COP 28 (The Sultan’s Got His Hat On)

The Sultan's got his hat on,(Hip-hip-hip, hooray!)his presidential hat onat the conference today And we've all got the gas onthat's how it's going to stayit's freezing here, but have no fearthe heat is on its way... If all developed nationscan have their wicked waythey'll get the poorer nations hooked on oil and gas - hooray! There's... Continue Reading →

‘Winter’s Margin:’ reading from To Catch a Poem

Today, I would like to present a short reading from my forthcoming pamphlet, To Catch a Poem. I wrote 'Winter's Margin' around this time last year, and, once again, it seems appropriate to the season. There are references to Wordsworth's 'Intimations of Immortality’ and Blake's 'Book of Thel’ woven into the poem.

A poem I wish I could write

You are a poem I wish I could writeby the light of the moon, while you’re holding me tight;in the sweet hours of dawn, huddled close to your skinthis is how we begin, this is how we begin… You are the magic on Midwinter's eveand the prayer for redemption in which we believein the darkest... Continue Reading →

Like Fire

Like fireLike flame Like waterLike breathing  Like faithLike hopeLikeSomething to believe in Like ashLike rubbleLikeRuins of a city Like slaughter Like laughterLikeDrowning, absolutely  Cease fireCease firePleaseEvacuate civilians This ireLike fireHas alreadyMurdered millions

Park Broom

The journey seems to take almost forever despite the fast-flowing currents of the water from Wetheral, to Park Broom down the river where, in your wake, wandering, walks a daughtertrying to piece the afterlife together from Wetheral, to Park Broom down the river. Thirty-three years is long enough to wonder about the current which carried you underBroomy Hill to... Continue Reading →

The Howling

The children to feed;all the bills still to payand the howling. The emails to answerthe things I should sayand the howling. "Remember tomorrowforget yesterday"says the howling: "You carry such sorrow?Then give it awayto the howling." Wind, sound, surrenderthe trees' dreadful swayto the howling Whisper, "Wake with the soundof a pure poetry"called the howling. With thanks... Continue Reading →

Word Rich, Cash Poor

Word rich, cash poor: some kind of way to live,don’t want that mental load weighing me down;to feel I have a world of wealth to give,yet possess little I might call my own. A whisper in the heart blooms on the lipsand greets the air in unforced exhalation, inspires the hand to flex the fingertipsin Hallelujah... Continue Reading →

Advance Review of ‘All Grown Up Now’

With three weeks to go until the release of Kim M. Russell's poetry pamphlet, All Grown Up Now, I bring you an advance review from Freya Pickard, author of The Kaerling. "A landscape of scents""Kim M Russell has a distinctive voice in this auto-biographical collection of poems. What struck me most were the olfactory descriptions... Continue Reading →

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