The ripening berries
Summer's last blaze
when her breath is of jasmine
and phlox is her sigh
Let me dream then,
of summer
and float through the haze
peaceful breath
bed of poppies
ceiling of blue sky


Let me float
like a feather
in the arms
of the breeze
Let me drift
like a leaf
on a tide, upstream
with the murmur of water
the soft hum of bees
in a garden
in peace
in sleep
in a dream


Send me love's angels
to watch at my bed
golden of voice
and silver of wing;
two at the far corners
two at my head
with my dreams
all of heaven
when softly
they sing


Send me a light
that can never grow dim
love, like a candle
to lighten my heart
empty my mind
of each worry and whim
and the ghosts
of nights demons
that tear me apart


Till I float
like a feather
in the arms
of the breeze
and drift
like a leaf
on a tide, upstream
love make me wise
through life's cruelties
sleep dry my eyes
make me still
let me dream.

by Sara L Russell
(For the casualties of Manchester Kennels, 12/9/14, 21:05)

Old trusty Bob, sure-footed in the lead,
Truffles and Sandy bringing up the rear;
And all the others, with no faith or creed,
Yet representing all that's loved and dear.

They run along the path to Paradise
To where no faithful hound need ever die;
A playful eagerness lights up their eyes,
As clouds and gliding seraphim go by.

Garlands of stars and quasars light the way
The scent of incense lifts their spirits high
Nobody shouts commands to sit or stay;
Freedom is calling from beyond the sky.

Saint Peter tells each one "Rest easy, friend;
Your earthy suffering is at an end."

By Sara L Russell 31st August 2014 at 04:26am

After he died,
his spirit was determined to
apologise to her
in the next life,
for all the abuse.
He came back as a spider
In her bath.
She washed him down the plughole.

Sara L Russell*

Bright colours in a pool of crystal clarity
reflecting all the spectrum of our days
slip down into a quagmire of nonentity
with nothing left to sully or erase.

This cold disease that strips a man of human soul,
is worst of all the ravages of time;
behold those eyes, devoid of everything you stole,
yet blissfully unknowing of your crime.

This bright man, worn away to barest minimum,
this one-time writer and great raconteur,
this poet - will not travel to Byzantium;
his world is fading to a senseless blur.

( July 16th 01:10am)

Dear boy! The love that dare not speak it's name
which caused you suffering, expounds these days;
no golden sphynxes fold their wings in shame,
there's pride in gaiety and all it's ways.

To think that tiny window on the sky
was all you had, to show the world was real!
For bigotry and hate will always try
to break a butterfly upon a wheel.

Bereft and broken, still by love possessed,
you were vanquished by prejudicial law;
and yet, with trusting candour, you confessed
to all the passion you were fighting for.

From Paradise to gutter, behind bars,
Oscar was always looking at the stars.

Sara L Russell 6/11/13, 07:56

The baby Chinese girl
discarded from the world
I am she
and she is me

The wife with ravaged face
where acid left its trace
I am she
and she is me

The girl who had to wed
and share an old man's bed
I am she
and she is me

The one deflowered by knife
to live a "purer" life
I am she
and she is me

Come world sisters, unite
and keep your souls alight
like the sun
shining as one.

June 28th 2015, 02:53am*

The sun shall ascend in the morning, in a benediction of golden light.
Birdsong shall scatter through the air as brightly as sunlight on water,
butterflies shall rise in ragged flight, seeking out meadow nectars,
  as peace breaks out throughout the peaks and valleys.

The man who works the land shall return, hungry and weary from his toil
to find his house still standing, as it always was before.
The rivers shall leap and dance over rocks and crash into waterfall ravines,
  and no influx of blood shall taint their waters.

Peace shall resound in the calls of birds and laughter of children;
man shall lie with woman in untroubled spiritual and physical accord;
curve into hollow to curve, softly entwining and cradled in love,
  and no sudden sounds shall disturb their loving.

The moon shall rise in the evening; swathed in luminescent clouds.
Retiring songs of birds shall herald the coming of twilight.
Peaceful breath of slumber shall rise and fall as night descends,
  and all closed eyes shall be open again at sunrise.

