its insides: with salty gush and rocky rumble, the towering cliffs began to tumble. Strewn among the shells and pebbles, bleached by sun and washed by […]
Necklace of Lights
An old-fashioned red London bus takes me back to childhood’s sleepy night-ride home from my grandparents house: sitting between Mum and Dad, bare legs on fuzzy seats, folding concertinas of paper tickets, hypnotised by the perfume of exhaust, rumble of engine, and the window’s black and empty gaze. I believed the stars – obscured by […]
