Tag Archives: speculative poetry

Science and Science Fiction poetry: She came to see me

She came to see me
resplendent in red
glittering with dust
her elegant bone structure evident more than ever
desiccated and dead
spacesuit blown
floating past the view screen
when I know we retrieved her from orbit yesterday

Copyright © 2017 Kim Whysall-Hammond

“She came to see me” was first published in the Science Fiction and Fantasy Poetry Associations print journal Star*Line 40.4:

  http://www.sfpoetry.com/sl/issues/starline40.4.html

Today is Science and SF Monday — A poem each week which either has a science theme or is Science Fiction…..

Friday Poem: Kracken

Below the thunders of the upper deep;
Far, far beneath in the abysmal sea,
His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep
The Kraken sleepeth: faintest sunlights flee
About his shadowy sides: above him swell
Huge sponges of millennial growth and height;
And far away into the sickly light,
From many a wondrous grot and secret cell
Unnumbered and enormous polypi
Winnow with giant arms the slumbering green.
There hath he lain for ages and will lie
Battening upon huge sea-worms in his sleep,
Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;
Then once by man and angels to be seen,
In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die.

by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Summer Queen

She makes grass into golden wheat
adorned in a stiff gold collarcape
walking, stroking,tending, sleeping with the crop
her brethren and children both
Her folk unforgiving of failure
poor cropping is catastrophe, starvation
Queens become then offerings
death awaits down that path

This summer is cold and wet
Wind flattened swollen heads remain green as harvest nears
she spends chill sodden desperate nights deep
in the fields, pleading the damp away
long days on the high hills
beseeching the sun for warmth to no avail
throat slitting awaits

The crop rustles, a manikin appears, barely wheat-high
Declares that he can help
can transmute wet straw to golden corn
at a price

She offers him her glistening arm-restricting collarcape
and the pleasures of her flesh
but he wants what she is loath to tender
any future child

She is doubly afraid, for herself
and for any child so forfeited
but dread convinces
of seeing her fathers eyes
as she is sacrificed
throat slit, body desecrated

So an agreement is made
and an unknowing village delights in late summer heat
glad harvesters sing of their queen
Autumnal marriage brings further abundance
made manifest in a swelling belly

Come a new spring, early skylarks soar
woodland paths are girded by fragrant blue
blossom bodes new abundance
yet the Queen is strangely reluctant to venture forth
to succour her new tilled fields
to leave her infant boy
with a village to raise him joyfully
this seems curious, inexplicable
yet she walks the encircling ramparts
staring out
waiting

He comes one night to her sleeping place
stares avidly at the child clasped close
she, however, has been considering
pondering the significance
of bargains well made
of names that control and command
of gifts freely given and so power won

What is the child that he so wants him,
what may he become?
What power will this child convey?

And she bargains once more
knowing that faery folk love so to do
and can be held to new deals made
the hobgoblin is silent impassive
until asked his own name
angry and proud he knows she can’t guess it
so the inbuilt weakness takes hold
“Tell me my name and you keep the child”
and he is gone

Long nights does she try
to divine the unknowable
the language of sprites and gods
is the language of the world around
shared with trees and rivers
rustling, thumping, creaking
a nonsense to human ears

Then the King tells her a story
whilst taking leave of his woodlands
his ice bearing hills
he spied on a little man dancing on mosses
singing a song of an ignorant woman
who will lose a child
to Rompanruoja the hobgoblin

So the father saves his son
from an uncanny fostering
for the Summer Queen she laughs
and at their next meeting
tells the old fellow his name
in pique and anger he leaves
not to be seen again

Here our tale ends with customary joy
The destiny of our Queen, her lovely boy
We cannot know
Lost in another story long ago

Copyright © 2021 Kim Whysall-Hammond

This poem was first published by Milk and Cake Press in  the  anthology  ‘Dead of Winter’, February 2021, available here.

Lilbourne

The dead linger in some places.
At old Lilbourne they gather in hill folds
saunter through the churchyard
wander down paths behind cottages.

Their chatter settles in my ear
wriggles into my mind unsettlingly
until I find myself talking
to a dead shepherd.

Up at the Giants Grave,
misnamed ancient tomb
on chalk escarpment edge,
the dead are different.

Amongst lean faced hide-clad mourners,
Clutching stone tools, flint tipped arrows,
others lumber whitely, ungainly in bulky suits,
helmeted and dumb.

A wiry dog snuffles at my feet
petted by a curly haired woman
with a wide American smile.
A man unscrews his lid, chatters in Russian.

As one, old and new, they all look up
excited, wondering,
exchanging gestures
as the ISS streaks overhead.

Copyright © 2021 Kim Whysall-Hammond

‘Lilbourne’ was published by Milk and Cake Press in  the  anthology  ‘Dead of Winter’, February 2021, available here.

The Colours of the Night

Not blackpurple or midnight blue
but rose from Betelgeuse
and the diamndsharp blue of Sirius

Ruby taillights on the move
those bright green leaves
lit up by streetlights, headlights

Nights colours are many and varied
as are those of its special creatures
now behind you, ready to feed

Copyright © 2022 Kim Whysall-Hammond

“Carve it in Doves and Pomegranates” published today in Utopia Science Fiction Magazine

I am delighted to announce that my poem “Carve it in Doves and Pomegranates” has been published in Utopia Science Fiction Magazine’s February/March Issue (2022).

You can find a copy available here.

50% of sales from this issue will be donated to the UNHCR (United Nations Refugee Agency). A United Nations charity which collects funds to provide humanitarian aid to families displaced by conflicts around the world, including Ukraine