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.’

BLOODLETTING BY ERIC SYRDAL

BLOODLETTING
by
Eric Syrdal

warrior ERIC

Once again
She
summoned to this place
against her will
never shy from battle
never austere in the face
of consequence
ever rising up against
that which would seek
to pin a name tag on her
significance
yet again she finds
she is brought back
to answer for deeds of which
she is guiltless
the crime lies
in the drawing of steel
ambition to claim
far beyond what the universe
decides is available
pursuit of oneness of mind
control over her vital organs of reproduction
more so
to decide
reliant upon her own free will
to cover her curves
behind plates of iron
hard armor protects supple skin
from the caustic glare of
an angry and jealous world
or might she
remove her breastplate
and cast it to the earth
her vorpal blade
slicing effortlessly through
the hide straps that
cling it to her
the metal clanging to the
ground and growing cold
devoid of contact
with her breasts
that now
wear a glossy sheen of saltwater
and rise and fall with determined breaths
once
in the golden days of her youth
and amid the roar of pitched battle
she was a flash of a blade
in the midday sun
she moved like the rippling air
over an open flame
none cast upon her
a withering glance of disdain
none dared to draw her ire
nor to tempt her martial prowess
Now
on this stage
in the light of her will to be
free…
free of torment
so readily clothed
in the excitement
of past lives
She turns her sword
to butchers work
carving cleanly
and fluidly
with surgical precision
she sets about her task
carefully
an apothecary
She now assumes the role
of healing her soul
she places the razor-sharp blade
on the ground next to her
within this arcane circle
on her knees
the echo of her battle cry
like rolling thunder
she holds aloft
the throbbing septic organ
She watches the crimson drops
of Life’s honey roll down her arms
her heart
seized in her own hands
She squeezes
and marvels at
the ruby pools of dreams
that collect in her greaves
and run over
onto the thirsty earth
of this battlefield

Biography:
Eric Syrdal is an independent poet/author. He’s an avid gamer and SciFi enthusiast. He enjoys reading science fiction and fantasy literature and spends a great deal of his writing time focused in those genres. He is from New Orleans, Louisiana, where he lives with wife and two children.

ink submission

First Guest Writer on Ink and Quill: K. Morris

k.MORRIS

It is with great excitement, I would like to introduce my first feature guest on Ink and Quill. Author, writer and poet Kevin Morris from New Author Online. It is honour to feature Kevin. Please follow the links to read more of Kevin’s work.

NAME:
Kevin Morris
COUNTRY:
United Kingdom
AGE:
47

Please tell us a little about yourself:
I was born in Liverpool on 6 January 1969, a year best known for my birth and a relatively minor event known as the moon landing! Having attended school in Liverpool, I went on to read history and politics at University. Having obtained my BA, I went on to gain a MA in political theory.
I moved to London in 1994 and live near Crystal Palace, where my home overlooks a large garden and an historic park.

When did you first start writing?
I began writing in 2012.

 

“I write to express myself. One must scratch an itch, otherwise it will drive you insane!”

 

Where do you find your writing motivation and inspiration?
I draw inspiration from nature and my inner self. The singing of birds, the wind on my face and the scent of newly fallen leaves all inspire me to write, as do my observations of current affairs.

What are your current projects?
I am currently working on the publication of a print edition of my book, “Lost In The Labyrinth Of My Mind”. “Lost” constitutes my latest collection of poetry and is currently available in ebook format.

poetry ebook

Writers/poets who inspire and influence your own writing?
I am inspired by many poets including the 19th century English poet Ernest Christopher Dowson, A E Housman and Emily Dickinson, to name but a few.

Have you any published works, or do you plan on publishing in the future?
I have published the following works:

“Dalliance; A Collection Of Poetry And Prose”,

“The First Time”,

“The Suspect And Other Tales”,

“An Act Of Mercy”,

“Sting In The Tail”,

“Samantha”,

“Lost In The Labyrinth Of My Mind”,

“Street Walker,”

“The Girl Who Wasn’t There And Other Poems”.

For information regarding my books please visit my blog’s “About” page.

What process did you go through to get your book published?
I self published my books using Amazon’s Kindle Direct Publishing (KDP) facility, which is available to anyone wishing to publish their work.

Tell us about your writing process:
I prefer writing in the morning when I’m firing on all cylinders. I do, however also write during the afternoon and, on occasions in the evening. I find it difficult to write with background noise and prefer total silence (other than the singing of birds which gives me great pleasure).
Being registered blind, I use screen reading software called Jaws, which converts text into speech and braille enabling me to use a standard Windows computer.

Do you have a specific writing style/genre?
I have written several collections of short stories and one long short story entitled “Samantha”. My preferred genre is poetry and my time is now spent composing poems rather than short stories or flash fiction.

Do you have any advice for other writers?
Don’t get discouraged, and believe in yourself.

Please share your favourite piece/s with us and a brief description of the inspiration behind it:
During the Christmas break (December 2015), I visited my mum and her partner in Liverpool. While there I went for a walk with my guide dog, Trigger. The evening was closing in and leaves blew around my feet. The blowing of the leaves reminded me of the fragility of life which lead to the composition of my poem,

Leaves Blown At Night

Leaves blown at night.
Delight
Sorrow.
This moment we borrow
And think of a tomorrow
That may never come.
We run
Perchance have fun
Then, ‘Tis done”
My poem, “Shall I Compare Thee” came to me while out walking with my dog and I wrote it down on returning home:
“Shall I compare thee to a prickly pear?
Thou art more fair
Than the wild rose
That in thorny profusion grows.
There the bee goes
Then stings my nose”. .