The middle ground of politics
A whitewashed wall
My desk on a Friday
Those who make fools of us all
A child’s face when sleeping
My days when concussed
The first page in the notebook
The teenager who cannot be fussed
Long roads on the prairie
The black deep of space
Drowsy afternoons in sunshine
Most members it seems of the human race
Copyright © 2016 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Re-blogged from 2016
The ultimate song about a British Christmas:
Are you hanging up a stocking on your wall?
It’s the time that every Santa has a ball
Does he ride a red nosed reindeer?
Does a ton-up on his sleigh?
Do the fairies keep him sober for a day?
So here it is Merry Christmas
Everybody’s having fun
Look to the future now
It’s only just begun.
Are you waiting for the family to arrive?
Are you sure you got the room to spare inside?
Does your granny always tell ya
That the old songs are the best
Then she’s up and rock and rollin’ with the rest?
So here it is Merry Christmas
Everybody’s having fun
Look to the future now
It’s only just begun.
What will your daddy do when he sees
Your mama kissin’ Santa Claus
Ah ah
Are you hanging up a stocking on your wall?
Are you hoping that the snow will start to fall
Do you ride on down the hillside
In a buggy you have made?
When you land upon your head
Then you bin slayed.
So here it is Merry Christmas
Everybody’s having fun
Look to the future now
It’s only just begun.
It’s Christmas Eve and the kitchen is a mess
everything crusted with flour as more pastry is made
because someone has eaten all the mince pies already.
The jelly stuffed full of Rum soaked sponges has finally set
providing a foundation for our Christmas Trifle
and the Christmas Cake has been iced
with red rocketships rather than holly.
Meanwhile someone is melting dark chocolate
to make a Yule Log the way Grandad used to
and not looking guilty at all.
I smile and close the door on my adult sons as
their chocolate fuelled laughter resounds in my ears.
Christmas is finally here!
Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond
This poem has appeared here for the last two years, but I want to share it once again! It describes our own little Christmas Eve tradition, where our two sons spend Christmas Eve in the Kitchen making Trifle and baking cakes and Mince Pies.
This tradition started any years ago, when I would leave the bulk of the Christmas baking until Christmas Eve, and have an all day marathon with my two little boys. By the time Daddy came home from work, they were happy and above all tired. Not over excited at all, so sleep came easy to them and Father Christmas (aka Dad) could drink his Calvados, eat his mince pie and fill those stockings.
The mess is a family joke –when they were young, somehow the house on Christmas Eve was littered with floury handprints…
After two lockdown Christmases, someone is able to spend Xmas with us once more. Hurray!!!!!
It is probably time to out the someone who always eats the first batch of Mince pies — it is our eldest son…….
here is some British Christmas fun – from the Royal Navy as they came home from a long deployment in December 2011. This video always gets me in the mood for Christmas.
Merry Christmas Everybody!
Bloody men are like bloody buses
You wait for about a year
And as soon as one approaches your stop
Two or three others appear.
You look at them flashing their indicators,
Offering you a ride.
You’re trying to read the destinations,
You haven’t much time to decide.
If you make a mistake, there is no turning back.
Jump off, and you’ll stand there and gaze
While the cars and the taxis and lorries go by
And the minutes, the hours, the days.
by Wendy Cope (a great living English poet!)
She calls it Moo-juice
in a trying-hard-to-be-cute way.
He winces, wonders why she does this
then is lost once more in her eyes.
I watch, hopefully furtive, observing
the locals in their native habitat
Copyright © 2022 Kim Whysall-Hammond
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:
Someone is eating my pears
He sits on the branches and stares
He’s a very pretty pidgeon
Who should take only a smidgeon
But takes as much as he dares
Copyright © 2021 Kim Whysall-Hammond
A Quick limerick for you today. Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible. Hubby and I are feeling rather poorly at present.
So we came off the plane
and they met us with a car
took us hungry and tired
to a huge Sushi bar
Two girls they thought us
tried to phase us with raw fish
but we were Londoners
we could devour any dish
Next night they tried Rogan Josh
after a long day of negotiation
Grinning, we upped the chilli
scoffed it down without hesitation
Then there was the brewery where
they planned to drink us under the table
but we were women of the world
always ready and able
To match them beer for beer
and whiskey for whiskey
and then when they were plastered
one of the idiots tried to get frisky
We threw them out the door
turned up in the office next morning
clinched the deal at cost price
while they were hungover and yawning
Copyright © 2021 Kim Whysall-Hammond
My Marketing Manager & I went to Ann Arbor in the late 1990s to secure a software deal for a coalition of the worlds airlines. The American negotiators tried all sort of tricks to put us “girls” (as they kept calling us) on the back foot. But expecting to out curry or out drink Londoners is simply naive. :)
This poem is a true story — although I’ve missed out the Mexican Chilli house and the Greek restaurant. Did they really think Greek was strange foreign food to a Londoner????? We led the dancing and plate throwing that night!
I was inspired by an excellent poem over at Jims blog: High Plains Sushi
They crane, rotate, jerk
goof their necks around
taking a series of snapshots
looking for the main chance
make significant snap judgments about the speed and distance of a target
insect, mouse, frog, slug
or the neighbours cat
Do not question their motives
lest they destroy you.
Copyright © 2021 Kim Whysall-Hammond
The Cheesesellers Wife 