Summer lingers: a few green leaves the colour of basil and fennel seed in thyme-scented September hedges; a flurry of saffron around the edges of a stilted, shrivelled sunflower; unharvested corn, a dirty ochre, and moon-yellow unmown grass gild autumn. A mural of flavour, a kaleidoscope of colour. Kim M. Russell, 20th September 2022 Tuesday […]
Tag: Tuesday Poetics
Sturmfrei
Free of storms, to be alone, to do what needs to be done, to wander in the dormiveglia, from dawn to dusk and back again, I am content to swallow phosphenes, each scintilla, until ēniteō! I shine forth with gleaming light. Kim M. Russell, 6th September 2022 Another, shorter poem for this week’s dVerse Poets […]
Feuillemort
These first cool mornings are redolent with fallen apples’ sweet, rotten scent and dry grass littered with foliage. Flowers fade; leaves turn from green to brown with nothing in between, and crops gave up weeks ago. But this is not autumn. Nature’s grabbing what she can, counting the souls of every aliferous foliole before abandoning […]
Season of Choice
‘No blue without yellow and without orange, and if you do blue, then do yellow and orange as well, surely’ – Vincent van Gogh Spring is always fresh and new with gentleness of pastel hues so delicate, tender, newly born on a gentle, breezy, sunny morn. But autumn still retains the blue of summer skies, […]
Tingle
In this stifling heat I conjure up the redolence of forest snow, the ice-trapped secrets of moss and fern, and the tingling overtone of pine – how I long to bottle it, make it mine. Kim M. Russell, 23rd August 2022 For this week’s Tuesday Poetics our guest host is Jo, also known as Worms, […]
Lion Tongue
I trail scorch marks in my wake as I breach each firebreak. My voracious carnassials devour every blade of grass and flower, the leaves on every shrub and tree. Once I charge, there’s no stopping me. But when you feel the biting chill of winter coming over the hill, you embrace my crackle and roar; […]
Tell Me True
My grandmother always peeled an apple with grandfather’s penknife, careful, keeping it all in one piece. I watched it twirl and curl, with a whiff of sweetness, pinched between her fingers. She taught me a rhyme, that we said every time: apple peel, apple peel, tell me true, who am I going to get married […]
Tread Gently
Tread gently in this skyscape,where a single cloud can weighheavy on the soul. Some escape;cumulonimbi the shade of sludgebluster grumpily across the skyuntil the sun sets, and blackbirds trill in hedges. An owl hoots a reply,to a distant barking dog.It is then that I see dead people, looming like vaporous fog,and left-over dust and gasestransform […]
Ode to Dylan Thomas
You did not go gentle through your life, knocked hard for flesh to let you enter, soul-shaken by your mother and your wife, thistledown-free and unafraid of winter. You, self-confessed gusty man and a half, languished in whisky and bitter-sweet ale, like the Dewi singing, ready with a laugh and a rhyme like a spouting […]
Indigo
They called her Indigo, not the name of a goddess, but Greek all the same, meaning Indian dye. She’s the turning of twilight, the tint of an iris that blooms in the garden or the depth of an eye. Her name gives her freedom to stride where she pleases in new jeans the blue of […]
writing in north norfolk 