She stares into a pool reflecting midnight stars
A scrying glass of mystic mystery
A portal to dimensions where the brave may pass
Without a password or a golden key.

The shimmer of green oceans in the mind's third eye
Reflects a myriad of distant lands
A chalice raised; a sip that brings the lips to sigh
Wingbeating spirit hears and understands.

The trees are hung with lanterns giving amber light
The sky's festooned with stars in veils of cloud
Reflecting in her eyes. In decadent delight
She takes another sip and sighs aloud.

The light green potion lingers lightly on her tonge
Unfolding tastes of mint and aniseed
Promising deeper pleasure while the night is young
Where evening moths and fairies stop to feed.

By Sara L Russell*

Do you hear unspoken thought,
  Do you fly now, with the birds,
As the rest of us stay caught between our futile deeds and words?
 In the endless dome of sky
  Make a territory of dreams
While we can only cry for how finite a lifetime seems

Are you floating down the styx
  Like Egyptian cats of old?
Do you dine with Tut and Ramesis in palaces of gold?
 In the finite span of life
  And the cyles of the moon
We can only make short plans for anything that ends too soon

A final resting place
  Is no prison for a soul;
We are elemental as the air that keeps our planet whole.
  In your light and playful way
You will always follow me
Outside in the garden where the angels set you free.

8/2/2012 16:37

For winter I wear black.
not one spark of colour
shall break my mourning for this
season of death.
It speaks of the way I feel inside;
the chill stab of sorrow, the darkness of hurt long concealed.

There will be no yellow
until daffodils appear;
no blue until the bluebells,
no pink until the cherry blossoms
scatter their petals
over the long-thawed land
to make way for the coming of the goddess of spring.

Black is the opposite of white,
of the flat white snow;
black's like a sheltered cave.
Let me hibernate in shadow
draw the curtains
close my eyes.
Wake me only when springtime finally arrives.

Sara L Russell, 28/2/14, 00:30

Given time
the inner eye of memory sees with softer reverie,
as through a muslin curtain; softly veiled and far away -
and how temptingly tranquil seem the waters of the past.

Given time
lost minutes lengthen into hours, to long-remembered days,
lost words that needed saying fall like petals in the rain
Turning slowly in the air until they fade to dust at last.

Given time
a distant haunting melody's translated into sighs
birdsong at morning lilting like a glimmering of streams;
and moments of reflection spill too swiftly through our hands.

Given time
dry leaves fly through the chilly air and scatter in the sky
summer will have her finery returned from green to gold,
and snow will cover everything, like time's relentless sands.

(March 2003)


Alas, ambitious girl, foregone of France,
Thy days are numbered now, through loss of power.
Though once thou led the king a merry dance,
His gaze will wander from a faded flower.

Women are cattle in the eyes of men,
Mere chattels; drear, embattled, scapegoat souls;
How utterly unthinkable, Boleyn,
For queens to rise above domestic goals.

Thy barren womb is witness to thy shame,
Its emptiness brings punishment anew;
The king grows ever scornful of thy name,
Look to thy prayers and dreams, however few.

Bereft of love, one girl branded as jade.
The flagstone cracks beneath the slashing blade.

17th June 2013, 20:09*

And now the sun seems as a sunflower of living flame
caught in a sky of limpid azure coolness;
flocks of white gulls sky-dance above shimmering horizons of forever
and the sea reflects it faithfully, in ripples of sparkling fire.

And now the sun sets like a pearl in a veil of moonbeams,
cloud-spun swathes of gossamer form her mantle;
Streaks of dove-grey cirrus glide slowly over skylines of umber
as sky fades to sea in a seamless turquoise haze.

iwishicould go to Buckingham Palace,
to dine & drink from a golden chalice;
#iwishicould be Her Majesty,
but #WhatsThePoint I'm only me

#iwishicould be the eyebrows of Gordon Brown,
and go so fetchingly up and down,
#iwishicould be #Nowplaying guitar,
or be a mighty megastar.

