Swaying bobbing we peer through the hull
Eagle Rays swish beneath us chasing the unknown
Light glints on a startled shoal sashaying across the rocks
Gas bubbles up from volcanic clefts
Crabs glance sideways, looking for the main chance
Copyright © 2016 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Day 3 of our virtual Azores holiday!
We will be there all week — a poem a day to fly you away……
Moonlight has banished an ocean of stars,
pouring molten silver across the water.
Murmuring waves remember a primal ocean,
write poetry in their foam,
erase the day from a busy beach.
A harsh breeze crashes across treetops
as if breaking on a coral reef
and distant sea-birds call evenings end,
sharp disembodied sentinels of the night.
Copyright © 2018 Kim Whysall-Hammond
The first evening of a glorious virtual holiday in the Azores. Enjoy!
We will be there all week — a poem a day to fly you away……
The sky seduces me
fills my eyes.
Staring out at grey rains today
blessedly cooling
remembering white noons
brick red sunsets, lemon dawns
whales breaching, jellyfish jellying
wind in hair and lungs
exhilaration and joy
memories that tip toe in
hand in hand with all my loves and woes
happinesses, griefs.
I hum songs of the sky
her shadows and canvases
float in my own internal ocean
drift and dream.
Each time I see her, I am joy.
Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Newborn day appears with hands of flowers
The sun enthroned with rose
Has banished invidious night
Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond
A delicate fabric of bird song
Floats in the air,
The smell of wet wild earth
Is everywhere.
Red small leaves of the maple
Are clenched like a hand,
Like girls at their first communion
The pear trees stand.
Oh I must pass nothing by
Without loving it much,
The raindrop try with my lips,
The grass with my touch;
For how can I be sure
I shall see again
The world on the first of May
Shining after the rain?
I am listening to Istanbul with my eyes closed
First a breeze is blowing
And leaves swaying
Slowly on the trees;
Far far away the bells of the
Water carriers ringing,
I am listening to Istanbul with my eyes closed.
I am listening to Istanbul with my eyes closed
A bird is passing by,
Birds are passing by, screaming, screaming,
Fish nets being withdrawn in fishing weirs,
A woman’s toe dabbling in water,
I am listening to Istanbul with my eyes closed.
I am listening,
The cool Grand Bazaar,
Mahmutpasha twittering
Full of pigeons,
Its vast courtyard,
Sounds of hammering from the docks,
In the summer breeze far, far away the odor of sweat,
I am listening.
I am listening to Istanbul with my eyes closed
The drunkenness of old times
In the wooden seaside villa with its deserted boat house
The roaring southwestern wind is trapped,
My thoughts are trapped
Listening to Istanbul with my eyes closed.
I am listening to Istanbul with my eyes closed
A coquette is passing by on the sidewalk,
Curses, sings, sings, passes;
Something is falling from your hand
To the ground,
It must be a rose.
I am listening to Istanbul with my eyes closed.
I am listening to Istanbul with my eyes closed
A bird is flying round your skirt;
I know if your forehead is hot or cold
Or your lips are wet or dry;
Or if a white moon is rising above the pistachio tree
My heart’s fluttering tells me. . .
I am listening to Istanbul with my eyes closed.
translated by the poet Murat Nemet-Nejat
…and I admit, this time the poem comes not from my poetry bookshelf, but from Leonard Durso’s glorious website leonarddurso.com
Also, we should have been in Istanbul last week, but Corona got in the way. :(
The Moon has just
blown a kiss to me
which spirals
and spurls across space
floats gently on the atmosphere
then sinks
is buffeted by winds
shot up and down in a thundercloud
finally to settle on my lips
cool blue sentiment
suffuses my body
places moonbeams in my hair
Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Tree limbs reach out
grab the evening sun
today my mind has been
full of trees and words
Their canopy is shelter
clerestory, the centre
of green life
that great Spring pump of sap upwards
the heartbeat of every forest
Plant a tree knowing it will outlive you
breathe life in the world
the weight of your feet
firming the earth
around its roots
simple midwifery
In trees are stories, histories
the future
Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Today I’ve arranged to breakfast with the sky
we haven’t been talking much lately and
so need some alone time together
in her lovely blue halls cushioned with fluffy cumuli
although blue is probably not her best colour
at breakfast, she’s more into yellow and rose.
Trouble is, she gets up so early and those of us who
don’t need to rise for work tend to sleep in….
I wonder if that’s why she’s been so distant to me?
Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond
No storm ever played across your surface
No rain ever fell
Dust lays where water would otherwise
No fish here can dwell
Misnamed lunar ‘ocean’
That two men have bounced around
The child of massive impact
Lava flooded ground
Copyright © 2016 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Re-blogged from 2016
