Amazon Queen – Revised

The sky sleeps

 in the soft flow of night

The wind whispers under a cloak 

of black and gold,

She glitters below the leaves, 

 of broad-leaved evergreens 

Above the canopy, rain falls

Of turquoise hues 

and silky moss 

faerie orchids stalk

Her heart line like an exotic 

capillary-flower 

Etched, deeply profound

A kapok, 

tendrils strangling its host,

leaving behind a haunted fig 

A ghostly fog –
Sensually, night slips into dawn

Burnt orange 

sunrise 

She, the protector

of all that are gone

Singing a warrior song – 

Dazzling Queen of the Amazon.

Words J.Calvert written 2016, revised 2017. 

Winter’s Final Note-Revised

Winters Final Note In sleet and snow the land stretched below and the cold earth moaned a mournful cry The skies overhead bleed in white – drops fall beneath a sinking sky, harrowing unspoken sighs Running rivers rest in silver … Continue reading

Tonight, Send Me A Warrior King

 

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Tonight,
My enemy lies beside,
under the cover of night,
A little slice of heaven,
desire to roam my body, passion to clutch my throat,
lips wet with promise, lust never tasted so divine,
savoured like forbidden fruit, I bite with greed,
leave behind teeth marks
and a throbbing wound

Tonight,
send me a man,
a bold one,
a warrior king,
I need a fighter, someone who’s not afraid to sin,
a solider looking for a fight,
to combat under the sheets,
we will battle through to dawn,

Tonight,
is all we have,
tomorrow you can leave,
I’ll be finished with you by three,
we can be nemeses,
in the light of day,
but under the cloak of darkness,
you will be mine.

Tonight, you’ll stay.

@JCALVERT 2016, REVISED 2017

Sensual-Art-Photography-Couple-Intimate-photo-4

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To Kiss A Girl – Revised

I’ve always wondered

What it’d be like,
to kiss the lips, of a girl,
Soft and smooth,
like my own,
open and ripe;
the arc of her lips
pressed against the curve of my tongue,
to please
and feel the stir,
to stroke and suffer,
the sensations – textures of silky skin,
of two hearts beating in perfect applause,
to thread and tie,
the gather, of her strings,
the grip of her curiosity,
dearly – grasping my wrists,
in heated desire
our bodies dripping wet,
bound between curiosity and knowing
our bodies, to discover
each extinguished edge,
on the threshold, of the end,
to shake and tremble, delicate in our adore,
what it’d would be like,
to kiss a girl.

@J.CALVERT WRITTEN IN 2016, REVISED IN 2017.

To Wear Our Scars?

 

There is a scar
that covers about three inches of skin
on soft tissue,
just above your breast,
it runs a jagged line
it reminds me of a flower vine
creeping up your neck,
faded in time
a silver tattoo left,

Does it feel different on the tongue?
I run my lips across the serrated point
Quickening with every lick,
Each mark holds a depth untold
I feel a beating pulse within –
more than just a hollow organ;
a heart of its own
flowing in feelings.

This scar that is visible
carried upon your chest
weighing too heavy
for you to undress
like a photograph –
a moment never forgotten.
A permanent welt.
A visible form.

If the scar wasn’t there to remind you?
Could you forget it?

Thoughts

It’s been on my mind –the idea of a scar. We all have scars. Some are visible, some hidden and those buried so deeply, that we are ourselves are shocked to find they are there.

Does wearing our scars in different ways affect our-self?
Do we carry them for everyone to see?
Or hide them so deeply, that we forgot them, for a time.

Because even if we bury our burdens, they have a way of resurfacing.
Is it better to wear our scars?

WRITTEN BY J.CALVERT 2016

ALL PHOTOGRAPHS BELONG TO TALENTED PHOTOGRAPHER ANNA O.PHOTOGRAPHY 2015

Poetry by Kim M. Russell

Poetry by K M. Russel

Hands

When he reached out to take her hand,
She knew it was the start
Of his journey to her heart:
Their worlds collided,
Hands touched,
Sculpting her skin
With fingertips
And his lips
Reading each scar,
Each line on her palm;
Smoothing cracks
And callouses,
Healing the broken
Heart in her open
Hands.

Summertime

I long for the sunshine of another climate
But cannot stand the agonising wait,
The jostle of station and airport queues,
And tourists who obstruct the views.
Instead,
I hide inside
From rainy grey,
Waiting for the flash
Of random rays,
Any hint of sunny days.
At last,
I smell the gentle singe
Of sun upon my winter skin
And, without hesitation,
Haul a chair into the garden,
A book tucked underneath my arm
And,
In my hand,
A glass of wine,
Cerise and sweet,
Licence to bask in summertime.

Rain in Vallagrina Valley

Sticky with kisses of raindrops,
The town overflows with red rooftops,
Splintering like slabs of toffee
On the slopes of Vallagrina Valley.
Ghostly bells in each church tower,
Mumble and mutter on the hour,
Warning every square and alley:
A storm is brewing in the valley.
Mountains choke with fermenting cloud
And thunder threnody echoes loud.
Umbrellas mushroom in the streets,
For daily errands cannot wait.
Puddles and overflowing gullies
Are typical in Vallagrina Valley.

 

BIO

My name is Kim M. Russell, my website is Writing in North Norfolk and I live in Norfolk, England, not far from the North Sea coast: the perfect place for inspiration. I have been writing poetry since I was a teenager, a very long time now. When I lived in Germany, I wrote in German and English, and had several poems published. Now I write only in English, with a few translations now and again.
Until a few years ago, I was teaching at a high school and didn’t have much time for writing, but since I’ve retired, it seems like I can’t stop! I’m in the process of revising a novel for children, set in Second World War Two London; I’m half-way through a young adult novel set on the North Norfolk coast; and I’ve started developing another young adult novel set in Norwich.

 

‘My first love will always be poetry.’

A Beautiful Mind

Behind a door

of vintage rust

and sterling frame

the light stretched

in hues of golden rays,

Beneath the threshold

fraught,

featherlike

and silent

a little box

of household goods,

packaged into

a square,

telling of a life once lived,

Tears of sorrow

vanquished

her eyes wide

open and knowing

hands of yesterday’s grasp,

creeping,

slipping from her throat,

she released

all that kept her

concealed

the bars of society bled

and the walls became paper-thin

the whispers grew into screams

and she knew it only

as a beautiful lie

soothed in

and soaked in

honeyed minds.

J.CALVERT 2016

SET ME FREE

Melted Tallow

The edges of the paper

burn

loosely twisted cord

smouldering in the dark

melted tallow

and vanilla plum

the heat overcomes

the smoked-filled room

washes down her throat

shadowing windpipes

suffocating her lungs

sickly-sweet intoxication

the script melts

ink and promises  

dissolve into night

black smoke left hovering

entwined

the words of her lover

lost

the oil lamp burns on.

J.CALVERT 2016

Wild Hearts

OUR WILD HEARTS

CROSSED AND STITCHED

RUNNING DOWN THE STREAM

ARCOSS THE JAGGED EDGES

AND THROUGH THE FERN TREES.

J.CALVERT 2016

Flowing like clean lines

of water

clear and abundant

in natures spring,

Languid against the flow of the river

In sleepy depths

of sorrow,

teeming with tomorrows promise.

She knows not where she is going,

her vision impaired

blinded by the glare,

of the highlights and the shadows

cast far and wide

across her tired eyes

The path

wild and overgrown

cherubs and ferns turn

inwards

and welt under the sun,

The wildness of her heart

crushed

unveiled

altered

outwards

feeling the cool grip of the river run.

 

 

 

 

 J.CALVERT 2016