Tag Archives: Dverse

What I cannot eat

Deep brown sozzled cakes full with raisins, sultanas and rum
crisp toast with lashings of salted creamy yellow butter
hot roast homegrown potatoes that sizzle and sing
white fish huge with crisp golden batter
chips soft and bendy with fat
tempura

Copyright © 2022 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Over at d’Verse, Misky has asked us to write a poem about food. I’m on a low carb diet, heading for Diabetes remission. This little poem is an ode to those foods I can no longer eat, as I steadily reduce…….

Riddle me ree…

Two riddles for diverse (https://dversepoets.com/2022/04/21/meet-the-bar-with-riddles-guess-right-or-be-devoured/)

I’m a hot head
Once took you to bed
When I’m young I’m tall
When I’m old I’m small

Without wings I fly
Without eyes I cry
During my flight
I darken day and night

Can you guess them?

The bells, the bells….

Church bells have many voices
joyous peals clamour across Saturday weddings
bellow for Sunday attendance
toll sonorous to the dead
but at Wednesday evening practice
the tonal song and dance differs
depends who is pulling the rope
sometimes tempestuous
sometimes a quivering drone
other times the bells
(and the seething listener)
may beseech release
from an idiot beginner

Copyright © 2022 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Today,  dVerse asks us to celebrate thesaurus day and write a poem that includes at least one word from each of the categories below:

  • bellow; clink; drone; jingle; quiver;
  • clamour; dissonant; rip-roaring; tempestuous; vociferous;
  • dulcet; honeyed; poetic; sonorous; tonal;
  • blabber; cackle; dribble; gurgle; seethe;
  • beseech; chant; drawl; embellish; intone

Love in the time of Covid

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

Starlorn in the Aftergloom

Adrift on infectious tides
wandering and wondering
we are in craxis

No action should be aimless now
but if only they could be
and we were free again

Copyright © 2021 Kim Whysall-Hammond

This poem was written in response to a prompt at Dverse, where we are challenged to write poetry using one or more of ten words selected from The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows, by John Koenig.  

I have used three:

Starlorn: a sense of loneliness looking up at the night sky, feeling like a castaway in the middle of the ocean, whose currents are steadily carrying off all other castaways.

Aftergloom: the pang of loneliness you feel the day after an intensely social event, as the glow of voices and laughter fades into a somber quiet.

Craxis: the unease of knowing how quickly your circumstances could change on you- that no matter how carefully you shape your life into what you want it to be, the whole thing could be overturned in an instant.

Loom Weight

A loom weight lost these many millennia
sits proud on heavy soil
held in my hand, it speaks of loving toil
the spinning of fabric
to clothe a family
and a connection is made
she spoke ancient Greek
a colonist deep in Sicily’s heartland
I stroke the fingerprint left in once moist clay
and say Hello

Copyright © 2017 Kim Whysall-Hammond

For Dverse

This loom weight was fund in Western Sicily, whilst I was working on an archeological survey many many years ago. It came home with me and I still look at her fingerprint and say hello……

Fragmentary

1. Stating the Obvious
Poetry surfs on a wave of words
heading for the beach of simile
metaphor dunes. If you surf too long
the moment is gone

2. Poor lost instrument
Trapped in your tower
they no longer use you to search the heavens
battered and bruised, missing parts
you lurk in darkness
if only I could find glass plates
unwrap them, set them in place
open the dome
set you free

3. Flower
I held a flower in my hand
delicate, whole, perfect
a small world within itself
and, as we searched for a gate
a stile, by which to leave the field
I crushed it

Copyright © 2021 Kim Whysall-Hammond

For DVerse.

The challenge from Laura over at dverse is to write a poem consisting of fragments:

“Either:
a poem of several numbered stanzas. Each being complete in itself and having only a passing relationship to each other, if at all
OR
a poem of disjointed images (like listening to conversation in passing, repetitively switching between radio/tv station, random images across a screen, or paintings/photos seen in a gallery)

Rules:
Your poem should NOT conform to any rhyme scheme
Your poem MUST include Fragment(s) somewhere in the title”

Who lives here?

Smoke rises from a broad stout chimney
set in a scorched tiled roof
pushing past tall grasses
and gone to seed poppies

I find a large casement and
look through to see a small pantry
lined with deep wooden shelves
each full of meat joints blown with flies

From a smaller dirty window I see
a mound of glittering coins
dotted with golden torcs and platters
a clue to danger

Time to run!

Copyright © 2021 Kim Whysall-Hammond

In the gardens and the fields

Over twenty years after the end
gardens still had hollow mounds
or curved corrugated tin domes half buried
some doing duty as tool sheds
many simply as they were
when the bombing stopped
full of the detritus of nights spent sheltering
while death flew overhead

Mounds and tunnels  riddled
our playing fields
dry brick-lined hiding places
against bombers seeking factories
and factory workers
to blast and wreck
we used them  for massive games of hide and seek

London streets had many gaps
festooned with stately spires of
purple flowers, amid mossy rubble
the occasional crumpled saucepan
so much broken crockery

As a child, my father collected bullets and bomb shards
watched fighters fall crashing out of the sky
and ran to collect souvenirs while the metal was still hot

I and my brothers knew wars last remnants
and played amongst ghosts

Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Bjorn is the host at dVerse, and is asking for poetry about war. Thankfully I have no direct experience. This poem is a slight re-write of one I wrote a while ago.