SomewhereRightNow
you are awake in the world, made of love and beauty;
and the wings on your heels will take you wherever you want to go.

#SomewhereRightNow
you are doing whatever you are doing; sometimes unaware
of how love follows after you like astral filaments of desire

#SomewhereRightNow
you are making the world a more beautiful place
just by being there.

#SomewhereRightNow
you are shining; scintillating like a rainbow nebula studded with stars.
I love you.

Sara L Russell

A songwriter sat down to write
and tried and tried with all this might
to make the inspiration come
until the bowels of his soul were numb
until he almost screeched in pain
and forced an idea in his brain.
He strained, then like a thunderclap,
out came a song - and it was crap.

Established DJ's tapped their feet,
they thought it sounded rather sweet;
it had nothing unsafe to say
and so they played it night and day
and so they played it day and night
ad nauseam, as if in spite.
It should have been hurled down the nearest drain
but was played again and again and again

And so it got to Number One
and bored the **** off everyone
and so eventually went gold
as down the river the world was sold
as grannies bought it in their droves
(as if grannyhood behoves
the buying of such awful things)
And thus the turkey spread it's wings.

One day, a man with a broken heart
whose business venture fell apart
whose grandmother was very ill
stood high upon a window sill
and wondered, should he jump, or no?
And was six floors high enough to go?
As his aching heart began to thump,
He heard the song - and decided to jump.

Sara L Russell 6/3/13 16:18 

Just look at him, sitting in the corner 
Hogging the remote control
Seemingly so deaf but he can hear us when he likes
Leaves such a mess around the toilet bowl

Just look at him stagger to the ****** 
Just because we've hidden all the *****
He remembers where to drink but can't remember where he lives
Maybe a nursing home will help him choose

Look at that poor old man sat in the corner
He had no visitors again today
He sings all the old songs but doesn't quite recall his name
And never seems to have a lot to say.

----

Sunset sky
Late leaves fall
as litter flies

----

All night
awake
feels strange
I crack

Late flight
I break
I'll change
come back

----

I don't know why she never really knew me
I wish I knew why she was so unkind
And why she cut my clothes to shreds so rudely
And ripped the peace cleanly out of my mind

----

i hate myself
i hate my life
my fingers close around the knife
my cuts are mouths screaming in vain
as blood mixes with streaming rain

----

Hey lonely -
your poem ******.
Read more, get out more,
eat meat or forever hold your peas.

----

Nightfall comes
wood smoke curls
as lights go out.

----

N E 1 want 2 chat?
No?
'bye.

29/9/11 00:01am

Come cease thy journey, come to us
Odysseus, Odysseus,
Come silently away;
We'll kiss thee all and everywhere, beneath the ocean's spray.

Oh we are warm and finely made
We yearn for thee, be not afraid
Come close to us this night,
We'll make thee tremble with desire, like beating wings in flight

I dreamed I lightly kissed thy hair
Odysseus, tis true I swear,
Then kisses to thy chest;
Which swiftly ventured lower, at thy shivering behest.

Discard thy garments, yield to us
Odysseus, Odysseus,
Come to our warm caress;
We'll make thee sing the notes coherent words cannot express.

inspired by the performances of Maxine Pearce & Nico Mirallegro in BBC1's The Village,
this is from the point of view of a mother to a son who has to go to war*

01.20am, 30/4/13

Wherever life may send you
However far away
May light beings befriend you
Angels, to light your way

Four angels for protection
To guard the path ahead
Three more for introspection
To drive out fear and dread

May archangels placate you
And sanctify your dreams
May love illuminate you
However dark life seems.

Wingbeating high above you
To guide you on your way
The angels and I love you
A little more each day.

He Whom The Light Loves
by Sara L. Russell aka Pinky Andrexa


Where is he today, he whom the light loves,
his face all kissed by sunlight, caressed by shadow,
he who moves through the world like a sleek caracal,
lissom and lithe as a dancer spellbound by a song?


