love
is a wild thing caught in a trap
trust
a glass bridge between us
Title from Alicia Ostriker
Copyright © 2019 Kim Whysall-Hammond
This week’s Meeting the Bar at the dVerse Poets Pub is all about marraige and couplets. The form I have chosen is the côte, a poem of uneven couplets attributed to John Schroeder, in which line 1 is a single imperative verb and line 2 is a glossing or expansion of line 1.
I will give you a poem when you wake tomorrow.
It will be a peaceful poem.
It won’t make you sad.
It won’t make you miserable.
It will simply be a poem to give you
When you wake tomorrow.
It was not written by myself alone.
I cannot lay claim to it.
I found it in your body.
In your smile I found it.
Will you recognise it?
You will find it under your pillow.
When you open the cupboard it will be there.
You will blink in astonishment,
Shout out, ‘How it trembles!
Its nakedness is startling! How fresh it tastes!’
We will have it for breakfast;
On a table lit by loving,
At a place reserved for wonder.
We will give the world a kissing open
When we wake tomorrow.
We will offer it to the sad landlord out on the balcony.
To the dreamers at the window.
To the hand waving for no particular reason
We will offer it.
An amazing and most remarkable thing,
We will offer it to the whole human race
Which walks in us
When we wake tomorrow.
By Brian Patten
Brian is one of my favourite poets, the Cheeseseller and I used to travel miles and miles to see him perform.
Form
doesn’t always follow function
Beauty
cannot always be seen
Love
is hardly ever symmetrical
Copyright © 2022 Kim Whysall-Hammond
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
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
The Cheesesellers Wife 