Category Archives: love

He Is Gone

A sad story from Glenys that has moved me greatly this morning:

lifecameos

She rang me from her home
at the far end of the country.

“He is not here,” she said.

“Is he in the hospice ?” I asked.

“They take me to see him
at the hospice every day.”

She said no  more
did not answer me
hung up.

I wrote to her instead.

_______________________

She rang me from her home
at the far end of the country.

“He is …. he is …. ” she said.

“I am so sorry  he is gone,”
I replied.

I persuaded her to tell me
who stayed with her
who cared for her.

The small private funeral
he requested spared her
much distress.

They are helping her
supporting her at home.

But he is gone.

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Translation

Lost between the words
is true meaning
the real message
perhaps the marriage
perhaps the correct diagnosis.
We all use metaphors
similes
when describing emotions and pains.
Doctors and spouses
should by rights be poets
for poetry conveys what is lost in translation.

Copyright © 2017 Kim Whysall-Hammond

A poem inspired by the quote:

Poetry is what gets lost in translation.
Robert Frost

Bookivore

Reading on a screen is a hollow sham

Handling a real book
Feeling it’s weight
Looking at its cover
(Often old fashioned)
Turning paper pages

The way a second hand poetry book
Can fall open at a poem
That was once loved
And repeatedly read
By a stranger

All pleasure

Copyright © 2017 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Another part of the daily challenge I’m following for a short while. This poem is in response to the prompt ‘pleasure’.

Your Eyes

It is your eyes that pierce me
Bright baby blue
In Sicily they marked you
Erroneously
As German
In Jordan, both men and girls followed you
Hoping to see your wonderful eyes again
It is your eyes that hold me
Windowing your soul
In your much loved face

Copyright © 2017 Kim Whysall-Hammond

 

For my love, and part of the daily challenge I’m following for a short while. This poem is in response to the prompt ‘Face’.

Gecko

Each siesta, my gecko came
Skittering across the mottled ceiling
Dancing over paint flakes
Lengthening his neck to peer down
At me

He would not leave his hiding hole
Until I laid me down to rest
In the Sicilian noonday heat
Then two sparkling gleaming eyes
Held vigil

Halfway between stick and snake
Sandy spiky little friend
Padded feet gripping to defy gravity
My curious Gecko watched over me
Literally

Once his powers failed him
And he plopped down onto my chest
I woke to see him face to face
And  find in those eyes
Understanding

Copyright © 2017 Kim Whysall-Hammond

gecko