Tag Archives: Life


Where do the deer go in the day?
Empty fields, busy lanes
shady woods — all the same
No deer.

Walk in the evening
there they flit
in the shadows.

Where do the deer go in the night?
Same as the day — out of sight.

Copyright © 2018 Kim Whysall-Hammond



Slender bones, delicately traced
staring grinning skulls.
No skin, no muscle,
no eyes, no heart or other parts.
Yet they tell a knowing eye many tales
of wounds healed, muscle strengths,
diseases and battles fought.
Indications of the life lived
And sometimes the death faced.

Copyright © 2018 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Coming of Age

Another great poem from Betty, and time I shared one with you…



He says she’s over the hill,

that she’s dancing

with entropy

toward the valley below


but she hears the call

of flickers, and the chitter

of squirrels,

and she sees ahead


lush meadows, tall trees,

and moss-covered stones

on the path

by a sapphire river.


There, she’ll follow the scent

of her own deep roots

to a range of mountains,

their tops hidden


in the subtleties he missed

between the lines

on her face

when e’er she smiled.



(c)  2018  Betty Hayes Albright


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We are Stardust

Orbital telescopes send home images
nebulae, glowing with colour
last remnants of fat, dying, exploded stars
lingering across the night sky
lighted by millennia old catastrophe

They are where the magic happens
atoms forged in burnt out stars
a deathbed bequest that has made us all

Copyright © 2018 Kim Whysall-Hammond


Clumsy, wavering shaky plod,
stomach awry, head pounding
sudden need to sleep.

Worrying about another fall in the dark
unable to focus, read, write
Uncertain when left alone

This loss of self all the more
frightening as it comes and goes
over years rather than the expected months

The spectre of brain injury
statistics showing a link to dementia
my life drifts part into soft shatters

Then my third Neurologist finds a treatment
and I clamber back up, armed with hope
after four years and a lost career


Copyright © 2018 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Autumnal slide

Autumn leaves colour lawns orange
Litter roads red
The long slide into the cold begins
Advent madness beckons
Like a siren
Calling us onto the rocks
Of family festivities, hidden lonelinesses, retail greed and envy
Soon rooftops will grow neon reindeer
Tinsel will be worn around necks at office parties
All too soon
It will be Christmas
Copyright © 2018 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Poetry and poems

Linguistic music, patternings, rhymes
Representations of being
A beautiful sunset
Snapshots of souls, of lives
Illumination, aliveness
Waves crashing on a beach
Poems about real life
Poems made out of nothing
Moonlight over mountains
The despair and anger of these days
All belong to poetry
Now, as ever

Copyright © 2018 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Inspired by an interview with the poet https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henri_Cole“>Henri Cole and written in response to those who think poems about nature and family are irrelevant and unpublishable.

At The Meat Chiller

Own up folks, we’ve all done something like this at some point. As usual Glenys captures these moments so well:


On a busy morning at the
supermarket meat chiller
I studied shelves of
sausages, chops, mince
and shin meat on the bone.
I tried to slide right
to see the chicken packs, lamb
knuckles, corned beef brisket
but the person to my right
simply would not move.
I sidestepped along slightly crowding
but still they did not move.

I turned to say “Excuse me !”
and found myself facing my
reflection in the mirror
on the end section wall.

Previously posted June 2016

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The Art of Living

The art of living appears to be in accepting the inevitable
Negotiating a peace with oneself
Making a treaty with the world
And then becoming free to really live

Copyright © 2016 Kim Whysall-Hammond

First blogged in 2016.

“The art of living lies less in eliminating our troubles than in growing with them.”
― Bernard M. Baruch
From http://dailyinspiration.me/