–this video gets me in the mood for Christmas.
Merry Christmas Everybody!
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Category Archives: Life
Dandelions
A great poem from Sarah Russell. Here, in an English winter, the Dandelions are still strutting their stuff across my back lawn.
“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
After the Dance
We wade though the bright grass
Tired, footsore, happy
Hearing a bird calling by the reeds
Notes curling amongst themselves,
Spinning through the warm air
Distantly, traffic busies itself,
Here, tranquility reigns,
After a full night dancing,
We walk.
Copyright © 2016 Kim Whysall-Hammond
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
Bones
Slender bones, delicately traced
staring grinning skulls.
No skin, no muscle,
no eyes, no heart or other parts.
Yet they tell a knowing eye many tales
of wounds healed, muscle strengths,
diseases and battles fought.
Indications of the life lived
And sometimes the death faced.
Copyright © 2018 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Boat
High on hilly plateau
nestled in sheep fields
wind ruffled lonely lake
unexpected broken boat
pulled up onto
sheep stained rocks
bright paint splinters
blue into chilly green waters
aground amongst sheep
Copyright © 2018 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Coming of Age
Another great poem from Betty, and time I shared one with you…
.
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
.
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.
