Tag Archives: Life


She feeds on her memories
lives as best she can
not needing to work
but building the garden
as he might have wanted.
Enjoying the Sun that he cannot
waiting without despair
until the end.

Copyright © 2018 Kim Whysall-Hammond


They looked and turned away

They looked and turned away
Londoners afraid to interact
With the girl sitting, weeping
On a stinkingly hot day in the city
Exclaiming that she had gone blind
Oversized suitcase abandoned near her feet
My feet
Someone pushed a cold drink into my hand
A woman’s voice comforted me
A stranger joined me on the step, asked where I was going
Told me that a long hot walk carrying a load
Had affected my sight
Sat until, miraculously, my sight returned
Then left
Pulling myself to my feet
I retrieved the offending suitcase
Slowly made my way to the Tube station
Continued my journey, moving from London to Oxford
Changing university, leaving friends and home city
Aiming for a Doctorate, I should have noted the omen
For I found loneliness and heartache

Copyright © 2016 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Originally published by Silver Birch Press at



We worry about you, our dear boy,
as if, by worrying, we can affect
your journey through life.
It is a parent’s lot to be apprehensive.
But we must take pleasure, bury  fears,
lift our fledgling to the sky
and laugh delightedly as you fly away.
We need to grow
to trust your endurance
to give you to the universe.

Copyright © 2018 Kim Whysall-Hammond


Unimaginably ancient, preserving moments in time;
billion year old pebbles from unknown floods
bones fallen into an ancient abyss
ten thousand year old footprints along an English estuary.
Sitting on a rock, you touch time.

Rocks move. They melt and set, erode to dust
and then the dust settles
forms new rock over time almost unimaginable.
This undulating plain formed at great depths
was thrust up to mountainous heights
now lies placid for your walking comfort.

Go find a rock
and travel in time and space.

Copyright © 2018 Kim Whysall-Hammond


Brief bloom

We are a brief bloom
On the fragile skin
Of a molten body
Encircling a massive furnace

We are a blossoming of sentience
With encrusted technologies
Craving wonder, hoping for company
Seeking knowledge and excitement

We truly are stardust
Our bodies built from atoms
Forged in successive stellar explosions
We crave the glories of the Universe

We are Human

Copyright © 2016 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Re-blogged from last year




If every man is an island and each woman too,
what of rising tides and the oncoming sea?
Icebergs drop into frigid waters  releasing their fresh water load
corals bleach and die, damaging encircling protective reefs
plastics pervade our ocean to clog, choke and kill.
A tsunami of ill news, a tempest of emotions.

The tide is coming in,
where is your causeway?

Copyright © 2018 Kim Whysall-Hammond

To be a pilgrim

Who would true valour see,
Let him come hither;
One here will constant be,
Come wind, come weather.
There’s no discouragement
Shall make him once relent
His first avowed intent,
To be a pilgrim.

Whoso beset him round
With dismal stories
Do but themselves confound;
His strength the more is.
No lion can him fright,
He’ll with a giant fight,
But he will have a right
To be a pilgrim.

Hobgoblin, nor foul fiend,
Can daunt his spirit:
He knows, he at the end
Shall life inherit.
Then fancies fly away,
He’ll fear not what men say,
He’ll labour night and day
To be a pilgrim.

John Bunyan

Although I am not religious, I was brought up within the Church of England, and we had a Christian service every morning at school. So I grew  up singing many fine old hymns that stay with me today. One such was ‘To be a pilgrim’ a poem by John Bunyan set to music by  Ralph Vaughan Williams using the traditional Sussex melody “Monk’s Gate“.  I love it deeply and thought I’d share the original poem with you today.

I know several hymns completely to heart, including Blake’s  ‘Jerusalem’ (as all good Englishwomen and cricket lovers should), as well as the lesser known ‘Hills of the North rejoice’.

Its interesting that I remember the poetic ones…..

Give me the night

Give me the night, for darkness is where creation happens.
That same night where fears emerge
in which the future cannot be seen
is also where love is made
where magic happens
where we are renewed.

Let there be light, but no, not yet.
Darkness enfolds, cherishes.
Dark matter and energy make up most of the universe
without them none of this would exist.
We were animated and brought into existence
by and in the dark.

Let us now go to the dark places for answers.

Copyright © 2018 Kim Whysall-Hammond