Tag Archives: Life

Old Lady

We need more poems about getting old. Here is a wonderful one from Glenys:

lifecameos

Old lady blood problems
old lady pills.
Tiny toes dangle
from huge balloon feet.

Stretch marks cross my shin bones,
feet and ankles vanish.
Old lady giant ankles
more old lady pills.

Old people clipboard forms,
old people ‘flu jabs.
All line the waiting room
old people recovery time.

Old lady walks to town
fit as fit can be.
Old lady taxi home
after two hours’ shopping.

In my mind
I am middle aged
but my body keeps doing
old lady deeds.

Previously posted April 2016.

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Recluse

People drain, push through
boundaries, demand attention.
Childhood reclused with book after book
reading to the exclusion of most else,
an interior life but for the
vibrancy of a sunset, the thrill
of abstraction in flowing water
and then, at seventeen,
the bright blue art of your eyes.
The world and you, my love, stimulate
refresh, make me whole
give me myself once more.

Copyright © 2018 Kim Whysall-Hammond

As the UK goes into lockdown once more, this poem may explain why I really don’t mind about that…..

Careful!

I have to carry myself carefully
as I did when a small child prone to tripping
carrying flowers for Grandma
held tight in both hands
all along the road, almost to the moon
it felt, admonished to be careful
continually.
Clumsy they called me, lackadaisical
cack-handed
but my feet turned in
and a treatment had been refused

I have returned to my start it seems
after a fall in the dark
and a crack to the head
this wavering shaky plod
rather than that old vivid
stumbling run
makes me clumsy again

Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Time washes all clean

Washed ashore
bathed in pouring light
dissolving into sky
swashing across mud flats
in an infinity of loss
I am many and alone.
Vampire clouds gather above
come to subsume my part
into the whole.

Copyright © 2019 Kim Whysall-Hammond

‘Time washes all clean’ was first published in Issue 39 of the Irish poetry magazine ‘ The Blue Nib’ in September 2019

Winding Road


The winding road I walk
wanders through country hedges
stuffed full of brambles and bomb-weed
across hay meadows to where
gauze mist veils distant hills.
Rust red cows huddle by a gate
tails swishing away flies
and rooks shout from their rookery
hurling bird banter from tall tree to tall tree.
Later the Sun will lower down to the west
shadows will merge and meld
owls will hunt. But now
rabbits nibble in golden light
and a peace settles deep inside.

Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond

The weird font is due to my struggles with the new block editor. 

Friday Poem: From Another Hill by Yahya Kemal Beyatlı

I look at you from another hill, dear Istanbul!
I know you like back of my hand, and love you dearly.
Come, come sit on my heart’s throne as long as I live
Just to love a district of yours is worth a whole life.

There are many flourishing cities in the world.
But you’re the only one who creates enchanting beauty.
I say, he who has lived happily, in the longest dream,
Is he who spent his life in you, died in you, and was buried in you.

by Yahya Kemal Beyatlı

translated on the site All Poetry

..another Istanbul poem from Leonard Durso’s glorious website leonarddurso.com

The winding road


The winding road I walk
wanders through country hedges
stuffed full of brambles and bomb-weed
across hay meadows to where
gauze mist veils distant hills.
Rust red cows huddle by a gate
tails swishing away flies
and rooks shout from their rookery
hurling bird banter from tall tree to tall tree.
Later the Sun will lower down to the west
shadows will merge and meld
owls will hunt. But now
rabbits nibble in golden light
and a peace settles deep inside.

Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond Last week the new block editor allowed me to select a font for my posts. this week, this is not possible. I'm stuck with this weird typewriter font!

The Network Engineers

Me and my lads in the office
We like to chat and to call
Laugh at how shiny Nicks head is
And tell Andy he’s not very tall

It’s a big open plan sort of office
With desks jammed in several rows
We laugh and we joke and we banter
And everyone shares what they know

The boss really don’t like to come here
Looks down his nose on our fun
Says our chat is inappropriate
But without us his Network won’t run

We configure, programme and monitor
Run a network no one will believe
Complex, fast and enormous
We are proud of what we achieve

Whilst fingers dance over keyboards
And engineers cable in floors
I manage them and also I love them
For the jokes they put up on the doors

So my lads and I sit in that office
If we aren’t out mending the kit
Share pictures of Katy’s new baby
And tell David he’s not very fit.

Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond

 

This poem is a hymn to the team of Network Engineers that I had the pleasure to manage several years ago.  It was written in response to Jim Feeney’s Lads Poetry Project. His poems are a lot better than this one, here’s an excellent example :

https://stopdraggingthepanda.com/2020/07/08/rob-the-lads-poetry-project-3/

This poem is also part of the dVerse Poets Pub Open Link Night:  https://dversepoets.com/