She calls it Moo-juice
in a trying-hard-to-be-cute way.
He winces, wonders why she does this
then is lost once more in her eyes.
I watch, hopefully furtive, observing
the locals in their native habitat
Copyright © 2022 Kim Whysall-Hammond
She calls it Moo-juice
in a trying-hard-to-be-cute way.
He winces, wonders why she does this
then is lost once more in her eyes.
I watch, hopefully furtive, observing
the locals in their native habitat
Copyright © 2022 Kim Whysall-Hammond
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
I want to see you dance again my love
although you mainly did the pogo
There are no crowds anymore
no Mosh to negotiate
I would always be further out
dancing in circles, arms outstretched
watching for your head
to pop up in random places
as you rose and fell
full of the joy of dance
until that day you pulled me in and
I found the sway and push of pressed bodies
breathing as one, living the music together
as ecstatic as loving you
Let’s do it all again…..
Copyright © 2022 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Happy Birthday my dancer!
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
Stretched out on the lawn
bathed in warm sun
we idle with you, our traveling son
and spend time on important things
laughter, love and
space to simply be
Copyright © 2022 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Freefall in grass, holding on
As if afraid to float off the hill
We have tumbled here
Kiss and are lost
Copyright © 2021 Kim Whysall-Hammond
We are now back from staying with close friends (for the first time in 2 years) and our youngest son is self isolating in his room due to the large News Year party he went to in our absence. Both our sons are scared of giving me Covid, in case I get complications.
love has many facets
sometimes it is
simply hiding away
Copyright © 2022 Kim Whysall-Hammond
This combination of prose and verse is a Haibun, posted here for Dverse
Full Moon seen underwater
as you rise breathless
break the surface in fierce waves
splutter like no fish could, would
Moonlight gleams cold on your skin
as the undertow grabs
drags you to the hard shore
where he doesn’t wait as promised
Copyright © 2021 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Waking up with Nanny in her soft double bed
the room white and pink with swans and roses
Sunday morning and you would bring milky tea
Hot in her best rose gold china cup and saucers
we would sip, little fingers raised as you left
Before we too rose
Later, your Saturday visits to our house
bringing a bounty of colourful comics to read
And a secret pocket of sweets, for Mum not to see
How my brothers and I took you for granted
Never noticed the shining love in your eyes
Your hand grasping mine in supplication
As they wheeled you, protesting to surgery
from which you did not return, your
faltering loving heart finally stopping
Under the anaesthetists care
Copyright © 2021 Kim Whysall-Hammond
You cuddle up to me in your sleep, comforted by mother warmth
What do you dream little man, my child full of wonder
You exhaust me by day and then enthrall me at your time of sleeping
Always asking for more, lifting my soul and life
Every day is an adventure for us
As I discover the world in and through your eyes
Copyright © 2017 Kim Whysall-Hammond
I wrote this poem when my sons were much much younger….they are both adults now!