Pools of Longing Sara L Russell, July 9th, 03:11am That it might come back to me, that sweet sensation, When i would reach out my arms across the cool light blue ripples and push off from the side. Then would i glide out across the water, as a white crane glides across the sunset, as a white cloud hurries brightly on a warm southerly breeze. There are trees when I go walking; butterflies and wild flowers too. They seem comfort enough for a short time, in parklands and along the lanes. There are trains I may never ride on, there are buses I am still rethinking, There is time enough for drinking in the the cafes and the bars; But oh my stars, what would I give to go back swimming, gliding weightless once again, free as the birds that skim the sky.

WHEN DREAMS GO VIRAL: 
Poems About COVID19 Lockdown, UK.


Biorhythms.
c. Sara L Russell 23/4/20
_____________________________________

When it’s eight o clock in the evening
and all is calm and still
the birds are singing their goodnight songs
and the air has a deepening chill.
I am almost inclined to believing
things are just as they once were
when we didn’t quite notice the bird’s songs
and time passed somewhat of a blur.

When it’s eight o clock in the morning
I may calmly be lying in;
a few cars slide by on the road outside
as I wait for the day to begin.
I am almost inclined to be worried
that today will be like yesterday;
yet the past gave each day something different
and our lives gave us something to say.

 Making The Best of It
Sara L Russell 17/4/20 (with video below)
_____________________________________

Make time for oatmeal

slap it on your face

A mask is always useful

Think about Mindfulness

enter the id

explore the more spiritual

Get into baking

throw nothing away

cut your own hair

A virtual pub quiz

almost the same

as being there

So here is Friday

a bit like Thursday

by another name

Here is a message

stay home save lives

be good, play the game

Here comes a baldy

With cold dead eyes

to tell you again

Here’s a comedian

saying the same thing

but makes it a joke

There’s good little children

there’s a good housewife

that’s a good bloke

Spring is forbidden

summer is cancelled

commerce has died

So dance in your bedroom

sing into your hairbrush

Pretend they all lied.

When Dreams Go Viral

Sara L. Russell, 31/3/20

_____________________________________

 

I will haunt those tree-lined avenues again

I will watch white seagulls circling in the sky 

I will once more see the Leidseplein in rain

Let this cocoon unfold its wings and fly

I’ll rebuild that club the council had pulled down

dust off my leather trousers and boot chains

I will browse the market stalls of Camden town 

Go on short bus rides; long trips on fast trains

I will wander free amid the aftermath

I’ll claw back all that seemed so out of reach

Swim in that rooftop pool again, in Bath

Throw pebbles out to sea on Brighton beach.

When freedom comes to grant us one last wish

When once more people meet, to drink and dance

You’ll be a dried-up smear on a petrie dish,

worn down and stripped of all significance.

Horses for Courses:

Sara L Russell 30/3/20

 _____________________________________

So you went a bit stir crazy

The police all know your name

cause you sneaked out twice to Sainsb’rys

and you’ve only you to blame

so you try to go out walking

in a blonde wig for disguise

but you’ve got the neighbours talking

and even trees have eyes

And some pubs are playing lock-in

when they’re meant to be locked down

the rebellion is shocking

Throughout this deadbeat town

Don’t bother with explaining

if they catch you outside twice;

whether it’s sun or raining

you will have to pay the price.

I guess one mustn’t grumble

when one’s home becomes a jail

Just have an apple crumble

or some eggs laid by a quail

one might well pay a visit

to one’s Mummy, on FaceTime,

From Balmoral exquisite

To Buckingham sublime.

Exercise Yard

Sara L Russell 11/4/20 at 03:37am

 _____________________________________

My path may be smaller

but it is strewn with flowers.

They cannot confiscate the spring.

In the small hours between

waking and sleeping

I find things to do

Between guessing and knowing

from planning to improvised

few things make sense any more

So I walk a shorter way round

and I forget not to admire‹

the blue flowers that festoon my path.

 

 

The Vampire Love Sonnets
by pinkyandrexa aka Sara L. Russell
10th April 2011.

I: Awaken (Miranda, to Adam)

“The night-black hair framing your lovely face,
The petal-softness of your frozen cheek;
My fingertips and lips desire to trace
The outline of this throat that leaves me weak.
Your pale, sleek body, sprawled across the bed,
Majestic; so alluring by moonlight.
More beautiful, belonging with that head,
With dreams of sanguinary love tonight.
Incense and opium sweeten the air,
Your softly-parted lips invite my kiss;
Your clothes lie neatly-folded, on the chair,
All my immortal nights were lived for this!”



