Category Archives: Life

Leonid

There
Amsterdam and Leonid turns up at a friends house
with a case of ikons and art
new identity papers
no longer a Russian
but a proud Ukrainian
selling treasure for hard currency
to build a country
 
When
we traipsed with him around dealers and auction houses
awkward in an unfamiliar world
waiting for bona fides to be checked
deals to be made
 
Now
I wonder where you are my friend
cannot understand how it came to this
how dreams shatter
conceptions of nationhood crack
peace shatters into sharp fatal shards

Copyright © 2022 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Friday Poem: Kinship

Very slowly burning, the big forest tree
stands in the slight hollow of the snow
melted around it by the mild, long
heat of its being and its will to be
root, trunk, branch, leaf, and know
earth dark, sun light, wind touch, bird song.

Rootless and restless and warmblooded, we
blaze in the flare that blinds us to that slow,
tall, fraternal fire of life as strong
now as in the seedling two centuries ago.

by Ursula Le Guin

A poem for Fake Flamencos June challenge

This poem is in the form of a naani poem. Naani means: expressing one and all in theTelugu language. This form originated in India from the Telugu poet, Dr. N. Gopi. A naani has four lines with a total of 20-25 syllables and no title. It was written for Rebecca over at Fake Flamenco as part of her June Poetry Challenge :

Grey dawn is a stranger
Yet I remember
Gulls on a clay flat beach
Frost sparkling a forbidden lawn

Copyright © 2022 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Comfort Food

We drove back exhausted
you resting that nearly blind eye
me trying to focus on the road ahead
clinging to my steering wheel

This morning the optician had taken one look and
sent us hell for leather to a local hospital
where the consultant quailed, sent us
even faster to a top specialist

Several hours driving from town to town
then to the big port city
hurry up and wait, and again
Like at an airport, but worse

Finally, a laser welded your eye together
and we made the last call home
to our anxious schoolboy son
who fretfully asked how long we would be

Finally at home, we opened the front door
to the smell of baking breads
sizzling Halloumi, grilled Aubergines
fresh made hummous

A dining table laid with the best plates and cutlery
crystal glasses and
love

Copyright © 2022 Kim Whysall-Hammond

High on the Downs

Long grasses sift the evening wind
scent it with pollens
stars prickle through high cloud

somewhere, Skylark still sings
finishing the day shift
elsewhere, Owl calls
announcing night

dusk empties the land
of humanity
all close together
in their dim shelters

here on the ridge
Hare comes close
closer
black tipped ears erect

we return her stare
for what seems
forever

Copyright © 2022 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Written for this weeks  earthweal weekly challenge: SPIRITS OF PLACE

Rattling the Drawers

I was spoon fed them
accepting passively the gift
yet another small burden to carry down the years
plastic bag of large sliver spoons all tarnished
a bit like me

Left in a cupboard
rediscovered when decorating
polished laboriously
put experimentally in a drawer

Now each meal uses one or two
dolloping pasta or curry onto family plates
use keeps them shiny, blessed fact
and their surfaces reflect laughter and love

I regret not asking my mother
back in her living time
where they came from
within a small working class family

Already I see the ones I will give this summer
to my eldest son and the woman he loves
as they start their lives together

I hope she will not see them as a burden

Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond

This poem was first published by An Ink Slingers Observance in their June 2020 print edition.

Daydream

I drowse in heavy sun, dream of snow on mountains, ocean breezes
and the riverside where I read one whole day in the shade
of an oak, while you were cycling across Wiltshire
with the old friend that eventually deserted
and hurt you. We were all untamed by
life then, pushing boundaries
feeling awful and wonderful
at each the same time. I
loved you so much that
it hurt, sometimes
still does.

Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond