Tag Archives: poem

Time in the dark

Born not in darkness but in a glory of light
glowing plasma heralding
time to come.
Wrapped in dust, avidly gravitating
acquiring debris, gathering and heating
shaping, moulding
to planetary status.

Time builds further complexities
molecular forms, moving, reproducing
that bloom in awareness
become intelligences
who eventually come to know
that stars are
born not in darkness but in a glory of light.

Copyright © 2019 Kim Whysall-Hammond

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Friday Poem: How sour sweet music is

Ha, ha! keep time: how sour sweet music is,
When time is broke and no proportion kept!
So is it in the music of men’s lives.
And here have I the daintiness of ear
To cheque time broke in a disorder’d string;
But for the concord of my state and time
Had not an ear to hear my true time broke.
I wasted time, and now doth time waste me;
For now hath time made me his numbering clock:
My thoughts are minutes; and with sighs they jar
Their watches on unto mine eyes, the outward watch,
Whereto my finger, like a dial’s point,
Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears.
Now sir, the sound that tells what hour it is
Are clamorous groans, which strike upon my heart,
Which is the bell: so sighs and tears and groans
Show minutes, times, and hours:

By William Shakespeare

Spoken by Richard the Second, while imprisoned at Pomfret Castle

Full text at :  http://shakespeare.mit.edu/richardii/richardii.5.5.html

Poem published in Eternal Haunted Summer

I’m very happy to tell you that my poem ‘Love of the Gods’  has been published in  Eternal Haunted Summer Summer Solstice Issue 2019

The theme for this issue is  The Planets and Stars. Please head over and check out a great issue…..

https://eternalhauntedsummer.com/issues/summer-solstice-2019/love-of-the-gods/

 

My sons tower over me

My sons tower over me
making me feel like I have shrunk
the eldest shares stories  of University
some I’d rather not hear

Spontaneous hugs envelop  me
protective and loving
we smile over stories of their boyhood
adventures while walking to school
playing at Orcs  in the woods
chasing waves on a North Sea beach
then travelling home soaked through
that time in the fountain…

I  am grateful for the gifts of love and joy
that they bring me
many times unknowingly
am happy when the house
fills with the deep laughter of young men

Copyright © 2019 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Friday Poem: Sleep

When all, and birds, and creeping beasts,
When the dark of night is deep,
From the moving wonder of their lives
Commit themselves to sleep.

Without a thought, or fear, they shut
The narrow gates of sense;
Heedless and quiet, in slumber turn
Their strength to impotence.

The transient strangeness of the earth
Their spirits no more see:
Within a silent gloom withdrawn,
They slumber in secrecy.

Two worlds they have–a globe forgot,
Wheeling from dark to light;
And all the enchanted realm of dream
That burgeons out of night.

by  Walter de la Mare

Dreaming

Large green leaves lean lushly
against crater walls
palm trees and pines jostle for space

Flowery grasses spotted with inevitable hydrangeas
(blue invaders of our hearts)
line the dirt road  to the vent

At the carved curving stairs
our descent into a dreaming volcano
begins

Fumes fill noses and heads
Hades once writhed here
and scents it’s promise of return

Copyright © 2019 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Another poem inspired by a visit to Furna do Enxofre, an empty magma chamber on Graciosa island in the Azores. Empty of magma, not fumes….

…the painting is my own, and one of several of the vent….

Train

Rails clack and clatter
as we roll round the back of houses
(each garden accidentally revealing it’s owner)
drawing out into the un-urban

English green fields, scruffy stations
and level-crossings blur past
yet the horizon crawls

All personal sense of hurry lulled
a bubble of contemplation forms
distantly observing  passing scenery
my mind drifts to places past
and places future

Copyright © 2019 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Magma Cave

Shards of rock lie  silent
as ferns lean toward the sun
along the sides of the great vent
cut into a perfect dome above
sulphur from a tepid celadon lake
fills the air

Copyright © 2016 Kim Whysall-Hammond

From a visit to Furna do Enxofre, an empty magma chamber on Graciosa island in the Azores. Empty of magma, not fumes….

…the painting is my own, and one of several of the vent….