She lurks in the shadows, her grey-brown trunk short, furrowed and corky, long branches pointy winter wands, charming icicles, writing spells with frost and disappearing into mist. She has already drawn the path of winter’s exile in her elder scrolls, plotted the return of spring with a joyful blossom blast: choirs of birds and drone […]
Tag: Tuesday Poetics
Unseen
I no longer need to hide in doorways and shadows – I’m one of the unseen. I’m a tatty pigeon faltering on feathers of memories. I’m a twisted old silver birch, invisible in moonlight. I’m a river with no audible ripple, grown lumpen and tufty, dried to a trickle and a tangle of reeds. I […]
Unfettered
Snowdrops bring (de) light to the darkest, coldest months of winter: one day, tentatively poking green heads through hard soil; the next, trickling into a snowdrift of white flowers, gentle harbingers of unfettered reproduction and the joyous riot of spring. Kim M. Russell, 29th January 2019 My response to dVerse Poets Pub Poetics: Harbinger, also […]
Tumbledown Shed
Weighted with ivy, tessellated with lichen and moss, the roof has splintered and caved in. Perhaps something has settled among the long-forgotten tools and pots – now homes for mice and spiders. Our sentinel by the rickety gate sheds flakes of peeling paint. The padlock key is long gone and its treasures remain hidden. Kim […]
Shedding Skin
The first time I shed skin, my tongue probed the blade of a new language, tasted unfamiliar vowels and consonants, bled new words and poems. The second time I shed skin, the words were mine but the tune was new, lilting and green. The last time I shed skin, the landscape taught me everything I […]
A Need to Know Basis
You need to know, I have a fragile muse fashioned from Venetian glass, blown out and close to shattering. Despite that, we climb aboard a gondola and enter the shadow of the Bridge of Sighs, sighing and shivering from the sudden chill. But Venice has its own poetry. The city knows which form to use […]
On the back of the bathroom door…
hangs the cosiest cardigan, the one I hug to me in the early morning; that embraces me while brewing the first cup of tea; that warms me as I write a chilly January poem; the one that shields me from the sneaky draught that evades the excluder and, unwarmed by the log burner, wraps itself […]
