It is on such days as thesethat I love to be beside the sea, watching rollers hit the shore,Nature’s power, nothing more than waves and wind, and turnstonestripping and skipping among fishbones, seaweed and shells, not unlike Sisyphus,pushing, shoving, turning – showing us not how our lives must be, but howtenacity can get us from […]
Tag: Tuesday Poetics
Why a Pear Tree?
Why would I bein a pear tree?On the first dayof Christmas, too.I am a farm bird,a runner in fields,and wouldn’tappeal to you.I’m not as brightas a pheasant,and not quiteas cute as a quail;my body is grey,but my face is pleasant,blushing reddish, the same as my tail. Kim M. Russell, 12th December 2023 Image by Bruce […]
Clair de Lune
The lightest note breaksspace with crystal notes and takesmy breath away, like snowflakes spinning around my free-falling soul. Piano keysreverberate and echo in D, cascading angst-filled arpeggiosin a swelling tide of melancholia,a swirling musical oceanus. A spree of naked notes delightspeaking into rolling notesof sadly serious moonlight. And when it’s over, silence glistenswith spectral music […]
Give me a poem
give me a poem that tinkleslike goldfinches or thundersin a moor-gallop that beats like the wings of geeseor, on an early spring morning, dropsand drips like icicles that whistles in a windy aspen groveor stirs warm air like lacewingsand buzzing bees give me a poem that tumblesthe heart or ripplesthe soul please Kim M. Russell, […]
Avocado
The alligator pear, or avocado,has a green, leathery rindand flesh that’s soft and blanduntil you add jalapeño,a handful of chopped tomato,and a squeeze of lime. Mash it with a fork,add a splash of tabascoand you will concurthat the avocadomay have skin like an alligator,but it’s sweet and creamy as a pear. Kim M. Russell, 14th […]
Buckets
I would love to return to the seasideon a sixties time machine ride,where my sister and I used to playwith our plastic buckets and spades. I would feel the sand between my toes,watch the waves crash on the stones,and run down to the sea to fill my bucketwith water to pour in our sandcastle’s moat. […]
On reading Heaney’s ‘Gifts of Rain’
The recent rain has left puddles,cars shower walkers with chilly wavesand tractors churn up mud. Burst riverbanks leave us in a muddle,fields and gardens lost, animals to save,as we wrangle with the flood. On the other side of the world it’s dry,all moisture wrung out, no dripping taps,just an arid cough of dust. There’s not […]
Survivors in a Ruined City
We hide while bombs destroy our homes,mothers and children hunkeredin the dust of a city reduced to its bare bones. Men came, destroyed and, conscienceless,fled the scenes of devastation; they aregone while we survivors are hopeless, watching the afterbirth of jet contrailsstill fading in the silent sky.It will take years to clear the city of […]
Grief Crows
The last of the wildflowershas faded, the air is pregnant with the first breath of falling leaves, and long grass is meshed with violet splashes, commonknapweed on common ground. A glance overhead reveals something flapping, a black glove or a hand, waving, first oneand then another, keeping close, mime artists skittering – […]
Tureen
The tureen is porcelain and deepand filled with thick and creamy soup.The scent is spicy and aromatic,the colours vivid and chromatic,with orange carrot and butternut squash,silver onion, green celery, a red flashof chilli flakes in a constellation,and floating planets of crunchy crouton.The ladle sits in its shiny groove,waiting for one of us to make a […]
writing in north norfolk 