She paints the landscape red and gold,cossets fruit, more than we can hold, silvers webs and tinkers with the lightonly to plunge us into wintry night. Her leafy folly flutters and decays,the fruits of her labour last but days, winter haunts her with ghostly mistand bids her goodbye with an icy kiss. Kim M. Russell, […]
Tag: Tuesday Poetics
Dreams by Candlelight
I fell asleepin the pale heatand candle salve of twilight,nodding to an open book. In a pellucid questfor hallowed rest,my yellow dreamsploughed lucid farrowstowards the sunriseof my tomorrow. Kim M. Russell, 20th October 2020 My response to dVerse Poets Pub Poetics: The Charms of Samuel Greenberg Laura is back to host Poetics this week, with […]
Maybe It’s Because…
I stared at stars printed on the sky, the solar system in all its glory, and thought back to another time, a different city when Wren designed the dome that stands so proud beside the Thames, the best of London’s pride. I wondered about all who stood inside, who marvelled at the golden Byzantine oculus, […]
Ballad of Dark Beauty
Her dress of bombazine was wrappedaround her mottled body like a shroud,her hair was winter-dark, a raven trappedin the violent weir, so cold and loud. She lived apart, contemptuous and proud,believed to be a wanton witch, a lonelywanderer on the heath, at one with cloud,rain, moon and stars. She was the only night dancer on […]
Tired But Thankful
You woke me upin the early hourswith your persistenceand your words. Now I’m upbefore the birds,brain whirring,fingers tapping, slave to the emphatic vatic. I’m tired but thankful,but an image would be useful,something ekphrasticto brighten up my dreams. Kim M. Russell, 29th September 2020 My response to dVerse Poets Pub Poetics: The Vatic Voice Lisa is […]
Thinking
Mother Nature fell asleep thinkingand her thoughts became dreamsinto rich, dark soil sinking. Nothing in this world is ever as it seemsand her fantasies took root,watered by rain and underground streams. By spring, the roots had given birth to shootsthat sought the warmth of the sun,and the shoots grew and began to produce stalks and […]
Late Developers
Those late developers stare with dull, black, accusing eyes,pale leaves still strive for the sun’s weakening rays, flowers that should track summer shiver into autumn days. Might they warm themselves on their own golden gaze? Still closed in sulky pouts in early morning haze,have they the strength to open in a blaze? Time casts longer shadows, […]
Self-Portrait with Hands
They have teased music from a classical guitar, woven brightly dyed wool into a winter knit, and pencilled themselves into a sketch. They cover my face now, as I pose before a speckled, frameless mirror tucked away, out of sight, under the stairs. She’s there, somewhere in the shadows, the one whose fingers plucked and […]
On the Soft Skin of the Underside
In the days of physical elasticity,instant sparks of electricityand youthful hunger,whether in daylight, twilight or moonlight,lips and teeth tended to tattoo and collide on the soft skin of the underside. Now I love to tangle in the copper hairon forearms, chest and belly, wherewinter frost has started to appear,but it is on the soft skin […]
Wheatfield with Crows
His paint oozed solitude and sadness. The turbulent brush almost fell from his hands. He knew it so well, this field of rude life and death, its diverging blood-rusted paths leading to the same horizon. The violent polarity of yellow field of wheat daubed in rows and blue sky smudged with clouds erupts with black […]
writing in north norfolk 