The road is bejewelled with the lights of traffic
Red ribbon, white ribbon, snaking over the hills
Dark fields lie beside us as we wend our way
The villages we bypass shine stray lights to our eyes
I turn off the radio and drive in silence
Motoring into the dark, climbing and swooping
As the moon illuminates us all
I slide off at my junction taking the tight French style curve
And home beckons
Copyright © 2015 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Reblogged from 2015
I am drenched in stars
spangled with worlds
in nebula spattered night
until bone cold moon
rises high
glints with laughter
sends me scattering
to the safety of shadows
and the long wait for
another dusk.
Copyright © 2019 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Walking back from your house,
Orion calling to me over mine,
the glow at the next street light
burst into fluid noise, birdsong at midnight
rippling through our suburb
with no one but me to hear.
I should have gone back and got you,
taken you to hear.
But I’m still uncertain of your reaction,
pragmatic as you are,
and you need to get your students marking done.
The bird was calling out unheard
or heard only by me.
Just as you call and are unheard.
The idiot man who left you,
the sisters who think you should be
over it by now,
and only me, each Wednesday night
to listen to you as we paint.
Copyright © 2018 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Stars poured over sky
like water over stones
arcing through banks of vast dark.
An owl calls softly
so as to not break
the spell of night.
Copyright © 2018 Kim Whysall-Hammond
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
Stars pooled like milk at zenith
Coloured lights tracking across
Blinking
Deep night swallows all light
Here on the Moor
Copyright © 2017 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Duvet deep, traitor mind fishing worries
What if, why, random fears and wretchedness
Ghosts of the day parade
Surf past on a sickening tide, clasp at my heart
Until your warm arms exorcise
Copyright © 2017 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Driving in a roast red desert
Headlights staring into primeval dark
The untrammeled sky glorious
Above us a bridge of stars
Rivering between rocky horizons
At once near and so very far
Cricking my neck to see
I bounced around the back of the open jeep
Absorbing, amid the shudders, splendor
Star birth and death, worlds hidden by distance
Great glowing nebulae
Fat in the centre, a devouring black hole
Copyright © 2017 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Sleep takes you
Sleep takes you and whirls you around,
Swirling you along over the ground.
Then the ground looms and you veer away, desperately climbing up towards day.
Head over heels you tumble and fall,
Speeding down like a plane caught in a stall.
Loud ringing sounds out and you wake with a start,
Lying in bed with a hammering heart.
Copyright © 2015 Kim Whysall-Hammond
….re-blogged from 2015….
As I walked to the car
I looked up and there you were
As I drove home
You hung above the road
Guiding me
Like a Wise Man
Or rather
A foolish poet
Who has fallen in love
With the evening star
Copyright © 2017 Kim Whysall-Hammond
