The sky is empty
Pale winter blue
A single bar of cloud
Hovers over the western horizon
And as I drive
The sun dips behind it
The edges of the cloud glow silver
The strong beauty almost takes me off the road
Copyright © 2015 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Re-blogged from 2015 — but this happpened to me again the other day!
Deep in a volcanic sea cave
crimson crabs hang from the ceiling
scuttle along walls, clattering pincers
gather in their hundreds
in affront
as our boat noses in,
engine stilled.
We have raced across open ocean
slamming over waves
to be claustrophobically enclosed
looked down upon by crustaceans
never before have I felt
such an visitor to my own planet
insignificant in the face of the whale and the dolphin
and now these outraged crabs.
Copyright © 2018 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Dusk wallows in the hill folds
waiting to be let loose,
shadows settle between trees
as birds settle on the branches.
Westwards, the sky is marmalade.
Laced with lemon rays,
horizon hugging clouds obscure
the main event.
Copyright © 2018 Kim Whysall-Hammond
The sky is empty
pale winter blue
a single bar of cloud
hovers over the western horizon
and, as I drive
the sun dips behind it
the edges of the cloud glow silver.
The strong beauty almost takes me off the road
Copyright © 2016 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Re-blogged from 2016…..
We are a brief bloom
On the fragile skin
Of a molten body
Encircling a massive furnace
We are a blossoming of sentience
With encrusted technologies
Craving wonder, hoping for company
Seeking knowledge and excitement
We truly are stardust
Our bodies built from atoms
Forged in successive stellar explosions
We crave the glories of the Universe
We are Human
Copyright © 2016 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Re-blogged from last year
I do like poems with an Astronomical bent, and here’s a wonderful one from Paul F. Lenzi:
“Solar Flare” by Dan Oliver
particle storms
shriek at inhuman
inaudible frequency
penetrate matter
lase holes through
the bones of minds
living and dead
mark acutely
the genomes of
all cosmic creatures
yet to be born
with the warning
that even the sun
is disposed to
explosions of rage
From my books Pieces of Wine and Legacies (vol.2)
I would like to share this wonderful poem by Louis Faber with you:
Tomorrow the morning
will arrive as it always does,
eating the last vestiges
of night, painting the sky
in puce and crimson.
It will foretell the rain
that will carry our dreams
down the hill
and into storm sewers,
eventually to wash into the lake.
But in that moment
when the sky is ablaze,
none of that matters,
save the beauty of dawn.
Mist wreathes slender canals
chased away by an October sun
which silhouettes a heron
against the now bright water.
Across a concrete slab bridge
russet leaved vines glow.
We walk past white spattered cows
tan sheep
and a mud encrusted tractor.
Copyright © 2017 Kim Whysall-Hammond
The big oaks at the corner
stretch their leaves to gather the evening sun.
A breeze lifts and turns them,
dark, bright, bright, dark.
Giving a green glitter effect
that entrances me
starting the long stretching walk along the lane.
As I walk, the sun lights overhead leaves,
creates broderie anglais shadows
where cars slowly trail only feet apart.
Above a lacy sheet of alto cumulus spreads
pierced by the setting suns laser rays
up to the stratosphere.
I pause to enjoy, then
move on past the McDonalds drive in.
Cars queue for their Friday night treat
around the roundabout and beyond.
Full of the bored and restless.
And I retrace my steps
on the sunlit stretching walk
back towards home.
Copyright © 2017 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Lording over the moors and valleys, visible out to sea
Bold Dunkery, crowned with cairns ancient and modern
Your summit cairn is in summer twilight crowned by larking lads
Come to watch the sunset, yet cheated by horizon hugging cloud
They revel in unexpected solitude at a well trodden spot
Copyright © 2017 Kim Whysall-Hammond
It was lovely up at Dunkery Beacon in the twilight.
