Tag Archives: nature

Octopi  

In tidal pools with their
time melted crab shells and
dribs and drabs of bright green seaweed
are many octopi
legs self entangled
magenta skin turning sweet rose
in sunny waters

It needs gentle prods with a
boot toe to confirm death
so fresh they look
no one else walking the busy
windswept beach seems
to notice or care

In one pool
a larger octopus is beached
as if trying to crawl
to escape back to the estuary
her tentacle tip touching
a bluegray pebble in supplication

Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Friday Poem: The Seasons in North Cornwall

O Spring has set off her green fuses
Down by the Tamar today,
And careless, like tide-marks, the hedges,
Are bursting with almond and may.

Here lie I waiting for old summer,
A red face and straw-coloured hair has he:
I shall meet him on the road from Marazion
And the Mediterranean Sea.

September has flung a spray of rooks
On the sea-chart of the sky,
The tall shipmasts crack in the forest
And the banners of autumn fly.

My room is a bright glass cabin,
All Cornwall thunders at my door,
And the white ships of winter lie
In the sea-roads of the moor.

by Charles Causley

Full of trees and Words

Tree limbs reach out
grab the evening sun
today my mind has been
full of trees and words

Their canopy is shelter
clerestory, the centre
of green life
that great Spring pump of sap upwards
the heartbeat of every forest

Plant a tree knowing it will outlive you
breathe life in the world
the weight of your feet
firming the earth
around its roots
simple midwifery

In trees are stories, histories
the future

Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond

 

Green

Green rumbles rambles rolls and ripples
in all its shades and hues
rustles murmurs sways and drifts
floats on and under the waters of both
chill chalk stream and ocean
surfaces the land
spawns and augments tall trees
defines jungles, swamps, farmland
cools and shades, feeds and shelters
sparkled with daisies
strewn with buttercups
cut red with poppy wounds

Green is waste light reflected back from leaves
by the quantum machine of photosynthesis
that powers all life

Copyright © 2019 Kim Whysall-Hammond

‘Green’ was first published in the Environs issue of Snakeskin: http://www.snakeskinpoetry.co.uk/

Bone, bird and air

Bone, bird and air
conspire to create grace
joy, a tumbling skydance
life exuberant, bright
triumphant over cold and hunger
here this icy winter day
knitted in those bones
are genes we share
we each breath the air
but only she flies
painting her joy onto the sky
cavorting into heaven

Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Bye bye Blackbird

Last spring the laurel hedge by my window was empty
No chirruping, calling, no rustling of glossy leaves
No fledglings edging off the nest onto twigs and then the adjacent fence
No wobbling and frantic flapping as parents patiently cajole
No triumphant flights to the Rose bushes
Only to tumble to the grass
As the chosen twig was too thin

I didn’t see a blackbird in my garden all summer
An oven of a season, hot, glaring, unseasonal in England
I mourn the fathers melodies, sung full voiced to advent dawn
The mother following me, chatting as she pirated fallen chicken feed
All those babies, remember the funeral my small sons conducted
For a tiny one found dead mid-lawn

Our erstwhile neighbours
Missing, presumed…..?

Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond

A second poem written in reponse to Earthweal’s challenge ‘Ghosts’ at

https://earthweal.com/2020/01/13/weekly-challenge-ghosts/

Please go and see what else is there!

This poem is also a direct reponse to Sumana Roy’s poem “Bring them Back”

https://gangulisumana60.wordpress.com/2020/01/13/bring-them-back/

 

Too hot, too hot

Like tracks in the snow
Little lives go
In our melting

 

Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Not the poem I thought I was going to write, but the one that came. Another is brewing, but this one is for all the small lives lost in forest fires everyhere…..

Written in reponse to Earthweals challenge ‘Ghosts’ at

https://earthweal.com/2020/01/13/weekly-challenge-ghosts/

Please go and see what else is there!

Dark Land

Night has come
the land is dark
waiting for moonrise

Owl trembles in her branches
rabbit watches from her hole
vixen eyes the shape before her

Something moves brokenly
twists and turns
into a new form

Screams in anguish
agony and terror
as moonlight strikes

 

Copyright © 2019 Kim Whysall-Hammond

There is an English tradition for ghost and spooky stories at Christmas and New Year.