Category Archives: beauty

Day lily

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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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.

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