Tag Archives: poetry

Seed Guardian

I joke that he is now a bean counter
as, indeed, he kneels to count his beans
small white capsules of DNA
strung up on life giving proteins

He needs to send a minimum of two hundred
to a seed bank upcountry, for these beans are rare
a variety that may die out soon if not cherished
grown, saved, stored

A variety that may feed us when times are hard
but only if we keep it, saving for a rainy day

Copyright © 2021 Kim Whysall-Hammond

For Tony, who is a Seed Guardian for the UK Heritage Seed Library. The crops we rely on for food need to be diverse so that diseases cannot totally wipe out our food supplies , but agrobusiness concentrates on only a few varieties.

For Earthweal

Homer and his ilk

The teachers pets sat at the front, had all her attention
the boys and I languished at the back
where three long bookshelves were stuffed full
with books not intended for a primary school
here poetry and myth seeped into my being
as I dodged paper airplanes

Here I met Achilles, Agamemnon, grew up in Sparta
saw the first marathon run
lived deep in primeval forests
loved slightly dippy Thor, discovered Loki
Kokopelli and Coyote
wanted a trickster god of my own

Copyright © 2021 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Wardrobes

Wardrobes of tailored jackets
packed tight with empty pockets
still scented with her perfume

Silver spoons and Indian brassware
tablecloths, hand embroidered
saved for a time that never came

Teapot, milk jug and sugar bowl
enwrapped with gaudy Chinese dragons
given to her by a friend

All her rings, except for
Dad’s engagement ring
which we buried her with

a huge box of jumbled photos
full of memories, undiscovered history
and her, lithe and young

Those eyebrows I see in the mirror
the laugh that is also mine
her legacy pulses within me

Copyright © 2021 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Ann Arbor Business Trip

So we came off the plane
and they met us with a car
took us hungry and tired
to a huge Sushi bar

Two girls they thought us
tried to phase us with raw fish
but we were Londoners
we could devour any dish

Next night they tried Rogan Josh
after a long day of negotiation
Grinning, we upped the chilli
scoffed it down without hesitation

Then there was the brewery where
they planned to drink us under the table
but we were women of the world
always ready and able

To match them beer for beer
and whiskey for whiskey
and then when they were plastered
one of the idiots tried to get frisky

We threw them out the door
turned up in the office next morning
clinched the deal at cost price
while they were hungover and yawning

Copyright © 2021 Kim Whysall-Hammond

My Marketing Manager & I went to Ann Arbor in the late 1990s to secure a software deal for a coalition of the worlds airlines. The American negotiators tried all sort of tricks to put us “girls” (as they kept calling us) on the back foot. But expecting to out curry or out drink Londoners is simply naive. :)

This poem is a true story — although I’ve missed out the Mexican Chilli house and the Greek restaurant. Did they really think Greek was strange foreign food to a Londoner????? We led the dancing and plate throwing that night!

I was inspired by an excellent poem over at Jims blog: High Plains Sushi

Otzi the Iceman

He wore warm boots and cloak
had many tattoos grouped
around wherever his joints hurt
to show where acupuncture should be done
carried a complex firelighting kit
containing many dried plants
with flint and pyrtite to make sparks

Consider his hide quiver of arrows with dogwood shafts
and an antler stub for sharpening arrow points
a rare copper axe with a yew handle
a stone bladed knife
various berries for snacks, and two sorts
of dried mushrooms strung with leather
one of them is antibiotic

When he died he was carrying an
unfinished yew Longbow taller than him
with a bowstring and the tools to complete it

Say Hello to our ancient brother

Copyright © 2021 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Heavy on the wing, the  albatross approaches the rock

She soars ridges and slopes in the air
sees its fluid shape in in her pale yellow eye
dances on winds, a long haul tourist

She needs the lift of the air to live
maybe she brings the wind with her
to this vertical face of dead mosses and nests

Now at the rock, she dances on once more
this time to a lover, long unseen
looks forward, after so many years on the wing

to the earthbound pleasures of children
and a future

Copyright © 2021 Kim Whysall-Hammond

My Cheese seller challenged me to write a poem with his title…….