Category Archives: Wild life

Green

Green rumbles rambles rolls and ripples
in all its shades and hues
rustles murmurs sways and drifts
floats on and under the waters of both
chill chalk stream and ocean
surfaces the land
spawns and augments tall trees
defines jungles, swamps, farmland
cools and shades, feeds and shelters
sparkled with daisies
strewn with buttercups
cut red with poppy wounds

Green is waste light reflected back from leaves
by the quantum machine of photosynthesis
that powers all life

Copyright © 2019 Kim Whysall-Hammond

‘Green’ was first published in the Environs issue of Snakeskin: http://www.snakeskinpoetry.co.uk/

Bone, bird and air

Bone, bird and air
conspire to create grace
joy, a tumbling skydance
life exuberant, bright
triumphant over cold and hunger
here this icy winter day
knitted in those bones
are genes we share
we each breath the air
but only she flies
painting her joy onto the sky
cavorting into heaven

Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Too hot, too hot

Like tracks in the snow
Little lives go
In our melting

 

Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Not the poem I thought I was going to write, but the one that came. Another is brewing, but this one is for all the small lives lost in forest fires everyhere…..

Written in reponse to Earthweals challenge ‘Ghosts’ at

https://earthweal.com/2020/01/13/weekly-challenge-ghosts/

Please go and see what else is there!

And somehow the ocean

Sun glints pierce my eyes
as we hit another wave
rise
slide into the trough
the apogee
our horizon is limitless
oceanic expanse
seemingly bereft of life
the unharvestable blue
then the cackle of dolphins
arrests our attention
away from the discipline of waves

Snub noses pierce the surface
laughing beeps beckon
closeby
then further into the swell
we hesitate and a challenge is issued
repeatedly
until we speed up and run alongside
then within
an enormous crowd
of joyous fellows

Copyright © 2019 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Crow castle

The north east tower is crenelated
with argumentative crows
black scrawny scribbles silhouetted high
against an evening sky
scattering upwards as we ascend to the roof
swooping possessively while we linger
they are the true posessers of this place
winners after centuries of fighting

The monument below may celebrate
a Welsh warrior princess
but up here crows
celebrate the sky

Copyright © 2019 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Friday Poem: The Combe

The Combe was ever dark, ancient and dark.
Its mouth is stopped with bramble, thorn, and briar;
And no one scrambles over the sliding chalk
By beech and yew and perishing juniper
Down the half precipices of its sides, with roots
And rabbit holes for steps. The sun of Winter,
The moon of Summer, and all the singing birds
Except the missel-thrush that loves juniper,
Are quite shut out. But far more ancient and dark
The Combe looks since they killed the badger there,
Dug him out and gave him to the hounds,
That most ancient Briton of English beasts.

By Edward Thomas

Sunday in Spring

Two fields over, Rooks argue
a raucous parley that
goes on and on and on
while other birds sing prettily

Here in the meadow we have knelt
as if worshipping
to peer at tiny pink blooms
wobbling on a frail stem

On the way home
we walk a green lane
lambs call behind a hawthorn hedge
a ewe responds, deep voiced

Pretty bird song
clamorous rooks, bountiful sheep
tremulous flower

Are all remnants
Of a greater whole
Nature worn ragged

Broken
By our actions
Or inactions

And I feel the need to
kneel once more
in supplication
and in fear

Copyright © 2019 Kim Whysall-Hammond