Russell Willis
Russell Willis emerged as a poet in 2019 with the publication of three poems in The Write Launch. Since then, he has published poetry in over thirty online and print journals and twenty print anthologies. He won the Sapphire Prize in Poetry in the 2022 Jewels in the Queen’s Crown Contest (Sweetycat Press). Russell grew up in and around Texas (USA) and was vocationally scattered as an engineer, ethicist, college/university teacher and administrator, Internet education entrepreneur, and pastor throughout the Southwest and Great Plains, finally settling in Vermont with his wife, Dawn.
“With Me Between the Lines,” “Knowing That You Knew Joy,” and “Until Tomorrows Are Swallowed By Yesterdays”
There are those who live
between the lines of life
who once were my story
but came not to fit,
not them in mine
nor me in theirs;
between the lines of life
who once were my story
but came not to fit,
not them in mine
nor me in theirs;
Poetry
Issue 87, September 2024
“Earth Cries and the Oceans Catch the Tears,” “Reservoir No More,” and “Summer — Memory or Prophecy?”
Each corner of a globe
With no corners
Born of the sea as
Liquid or solid
In dances with humans
And dances between humans
Fear and hope meet in their own dance
As the earth cries
With no corners
Born of the sea as
Liquid or solid
In dances with humans
And dances between humans
Fear and hope meet in their own dance
As the earth cries
Poetry
Winter 2024: Climate Crisis
“If These Walls Could Talk,” “Images of Night,” and “Overheard on a Train”
If only these walls could talk
we wonder
What might goad their reluctant tongues?
Wondered more often
by those who would be betrayed or wounded by the
small talk or gloating of these walls
we wonder
What might goad their reluctant tongues?
Wondered more often
by those who would be betrayed or wounded by the
small talk or gloating of these walls
Poetry
Issue 77, September 2023
“Windsong: Solo Flute,” “The Dig,” and “Sudden Gasp”
The flutes of those
who live
with,
not just in,
nature,
mimic windsong.
Even accidental noise
blown by untrained lips
echoes the haunting, ethereal
whistle of wind
through limbs and grass, crops and structures.
who live
with,
not just in,
nature,
mimic windsong.
Even accidental noise
blown by untrained lips
echoes the haunting, ethereal
whistle of wind
through limbs and grass, crops and structures.
Poetry
Issue 66, October 2022
“Windsong: Grand Opera,” “Full-ness of Time” and “Shadow Play”
The first strains of the overture
Intrudes on the calm of normalcy.
Several measures of gentle breeze
Slowly crescendo into true wind.
The key and rhythm suddenly change,
Then revert to the original.
Intrudes on the calm of normalcy.
Several measures of gentle breeze
Slowly crescendo into true wind.
The key and rhythm suddenly change,
Then revert to the original.
Poetry
Issue 55, November 2021
“There Are No Words,” “Que Será – Mother’s Stare” and “Peace”
“There are no words…” with tragedy
Or times absurd or ends unknown
Is tragic in its own accord
For words may be all that we own
Or times absurd or ends unknown
Is tragic in its own accord
For words may be all that we own
Poetry
Issue 47, March 2021
“Attic,” “Thalia and Melpomene” and “And So We Sleep”
Three chains:
The first hanging in the hall
Just within reach, but
High enough not to disturb traffic through the short hallway
The first hanging in the hall
Just within reach, but
High enough not to disturb traffic through the short hallway
Poetry
Issue 38, June 2020
“Just Do It,” “Warning” and “Life Dunes”
No matter what the it
it often starts small, unannounced
undetected or unappreciated
It starts to grow or change in
some way, pushed or pulled by us
or self-induced
it often starts small, unannounced
undetected or unappreciated
It starts to grow or change in
some way, pushed or pulled by us
or self-induced
Poetry
Issue 29, September 2019
“Long Ago, Friday Night in Texas,” “A Train at Night,” and “Joy”
Light explodes from darkening skies.
Not Sun,
Yet, light unleashing elemental forces.
The fragrance of recently mown grass
As would be remembered by a thoroughbred
Not so long ago a colt
Building muscle and endurance
Running like the wind through the grass just because
You were meant to run like the wind when you are a colt.