I thought I saw him in a waking dream,
all haloed in rays of a sunrise; hot amber and gold;
drawing admirers around him with burning allure,
luring us into the warming embrace of his arms.


Where is he who shines with an inner light,
with shades of magenta-rose on his petalled lips?
does he wander through distant daydreams of far away
unaware of all observers who wish to be loves?


Where is he today, he whom the light loves,
all vibrant energy of highlight and shade?
I'm blowing wistful kisses to air again
wishing him love and the happiness I've still to find.


---------------------------------------------------------­------
(Dedicated to my favourite actor, talking about the way he lights up the screen).

15/2 /12        02:07

She's slipping through the loopholes in my prayers
Defying all attempts to wish her well
The world at large so little knows or cares
How many languish in a private hell

She's slipping through the system; what there is
And loopholes of what care there ought to be
She's teetering before a precipice
The endless chasm of the wait-and-see

A prayer is but an exertion of will
Sent drifting in the bright dome of the sky
Each one of many; some unanswered still
Some high priority, some drift on by.

She's slipping through the loopholes in our prayers,
Fading the hopes of everyone who cares.

(disgraced artist Graham Ovenden)

First thing they do is wash it all away
Destroying evidence that could be used
Sometimes they cry, or hug themselves and sway
There is no real solace for the abused.

Sometimes victims will cut off all their hair
In trying to be less provocative;
Sometimes they stay indoors, some cease to care
Whether they live or die; much less forgive.

First act of perpetrators is deceive
Deceive intended victims with false charm
Then say children are too young to believe,
And they themselves too old to inflict harm.

They say he is too old; it must be true,
Therefore, suspended sentencing will do.

Death of Aleppo
Sara L Russell   1st May 2018

When I saw your before-and-after
how I cried
  I died a thousand deaths
       on your bleak soil
a golden city built on hope and pride
  now rubble, bloodied waters
    and turmoil

Despoil is not the word
  to fit the scene
Annihilate seems closer
     to the mark
a land devoured by the war machine
  once here, a fountain
there a local park

In stark contrast to
  all that's left today
bereft of everything you once
  held dear
What went before is lost and blown away
  the aftermath seems now
   forever here

When we saw your before and after
  photographs
flat epitaphs of never-
   ending pain
condolences in tiny paragraphs
  appeared in hollow hashtags
     once again.

END OF ILLUSION
(For Barry)
by Sara L. Russell (Pinky Andrexa)


How lovely was illusion
when it used to wear his face;
like some magical collusion
between mystery and grace.
Spun from lightning, stars and thunder,
luminescent as moonlight,
with dark eyes wide with wonder
and hair as black as night.


How lovely was desire
when it used to sigh his name;
forged out of passion's fire,
too mischievous for shame.
He's a hero for our dreams
to entice us out to play;
how untouchable he seems
till they pull the ground away!


Shave the lion, chop the willow
strip the peacock of its plumes,
burn his image from the pillow,
leave us dying from the fumes;
lost in darkness and confusion,
torn from all we used to know -
please don't take away our illusion,
we love him so.

Sara L Russell 18/4/15 at 23:58*

The past is redundant time.
Only the people who populate it are truly worthwhile,
weaving their ways through our dreams and memories;
every one as precious as spun gold.

Time cannot diminish their brightness,
nor soften the pain that strikes like a spear at the
thought that they are gone.

Time is taking its toll on us all, eroding the distant gleam
of the future, consigning our dreams to
the scattered wastelands of the past. It steals away hope,
it steals away people;

change creates havoc and death leaves its mark on us all.
The past is gone. The future gleams brightly with
a cold, two-dimensional sun.

I miss you.

02:34 19/12/2010


When all is closing in from every side
When no-one else perceives the good in you
When need can't rise above your walls of pride
And seemingly there's nothing left to do


If you should feel reviled for who you are
Feeling alone in pain and misery
No leap of faith could ever be too far
To call a friend, albeit reluctantly.


I'd catch a bullet with my heart for you
I'd take inside of me your worlds of pain
Bestow the wealth of love you never knew
Give anything to see you smile again


When all seems lost, when no-one seems to care
The one who loves you most is always there.