II: Dark Angel (Adam, to Miranda)

“A sudden vision overwhelms my eyes;
Some fallen angel; dangerously-wild,
Above my bed, while outside, stormy skies,
Bring me to tremble, like a helpless child.
Dark angel, I know not from whence you came,
Or why you hover over me tonight,
Yet all my senses burn to sigh your name;
My skin’s enraptured where your hands alight.
Whether I be in heaven or in hell,
I care not; all that matters is your touch.
Then let me burn for having loved too well,
Or punish me when passion proves too much.
Dear lady, I shall fall without a fight.
Come, let me be enslaved to you this night.”


III: Arise

He kissed her as she sank against his chest,
Sighed deeply as she bit his tender throat,
Pulling him close; and with him closely-pressed,
Listened in awe, to every shivered note;
To every gasp that tried to form her name,
While yet they writhed together on the bed;
Until at last her feral beast lay tame,
Soon to arise – deliciously undead.
Anon he opened wide his sea-green eyes,
Whose pupils flashed with fire of scarlet hue;
Anon he smiled, with fangs feline in size -
Most mischievous of smiles she ever knew.
“Sweet lover, I am risen out of death”
He murmured, with his first immortal breath.

V: Baptism of Blood

He rose to the occasion once again,
Then twice again, as most immortals can;
Delighting in pleasure suffused with pain,
Knowing she made him more than just a man.
They drank deep of each other’s crimson blood,
Blood-brother-to-blood-sister, intermixed;
All time seemed endless, lost in passion’s flood,
Until they lay spent, face-to-face, transfixed.
“Adam” she whispered “will you stay with me?”
She waited silently for his reply.
“Miranda, I’m ensnared eternally”
His answer came surrendered through a sigh.
And though vampire lovers often play rough,
This skirmish led its combatants to love.

IV: Fresh Blood (Adam, to Miranda)

“Miranda, sweet Miranda, come away,
Night creatures play, the breeze whispers your name;
Come out with me before night yields to day,
And daylight brings its all-consuming flame.
Long moments spent at leisure by your side
Rendered me weak; soon comes the searing thirst.
Fresh blood awaits our pleasure now, outside;
Come hunting, else this racing heart may burst.
Miranda, how my hunger aches for you,
Ask for my blood and I would give it all.
Love is more beautiful for being true;
Come out Miranda, answer to my call!
The portal to the garden’s open wide,
Love, come away, into the great outside.”

VI: First Flight

Miranda lifted up her dreaming head
Pushed back her heavy locks of flame-red hair,
Flew from the rosewood casket of her bed
As dust motes scattered in the moonlit air.
“Methinks I hear sweet love calling my name”
She murmured, floating to the window sill,
“And lovers were not all fashioned the same;
My kiss created you, and draws you still.”
She fluttered through the open chamber doors
Into the coolness of the breath of night,
Towards the voice of he whom she adores
To where she and her lover still take flight.
They kissed beneath the stars, and very soon,
Flew off into the pale light of the moon.

 
 Published in Poets of Blood Volume 2: Bleeding For a Cause
 (paperback) on Oct 11th, 2011.

The Perils of Norris Cartoon: Absinthe Fairy Adventure...

From the Poetry Life & Times Cartoon, The Perils of Norris. The Absinthe Fairy Adventure.

The Ire of Spiritual Fire

Sara L. Russell, 20/10/04 1:50am


Yea, we shall seek them in
their dwelling places
and verily shall we light fires under their feet.
For here be witches, their warlocks,
the faithless and fallen,
who maketh fair speech unto their cats;
who art the very mouthpieces and ears
of Satan, whose beginnings were wiccanings
rather than Christenings.
We shall burn them in the holy fire
of Righteousness,
and inter their ashes in un-hallowed ground,
For rightly do the pure in heart hate them,
these sons and daughters of the Fallen One.


  Yes, we shall seek them in
  their places of commerce,
  fly planes of fire into their towers.
  For here are warlords, their bankers,
  their clerks and accountants,
  the infidel rabble,
  who babble their speeches to minions;
  who are the very cogs and wheels
  of Capitalism, whose ancient crusades
  were parades of mere machismo.
  We shall burn them in the eternal fires
  of Holy War,
  Scatter their ashes to the four winds,
  For rightly do we labour against them,
  These men and women of The Great Satan.


Yes, we shall find them with
our Own Seeking*,
and a Great Fire shall rage in our Inferno.
For here are Terrorists, Murderers,
Hoods and Barbarians,
Who speak only Verbally* in the Propaganda
of their State-Controlled Channels;
which are the very speaking Mouthpieces
of Evil and Terror, whose broadcasters
protect the Terrorists.
We shall purge them in the Holy Fire
of Justice,
For rightly do we nuke the Hell out of Iraq,
and those Sons and Daughters of Bitches.


(*phrases in the style of Bush-isms)