Category Archives: Life

British Christmas fun – the Royal Navy as they came home in 2011:

 

–this video gets me in the mood for Christmas.

Merry Christmas Everybody!

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Dandelions

A great poem from Sarah Russell. Here, in an English winter, the Dandelions are still strutting their stuff across my back lawn.

Sarah Russell Poetry

“A weed is a flower growing in the wrong place.”
                            George Washington Carver

Spike-haired, brass-blonde,
they invade the bluegrass suburbs
where blades form a passive sameness
if tended as intended.  They strut
across the green of everyday —
strumpets in tattered leafy skirts,
stiletto roots — bestowing downy favors
on the summer breeze.

– Sarah Russell
First published in Your Daily Poem
Photo Source

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Lightly seared on the reality grill

Lightly seared on the reality grill
falling outside

normal moral constraints
with a fine disregard for awkward facts

refreshingly unconcerned with
the vulgar exigencies of veracity

Kakistocrats.

Copyright © 2018 Kim Whysall-Hammond

 

Kakistocrat” is Ancient Greek, meaning “worst ruler”, a humorous inversion of “aristocrat”. I do think this describes politicians in both the UK and USA today……

This is a found poem, from Culture ship names.

 

Iceberg

Icebergs, refracting blues and greens
as if gigantic gemstones,
and the deep massy ever moving ocean
exist symbiotically
made of the same substance
but separate entities
each enigmatic, inscrutable.

Icebergs lie in wait for unsuspecting ships,
their increased calving into the ocean
augur the doom of Antarctic ice sheets
and so of coastal cities and those within.
Yet their ice is open to light
sparking endless variations in it’s aspect,
while ocean depths are veiled by waves and opacity.

Differences simply born of lack of heat,
each is part of our blue planets girdling seas
as are we, in all our different complexities.

Copyright © 2018 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Coming of Age

Another great poem from Betty, and time I shared one with you…

Seasonings

.

He says she’s over the hill,

that she’s dancing

with entropy

toward the valley below

.

but she hears the call

of flickers, and the chitter

of squirrels,

and she sees ahead

.

lush meadows, tall trees,

and moss-covered stones

on the path

by a sapphire river.

.

There, she’ll follow the scent

of her own deep roots

to a range of mountains,

their tops hidden

.

in the subtleties he missed

between the lines

on her face

when e’er she smiled.

.

.

(c)  2018  Betty Hayes Albright

.

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We are Stardust

Orbital telescopes send home images
nebulae, glowing with colour
last remnants of fat, dying, exploded stars
lingering across the night sky
lighted by millennia old catastrophe

They are where the magic happens
atoms forged in burnt out stars
a deathbed bequest that has made us all

Copyright © 2018 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Epitaph — a poem by Theodore Stephanides

“Let something of me still remain behind;
A verse a cadence, to outlive the clay;
Let some reflect, some glimmer of my mind
Recall the passage of my little day.”

by Theodore Stephanides, who should be familiar to all who love Gerald Durrell‘s “My Family and other Animals”. Theodore was a polymath—-both Doctor and aquatic biologist, and he wrote wonderful poetry. Apparently he wrote this, his own epitaph.