Poetry
Issue 21, January 2019
Russell Willis
Russell Willis emerged as a poet in 2019 with the publication of three poems in The Write Launch. Since then, he has published poetry in over thirty online and print journals and twenty print anthologies. He won the Sapphire Prize in Poetry in the 2022 Jewels in the Queen’s Crown Contest (Sweetycat Press). Russell grew up in and around Texas (USA) and was vocationally scattered as an engineer, ethicist, college/university teacher and administrator, Internet education entrepreneur, and pastor throughout the Southwest and Great Plains, finally settling in Vermont with his wife, Dawn.
“With Me Between the Lines,” “Knowing That You Knew Joy,” and “Until Tomorrows Are Swallowed By Yesterdays”
There are those who live
between the lines of life
who once were my story
but came not to fit,
not them in mine
nor me in theirs;
between the lines of life
who once were my story
but came not to fit,
not them in mine
nor me in theirs;
Poetry
Issue 87, September 2024
“Earth Cries and the Oceans Catch the Tears,” “Reservoir No More,” and “Summer — Memory or Prophecy?”
Each corner of a globe
With no corners
Born of the sea as
Liquid or solid
In dances with humans
And dances between humans
Fear and hope meet in their own dance
As the earth cries
With no corners
Born of the sea as
Liquid or solid
In dances with humans
And dances between humans
Fear and hope meet in their own dance
As the earth cries
Poetry
Winter 2024: Climate Crisis
“If These Walls Could Talk,” “Images of Night,” and “Overheard on a Train”
If only these walls could talk
we wonder
What might goad their reluctant tongues?
Wondered more often
by those who would be betrayed or wounded by the
small talk or gloating of these walls
we wonder
What might goad their reluctant tongues?
Wondered more often
by those who would be betrayed or wounded by the
small talk or gloating of these walls
Poetry
Issue 77, September 2023
“Windsong: Solo Flute,” “The Dig,” and “Sudden Gasp”
The flutes of those
who live
with,
not just in,
nature,
mimic windsong.
Even accidental noise
blown by untrained lips
echoes the haunting, ethereal
whistle of wind
through limbs and grass, crops and structures.
who live
with,
not just in,
nature,
mimic windsong.
Even accidental noise
blown by untrained lips
echoes the haunting, ethereal
whistle of wind
through limbs and grass, crops and structures.
Poetry
Issue 66, October 2022
“Windsong: Grand Opera,” “Full-ness of Time” and “Shadow Play”
The first strains of the overture
Intrudes on the calm of normalcy.
Several measures of gentle breeze
Slowly crescendo into true wind.
The key and rhythm suddenly change,
Then revert to the original.
Intrudes on the calm of normalcy.
Several measures of gentle breeze
Slowly crescendo into true wind.
The key and rhythm suddenly change,
Then revert to the original.
Poetry
Issue 55, November 2021
“There Are No Words,” “Que Será – Mother’s Stare” and “Peace”
“There are no words…” with tragedy
Or times absurd or ends unknown
Is tragic in its own accord
For words may be all that we own
Or times absurd or ends unknown
Is tragic in its own accord
For words may be all that we own
Poetry
Issue 47, March 2021
“Attic,” “Thalia and Melpomene” and “And So We Sleep”
Three chains:
The first hanging in the hall
Just within reach, but
High enough not to disturb traffic through the short hallway
The first hanging in the hall
Just within reach, but
High enough not to disturb traffic through the short hallway
Poetry
Issue 38, June 2020
“Just Do It,” “Warning” and “Life Dunes”
No matter what the it
it often starts small, unannounced
undetected or unappreciated
It starts to grow or change in
some way, pushed or pulled by us
or self-induced
it often starts small, unannounced
undetected or unappreciated
It starts to grow or change in
some way, pushed or pulled by us
or self-induced
Poetry
Issue 29, September 2019
“Long Ago, Friday Night in Texas,” “A Train at Night,” and “Joy”
Light explodes from darkening skies.
Not Sun,
Yet, light unleashing elemental forces.
The fragrance of recently mown grass
As would be remembered by a thoroughbred
Not so long ago a colt
Building muscle and endurance
Running like the wind through the grass just because
You were meant to run like the wind when you are a colt.
Poetry
Issue 21, January 2019