At the hotel of lost companions
love like poison floods the pool
we choose to speak of anger and strife
yet, on a wild sweet thought
the lion and the lamb
are chasing shadows
Copyright © 2022 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Tag Archives: Friends
Old friends
You cannot make new old friends
So take care to keep them to the end
Copyright © 2022 Kim Whysall-Hammond
This poem is written in response to Rebeccas February poetry challenge.
This month the poetic form is a pareado (from two, like pair). The pareado comes from traditional Spanish poetry for sayings and advice.
To a Distant Friend
Winter has brought new fears
new covids, colds, and flu
will our jabs hold up?
can I hug at Christmas?
Will I get to see you?
Copyright © 2021 Kim Whysall-Hammond
This little poem is a Flamenca poem.
The form comes from the Flamenco songs of the Roma people. The structure is a quintain; five lines. The number of syllables; 6-6-5-6-6. Challenging bit: The second and fifth verses share assonance; the rhyming of stressed vowels (equinox; thought) or words with the same consonant and a different vowel (night; naught).
It was written in response to Rebecca’s December Poetry Challenge at Fake Flamenco. She is asking for poems about winter — I’m afraid mine is a bit gloomy though…..
Go an give it a try!
Rose Bower
for Gita, wherever you are
Enchantment beckoned at the end of your garden
many climbing roses intertwined into a
a concealing bower where
we spied on hidden lovers
hunted magic deer that leapt
skywards and away from
our orbital arrows that encircled the world
we swapped shoes and dresses
each handmade by our mothers
each smelling so different
you said all my people smelled of milk
I thought all yours were spice scented
and beautiful
we kissed each others palms
held our breath as pirate raiders crept by
evaded an amorous Sultan
sucked the tart sweetness of pomegranates
taken from your mothers kitchen
we found brambles amid the blooms
you did not know blackberries at all
then loved them more than pomegranate
because they grew in our magic place
you mother thought they were dirty
like me
we thought this would go on forever
that we would grow up together
then, you were suddenly gone
moved away to where
a school would accept an Ugandan Asian girl
Copyright © 2021 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Full Moon
I wave at the man
Smiling in his immensity
Sketched out by mountains and lava flows
And call him friend
He has lit my way home
Coloured my evenings
Lit up my childhood
With dreams of space travel
How many others see him this way
The Man in the Moon?
Copyright © 2016 Kim Whysall-Hammond
For Nesa, who loved this poem of mine, but didn’t see a man in the moon. As she told me in 2016:
“You see a man in the moon. I see a rabbit, crouched down, ears sticking up. Have seen him since I was a child and still watch for him to follow me home.”
We all miss you Nesa, so much……
Cold
Foggy days in old Amsterdam
When rooftops hide in the gloom
Hoar frost sparkles tattered bushes
Tram windows mist up
Flying home to unexpected chill
House cold as a tomb
Huddling around an electric heater
Sipping tea, as the gas boiler struggles
Bright morning, glowing sunshine
Garden frosted like a Christmas cake
Hens fluffed up against the chill
We miss the warmth of good friends
Copyright © 2016 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Oh, to be with friends in Amsterdam again…..sigh…….
Friends
Friend who is more than family
who is vital to you, one you cannot lose
Friend who is more like family
meaning you hardly speak to each other
Friend who is also your lover/husband/wife
Friend who is no longer a friend because
she decided to be someone else’s friend
Facebook friend who is not really a friend
Friend you have lost somewhere on the way
Friend you forgot
Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond
The Funeral
There is a ghost at your funeral today
a face so familiar, still loved
my friend, your wife
gone these twenty years
now you too have left us
we all stand stunned
grieving
missing your expansive
presence in our lives
Looking over the crowd
I see eyes, cheek bones, jawline
the image of her mother
your much loved step daughter
wiping away fond tears
Copyright © 2019 Kim Whysall-Hammond
This summer we lost Martin Hoare. A great presence and a good friend. We were standing-room only at the funeral, his coffin was a TARDIS and the committal music was the Dr Who theme tune — which turned out to be quite moving. At the end, we all sang ‘Always look on the bright side’ and we all had tears running down our cheeks.
….and then as we left, I saw the ghost…..
Friday poem: Though you are in your shining days
Though you are in your shining days
Voices among the crowd
And new friends busy with your praise
Be not unkind or proud
But think about old friends the most:
Time’s bitter flood will rise
Your beauty perish and be lost
For all eyes but these eyes.
Listening
Walking back from your house,
Orion calling to me over mine,
the glow at the next street light
burst into fluid noise, birdsong at midnight
rippling through our suburb
with no one but me to hear.
I should have gone back and got you,
taken you to hear.
But I’m still uncertain of your reaction,
pragmatic as you are,
and you need to get your students marking done.
The bird was calling out unheard
or heard only by me.
Just as you call and are unheard.
The idiot man who left you,
the sisters who think you should be
over it by now,
and only me, each Wednesday night
to listen to you as we paint.
Copyright © 2018 Kim Whysall-Hammond
The Cheesesellers Wife 