All posts by The Cheesesellers Wife

About The Cheesesellers Wife

I write poetry and paint in watercolours and acrylics. My Cheesesellers Wife blog is mostly about poetry and, yes, my husband sells cheese. Sometimes I help…….

Science and Science Fiction poetry: Rain

He sleeps on while I awake
to hear rain on the roof
lie snug listening to a
long familiar sound
pattering, gathering strength
and force until
it pounds
and the roof resounds.

Gasping with sudden
shattering realisation
I grab for the breathers,
the suits,
scream for the children.
It does not rain
here on Mars.

Copyright © 2019 Kim Whysall-Hammond

‘Rain’ was first published in the Science Fiction and Fantasy Poetry Associations print journal Star*Line  42.2     http://sfpoetry.com/sl/issues/starline42.2.html

Mondays are Science and SF Mondays!

A poem each week which either has a science theme or is Science Fiction…..

Amstelveen

Finally there, filling your sofa
raiding your freezer for ice.
Walking out to the river
its banks a storey higher
than the fields.

Taking the tram to the Dam
to the museum quarter
drifting through the Van Goghs
eating pancakes and poffertjes
in the shadow of windmills.

Finally with you, together at last
after years of hurt.
Finally the large barbeque
your Mums Pork Satay
and so many old friends.

Copyright © 2022 Kim Whysall-Hammond

We finally got to visit a dear friend in the Netherlands over the last two weeks. It was bliss……

Friday Poem: Darkness

I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish’d, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;
Morn came and went—and came, and brought no day,
And men forgot their passions in the dread
Of this their desolation; and all hearts
Were chill’d into a selfish prayer for light:
And they did live by watchfires—and the thrones,
The palaces of crowned kings—the huts,
The habitations of all things which dwell,
Were burnt for beacons; cities were consum’d,
And men were gather’d round their blazing homes
To look once more into each other’s face;
Happy were those who dwelt within the eye
Of the volcanos, and their mountain-torch:
A fearful hope was all the world contain’d;
Forests were set on fire—but hour by hour
They fell and faded—and the crackling trunks
Extinguish’d with a crash—and all was black.
The brows of men by the despairing light
Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits
The flashes fell upon them; some lay down
And hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest
Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smil’d;
And others hurried to and fro, and fed
Their funeral piles with fuel, and look’d up
With mad disquietude on the dull sky,
The pall of a past world; and then again
With curses cast them down upon the dust,
And gnash’d their teeth and howl’d: the wild birds shriek’d
And, terrified, did flutter on the ground,
And flap their useless wings; the wildest brutes
Came tame and tremulous; and vipers crawl’d
And twin’d themselves among the multitude,
Hissing, but stingless—they were slain for food.
And War, which for a moment was no more,
Did glut himself again: a meal was bought
With blood, and each sate sullenly apart
Gorging himself in gloom: no love was left;
All earth was but one thought—and that was death
Immediate and inglorious; and the pang
Of famine fed upon all entrails—men
Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh;
The meagre by the meagre were devour’d,
Even dogs assail’d their masters, all save one,
And he was faithful to a corse, and kept
The birds and beasts and famish’d men at bay,
Till hunger clung them, or the dropping dead
Lur’d their lank jaws; himself sought out no food,
But with a piteous and perpetual moan,
And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand
Which answer’d not with a caress—he died.
The crowd was famish’d by degrees; but two
Of an enormous city did survive,
And they were enemies: they met beside
The dying embers of an altar-place
Where had been heap’d a mass of holy things
For an unholy usage; they rak’d up,
And shivering scrap’d with their cold skeleton hands
The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath
Blew for a little life, and made a flame
Which was a mockery; then they lifted up
Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld
Each other’s aspects—saw, and shriek’d, and died—
Even of their mutual hideousness they died,
Unknowing who he was upon whose brow
Famine had written Fiend. The world was void,
The populous and the powerful was a lump,
Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless—
A lump of death—a chaos of hard clay.
The rivers, lakes and ocean all stood still,
And nothing stirr’d within their silent depths;
Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea,
And their masts fell down piecemeal: as they dropp’d
They slept on the abyss without a surge—
The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave,
The moon, their mistress, had expir’d before;
The winds were wither’d in the stagnant air,
And the clouds perish’d; Darkness had no need
Of aid from them—She was the Universe.

By Lord Byron (George Gordon)

Other recently published poems……

Oh dear, I was remiss. But keeping up with things has been difficult after Covid….

My poem, In shape no bigger than an Agate Stone, was published by Eternal Haunted Summer on the summer Solstice:

AND……

another poem, The Mourning of the Children, was published in the excellent Ink Drinkers Poetry, Issue 6:

Poem in Silver Blade Magazine

Because I was fighting off the lingering aftereffects of a bad bout of Covid-19, I neglected to tell you all that my poem, Wild Calling Moon, was published by Silver Blade in their Spring 2002 issue:

Yes, the audio version is me. I’m not sure that will do that again – I don’t like hearing myself read my poems!

Yes, I’m still fighting off the lingering aftereffects of Covid-19. I thought they were clearing away after a holiday in the Netherlands, but this week is pretty bad.

Science and Science Fiction poetry: Green

Green rumbles rambles rolls and ripples
in all its shades and hues
rustles murmurs sways and drifts
floats on and under the waters of both
chill chalk stream and ocean
surfaces the land
spawns and augments tall trees
defines jungles, swamps, farmland
cools and shades, feeds and shelters
sparkled with daisies
strewn with buttercups
cut red with poppy wounds

Green is waste light reflected back from leaves
by the quantum machine of photosynthesis
that powers all life

Copyright © 2019 Kim Whysall-Hammond

‘Green’ was first published in the Environs issue of Snakeskin:  http://www.snakeskinpoetry.co.uk/snake264.html

Mondays are Science and SF Mondays!

A poem each week which either has a science theme or is Science Fiction….

Making Cheese

Put some water in a pan
easy when from a tap
yet children carry water along
hot dry roads every day

With 1 litre of whole milk
maybe you get up early to feed the goats
or buy it in a plastic carton on
the way home from the office

bring to the boil and stir
Is that music stirring
Or just too loud?

then boil again
The desert boils, is a
days death to walk

Add the juice of two lemons
Oh to walk the citrus groves
Of old Mdina once more

It will spilt
A transformation of form and substance
The very heart of magic, cooking, poetry

Drain the solids in a cheesecloth
I would drink the whey
others waste it

Press them to firmness
Either that of a ripe peach or
of your lovers kisses

Copyright © 2022 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Friday Poem: High Flight

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air….
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace.
Where never lark, or even eagle flew —
And, while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
– Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.


by Pilot Officer John Gillespie Magee, Jr, RCAF, 1941