Category Archives: philosophy

When they came……(For Holocaust Remembrance Day)

First they came for the Communists
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a Communist

Then they came for the Socialists
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a Socialist

Then they came for the trade unionists
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a trade unionist

Then they came for the Jews
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a Jew

Then they came for me
And there was no one left
To speak out for me

 

Martin Niemöller

 

For Holocaust Memorial DayHolocaust_Memorial_Day_logo

To Stand and Stare?

How does the time disappear?
Water evaporates under direct heat.
Time evaporates
under a withering glut of
the unexpected
the unplanned
and unremembered.
Distractions distract.
People with no time steal yours
with delays and waiting.

And.
in this century,
with endless updates
on sites you should leave alone.

Copyright © 2018 Kim Whysall-Hammond

This poem was first posted by me in January 2018. I think that it is a good way to start the first working week of 2020 too….

 

Gains

What do we gain and gather
in all those places we go?

Close your eyes, see sunlight
glinting on childhood beaches
sunset over rust red desert
sunrise on a volcano

Smell all those breakfast coffees
your fathers home made burgers
your brothers socks
your lovers hair

You are the morning light
shafting through city streets
glinting from windows
bringing you home

Copyright © 2019 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Our strange stay here on Earth

We did not ask for this
we cannot control what we must
we can only rise to the times
and do what we see as right.
There is no one there to listen
no parent in the sky
we are the author of our souls
the believer in our faith
children of the universe.
Intellect and compassion?
Built solely from an interplay of atomic particles
our strange stay here on Earth
the true miracle of chance and physics

Copyright © 2016 Kim Whysall-Hammond

This poem was inspired by reading:

I have not asked for life.
But I try to accept whatever
life brings without surprise.
And I shall depart again without having
questioned anyone about my strange
stay here on earth.

Omar Khayyam

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Friday Poem: The message of Crazy Horse

 

I would sit in the center of the world,
the Black Hills hooped around me and
dream of my dancing horse. my wife
was Black Shawl who gave me the daughter
I called They Are Afraid Of Her.
I was afraid of nothing
except Black Buffalo Woman.
my love for her I wore
instead of feathers. I did not dance
I dreamed. I am dreaming now
across the worlds. my medicine is strong.
my medicine is strong in the Black basket
of these fingers. I come again through this
Black Buffalo woman. hear me;
the hoop of the world is breaking.
fire burns in the four directions.
the dreamers are running away from the hills.
I have seen it. I am crazy horse.

Friday Poem: The Cenotaph

The man in the Trilby hat has furtively shifted it;
The man with the clay pipe has pushed his fists deeper into his pockets;
Beparcelled women are straining their necks
To stare.
Through the spattered windows of the omnibus
We see,
Dumb beneath the rain,
Marshalled by careful policemen,
Four behind four,
The relatives of dead heroes,
Clutching damp wreaths.
Within the omnibus there is silence
But for a sniff.
Then a plump woman speaks,
Softly, unquerulously:
‘I wouldn’t’, she says,
‘I wouldn’t stand in a queue to have my feelings harrowed,
No myself, I wouldn’t.’
The omnibus swerves to the pavement,
And the plump woman
Prepares for equable departure.
‘But there,’ she adds unbitterly,
‘I often think it wouldn’t do
For us all to be alike.
There’s some as can’t,
But then, again,
There’s some, you see,
As can.’
Beautiful,
Plump woman,
(Plump of mind as well as of body)
Beautiful is your tolerance
Of human idiosyncrasy.
When my impatient feet would tap in irritation,
When my breath would break out in abuse,
When my scornful lips would frame themselves
(At the vices,
Or at the virtues,
Of my neighbours)
Into a sneer only half pitiful,
May I remember you
And murmur with serenity,
Without intensity,
Without virulence,
‘I wouldn’t,
Not myself,
But then, again,
There’s some, you see,
As can’.

by Ursula Roberts aka Susan Miles

Glory

And we stand upon this globe
Asking of the Universe
What?
Recognition?
Salvation?
Whatever you please
In it’s glory
(Shown by our ingenuity and craft
As we build orbital telescopes)
The Universe does not need us
Unless as an observer
Are we here simply to watch?
Look up, look up
Glory awaits

Copyright © 2017 Kim Whysall-Hammond

The thief of joy

Something rises within, a washing clean of care
a pleasuring in the day, the view, the loved one
simple feeling, untramelled
yet this joy is stolen so easily

You steal it from yourself as you watch
the seeming perfect lives of others
compare our lives and families
I watch you do this and weep

 

Copyright © 2019 Kim Whysall-Hammond

 

Inspired by The Total Abundance Project