21/2/12    16:09pm*

How lovely is my dearest one in sleep,
A fair whisper of who he was before;
Silence has fallen in the castle keep,
Spring birds are singing; and he speaks no more.

How pale, my Romeo, by evening light,
How cold, these sullen lips I'm burning for;
The sunset burns with amber, warm and bright,
Blooms shine like lanterns; and he sees no more.

I kiss the pillowed tresses of his hair,
Caress his face, these pale hands I adore,
Such touches as would tell how much I care,
I kiss him softly; though he feels no more.

The dagger shimmers coldly in my hand
Bringing death's sweet release to my command.

Though the sky may fade,
your eyes grow dim and rheumy
and the sun lose its golden halo
I’ll still see you
I’ll carry a torch to
light your  corner of darkness in the world

Though your voice may quake
and few may stop to listen
as you fight to convey opinion
I’ll still hear you
I’ll listen to find a
meaning through confusion in the words

Though most sound is quelled
and as if in sleep
your ears miss the sounds of morning
I’ll still speak to you
remind you of
who you are, both to yourself and those who care.

Upon some past and distant day
I thought I heard love’s music play
Saw Dante’s angels rise and fall
and Babel crumbling through it all.
Communication was breaking down
in country, continent and town
and whither did the angels fly
when tongues of fire passed us by?


Sweet mercy’s heralds on the wing
I thought I stopped to hear them sing
new colours gave they to us all
strange languages and ways withal.
I knew my brethren nevermore
nor what the diversity was for
Save to set one man against the next
and have mankind forever vexed....


Strange ways we walk, strange tales we weave
the more our children to deceive
perpetuating moral lies
through generations of poisoned eyes
who only see that black is white
on a lesser scale, with no grace or might;
that dark or different walks alone
and language is slingshot to be thrown.


and whither did the angels fly
when tongues of fire passed us by,
when divided waters joined again,
when came the end to Noah’s rain?
Can it be we are alone
so quick to cast judgmental stone,
so slow to see, in each other’s face,
the beating wings of love and grace?

#YouAreBeautiful in my mind's eye when you are not before me;
shimmering like sunlit leaves after rain; your name is the breath of a mantra

#YouAreBeautiful I say; let no-one deny or despute it;
for those lips like the petals of roses and eyes all of langour and love

#YouAreBeautiful ; and all those who never will hold you
can simply behold you, with eyes deep in love.

(for Elizabeth, 1962-2013)
Sara L. Russell, 16th December 2013, 17:14

Somewhere out of reach
in memory's inner eye
is a windswept sandy beach
with an endless summer sky
and a mischievous light breeze
always messing up my hair
and always calmer seas
in the days when you were there.

Somewhere in childhood days
there was so much to believe
always so much to amaze
it was never time to leave
there was always time to run
to let imagination fly
no harm came to anyone
no-one ever said goodbye

Sometime long ago
when the warmest summers blazed
or when winter brought the snow
we were endlessly amazed
and everything seemed light
as a snowflake on the air
and the whole world seemed all right
in the days when you were there.

Light light beings
Sara L Russell, 10/10/16

So if we are light beings, then is the aura a fountain of white
  diamond fire reflecting the sun, dancing in the air
in a million drops of exploding starlight from the seventh universe.
  If we are light beings, we are beholden to shun the darkness.

Always shun the darkness, for it is full of the shadows of djinn;
  those shadow people know your comings and goings,
behold, they are legion, they hunt the starlight children
fly like a moth to the light; since it holds only the luminescence of love.

We are light, we are strong, we are wingbeats of angels,
  we are the blameless abiders of law from our leaders,
like a million dancing raindrops, we can weather the maelstroms,
  holding the light as a feather; since it is fragile and needs our belief.

And if we are light beings, being lighter than air or arias,
  then is the aura like haloes of sunbeams reflected in sea;
only then we are free to ascend in the spirit of freedom,
being the love light and keepers of tranquility.