Tag Archives: nature

Friday Poem: High Flight

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air….
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace.
Where never lark, or even eagle flew —
And, while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
– Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.


by Pilot Officer John Gillespie Magee, Jr, RCAF, 1941

Pruning

Our blousey algebraist rose
has scrambled, fingers outstretched
up into trees, along the fence,
twisted through a rival honeysuckle
like frantic cancer.
After years of decorous ornamenting
a strike for sovereignty, a garden takeover.
So I now prune and clip, curtail the party
while mourning all these soft pink flowers.

Copyright © 2022 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Friday Poem: Kinship

Very slowly burning, the big forest tree
stands in the slight hollow of the snow
melted around it by the mild, long
heat of its being and its will to be
root, trunk, branch, leaf, and know
earth dark, sun light, wind touch, bird song.

Rootless and restless and warmblooded, we
blaze in the flare that blinds us to that slow,
tall, fraternal fire of life as strong
now as in the seedling two centuries ago.

by Ursula Le Guin

A poem for Fake Flamencos June challenge

This poem is in the form of a naani poem. Naani means: expressing one and all in theTelugu language. This form originated in India from the Telugu poet, Dr. N. Gopi. A naani has four lines with a total of 20-25 syllables and no title. It was written for Rebecca over at Fake Flamenco as part of her June Poetry Challenge :

Grey dawn is a stranger
Yet I remember
Gulls on a clay flat beach
Frost sparkling a forbidden lawn

Copyright © 2022 Kim Whysall-Hammond

High on the Downs

Long grasses sift the evening wind
scent it with pollens
stars prickle through high cloud

somewhere, Skylark still sings
finishing the day shift
elsewhere, Owl calls
announcing night

dusk empties the land
of humanity
all close together
in their dim shelters

here on the ridge
Hare comes close
closer
black tipped ears erect

we return her stare
for what seems
forever

Copyright © 2022 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Written for this weeks  earthweal weekly challenge: SPIRITS OF PLACE

Scrabbling

I am scrabbling for a word
To describe the noise of chickens
Scrabbling in the garden

It isn’t rustling
The leaves above are doing that
Rustle is a high pitched word
I need a lower pitch
Mustle, grustle
Tustle is what one hen is doing with a worm

Now there’s a sudden outbreak of snail football
The snail always loses

It’s life

On this sunny afternoon
Maybe it’s scrabbling after all

Copyright © 2017 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Flockdown has ended here in England, my hens can now roam across the garden once more!

Beloved Hills

Fathoms of microcreatures
that once lived bright lives
in an ancient topographic ocean
died, drifted, finally settled
into dark abyssal depths
in unfathomable time they
dried, were compressed,
eventually uplifted
became the chalk that
now underlies the rich flowery turf
of my beloved hills

Copyright © 2022 Kim Whysall-Hammond

This is a Quadrille, written in response to a prompt on Dverse, where we had to use the word ‘chalk’ somewhere in our poem.

I feel like I have cheated a bit, as many of my poems are about the chalk hills of southern England. For example: