Tag Archives: lockdown

Walking in the Park

They have mown the grass in the park
Well, most of it
The scent is wonderful
It has been left long on the Bronze Age burial mounds
Where the wild grass flowers form a purpled haze
Behind, Foxgloves spike up from the drainage ditch  into the hedge
I walk up the southern mound to find the stone marked PEACE
Commemorating more recent dead from civil war
The sky is littered with clouds white and gray
As its blue darkens towards twilight
On this long June evening
After a day of rain
The scent of new mown grass says
Summer

Copyright © 2016 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Friday Poem: Everything Is Going to Be All Right

How should I not be glad to contemplate
the clouds clearing beyond the dormer window
and a high tide reflected on the ceiling?
There will be dying, there will be dying,
but there is no need to go into that.
The poems flow from the hand unbidden
and the hidden source is the watchful heart.
The sun rises in spite of everything
and the far cities are beautiful and bright.
I lie here in a riot of sunlight
watching the day break and the clouds flying.
Everything is going to be all right.
by Derek Mahon

 

With many many thanks to Bjorn Paige who brought this poem to my attention.

https://bjornpaige.wordpress.com/2020/06/09/three-sparks-of-joy/#like-7580

I have broken my own rules with this Friday poem, as it has not come from one of my poetry books. In my defence, I will say that

1/  This is brilliant, and very right for these times, although written several years ago.

2/ I am reading a lot of poetry online at this present time……  :)

Where are my Coyotes?

Other feet now tread the streets
Hooves, pads and claws
Wildness leaks into urban
But
Where are my Coyotes?

Blackbirds loudly call and cry
Rabbits hop on lawns and lanes
No jets disturb the birds of prey
Yet
Where are my Coyotes?

Sheep loiter at McDonalds
Goats skip on empty roads
Britain sees her wildlife play
But
Where are my Coyotes?

 
I’ve seen the pictures on the news
Coyotes in SF and LA
I’ve been good in lockdown
Haven’t I?
WHERE ARE MY COYOTES?

Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond
 

Sunshine in Darkness

Rain and fear had washed away the Sun
Her colours run ragged in the rain
But primroses and daffodils kept
The memory of brightness

Neither of us speak today
Or find a want of speaking
Here now, there is sunshine
And a garden

We use old logs, dead plant stems
To build a bug hotel
A haven and shelter
Still keeping 2 metres apart

Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Front Door

I met so many people
painting our first front door
but it wasn’t just painting
it never is.
First chipping away rotten wood
and then an artful working of filler
to recreate the simple mouldings
a grey undercoat that smooths
before, finally
a loving coat of shiny navy blue.

It too all of a long day
on a very busy street
first the postman gave advice
then the guy delivering newspapers
to the shop three doors away
commented on how few women
paint front doors
our roofer stopped to say hello
and discuss the precarious roof
a new neighbour introduced themselves
complemented my work
offered friendship
finally my parents arrived
unexpectedly
and made tea.

I remember this, as I hide behind
another front door in another house.
We wipe its UPVC surface with alcohol
to remove virus, and
don’t touch the mail until its a day old,
no live virus on it then.
This front door isn’t elderly wood
but hidden steel within shiny white.
When we lock it, nine bolts
shoot from its interior
into the strengthened frame.
In its centre a double glazed
stained glass window
made from a drawing of mine
a Red Kite wheeling in sky
looking for the windpath
my bird of prey guarding me.

Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond

front-door-kwh

First published by published by Silver Birch Press:

https://silverbirchpress.wordpress.com/2020/04/06/front-doors-by-kim-whysall-hammond-my-front-door-series/

Poem: “Front Doors” is now up at Silver Birch Press

My poem, “Front Doors” is now up at the wonderful Silver Birch Press:

https://silverbirchpress.wordpress.com/2020/04/06/front-doors-by-kim-whysall-hammond-my-front-door-series/

This poem was writen three weeks ago when we were very worried that our eldest son was suffering from Corona Virus. He is well now!

The Need to Escape (La necesidad de evasión)

Read, reflect, enjoy:

Waterblogged

The Quote of the Week / La cita de la semana:

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry (1900-1944)

There is a cheap literature that speaks to us of the need of escape. It is true that when we travel we are in search of distance. But distance is not to be found. It melts away. And escape has never led anywhere. The moment a man finds that he must play the races, go the Arctic, or make war in order to feel himself alive, that man has begun to spin the strands that bind him to other men and to the world. But what wretched strands! A civilisation that is really strong fills man to the brim, though he never stir. What are we worth when motionless, is the question.


Hay una mala literatura que nos ha hablado de la necesidad de evasión. Por supuesto, uno emprende viaje en busca de extensión; pero…

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