Day lily
Sounds shy
Hidden
Wanting to stay at home
You sit in my bed
Flagrant and bold
Dazzling flower
Copyright © 2016 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Re-blogged from 2016
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Category Archives: beauty
Space Within
Considering the expanding universe and ultimate cooling, I pause
remembering photos of star birth amid nebulosity,
nuclear furnaces blossoming.
Telescopes in orbit or secluded in foreign deserts
produce pictures in lights we cannot see
show immensities in glorious un-colours.
In the back garden, I look up, past scudding clouds,
watch coloured pinpricks arrayed over black sky
with occasional satellites twinkling by beneath.
Feeling the breeze, green with trees, redolent with life
thinking of all those things we cannot see
here and all the way up there.
Copyright © 2018 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Dancing with shadows
Any attempt to pin down
this exact moment, that exact image
exactly what I feel and need to say
needs words that are not born yet,
metaphors for minds not yet formed,
such is exactitude.
Yet that is what poets attempt to do.
We stand at the edge of the crowd,
listening to the music
hearing the echoes of other times and places,
and ask a shadow to dance.
Copyright © 2018 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Wrecks
In the dew-drop abyss near
Wrecks of molecules appear;
In the far abyss of the sky
Wrecks of outworn worlds drift by…
But in the protean abyss of the soul
Wrecks of motes and universes roll.
by Theodore Stephanides, who should be familiar to all who love Gerald Durrell‘s “My Family and other Animals”. Theodore was a polymath, and wrote wonderful poetry.
Chorus
Serenading light’s rising,
waking at a first feeble glimmer
creeping from the east.
Each bird a separate voice
whole body singing from tails depth.
Performing a duty since the original melodious call
heralding dawns radiance
thankful for a daily miracle.
Worshipping warmth’s return
and the new day.
Copyright © 2018 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Engine
Long and large
Lurking on the rails
Panting at the signal
Waiting to be released
Red and polished
Steam about your underskirts
Powerful relic
Your magic persists
Copyright © 2016 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Re-blogged from 2016
Truth like glass
In Inspiration’s furnace
Poets work and strive
To create a Truth like glass
Clear, transforming
A window to other.
Copyright © 2018 Kim Whysall-Hammond
There are never enough photos of Pico
There are never enough photos of Pico
Says he, as he takes yet one more
The light has changed again
And the mountain looks about to roar
We’ve flown over and around her
Driven along her lower slopes
But the best view is away from her
From little Horta’s shore
The mountain slumbers on
Fuji slopes gracefully curving down
She glows rose in the dawns light
By midday she can glower and frown
Clouds drape her and embrace her
Shadowing scree and walled in grapevine
However far we travel away from her
Somehow that volcano is always mine
Copyright © 2015 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Re-blogged from 2015
Flower
I held a flower in my hand
Delicate, whole, perfect
A small world within itself
And, as we searched for a gate.
A stile, by which to leave the field,
I crushed it.
Copyright © 2018 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Exmoor Spring
Sheep gnaw at clumps of grass
Buttercups shine as yellow cut-glass
Bluebells haze and blue a bare hill bereft of a wood
And I laze where struggling shepherds once stood.
Copyright © 2018 Kim Whysall-Hammond
