Tag Archives: volcano

There are never enough photos of Pico

There are never enough photos of Pico
Says he, as he takes yet one more
The light has changed again
And the mountain looks about to roar
We’ve flown over and around her
Driven along her lower slopes
But the best view is away from her
From little Horta’s shore

The mountain slumbers on
Fuji slopes gracefully curving down
She glows rose in the dawns light
By midday she can glower and frown
Clouds drape her and embrace her
Shadowing scree and walled-in grapevine
However far we travel away from her
Somehow that volcano is always mine

Copyright © 2015 Kim Whysall-Hammond

And so we end our Virtual Holiday in the Azores with a poem about my favourite volcano.  The first line is a quote from my  Cheeseseller, as the mountain changed once more and he took yet another photo!

I hope you enjoyed your trip. The photo below was taken  just after dawn, from our hotel balcony on the isaland of Faial, as we prepared to return to England.

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Lava Tunnel

In a simple field, no different from any other
Is a clump of small trees with a dark secret
Amongst their roots, we tiptoe down a rocky slope
Into blackness.
Torchlight reveals a dry tunnel, strange shelf on the walls
Chattering, we walk until daylight is extinguished by distance
We stop, simmer to quietude, and turn off the torches
Into silence
Liquid rock once ran where we now stand in black silence
The rock around us the scum that floated on that river
The apocalypse that created our tunnel has disappeared
Into history

Copyright © 2016 Kim Whysall-Hammond

 

More on our virtual Azores Holiday……This poem is set on Terceira, all the islands are volcanic and there is plenty to explore.

Terceira is also known as the party island. The locals certainly know how to have a good time.

 We will be in the Azores all week — a poem a day to fly you away……

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 in the Azores. Empty of magma, not fumes….

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

 

Day 4 of our virtual Azores Holiday………… We will be there all week — a poem a day to fly you away……

There are never enough photos of Pico

There are never enough photos of Pico
Says he, as he takes yet one more
The light has changed again
And the mountain looks about to roar
We’ve flown over and around her
Driven along her lower slopes
But the best view is away from her
From little Horta’s shore

The mountain slumbers on
Fuji slopes gracefully curving down
She glows rose in the dawns light
By midday she can glower and frown
Clouds drape her and embrace her
Shadowing scree and walled-in grapevine
However far we travel away from her
Somehow that volcano is always mine

Copyright © 2015 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Re-blogged from 2015, about my favourite mountain, Mount Pico in the Azores.

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….

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….

Dark heat

This clump of small trees conceals a secret,
steep rock scattered slope sliding into black
amongst long tangled roots.
A high tunnel, arching roof, sharp cutting surfaces,
rock drips hanging,
umbilical cord sinuously writhing down
into volcanic depths now empty
silent and still.
Liquid rock ran here once,
the rock around us the scum that floated
on a glowing river extruding into up above
reaching out with fiery devils fingers
grasping at fields and lives.

Night is a cavern, a tunnel to the depths,
it can be littered with fears
haunted by worries, swamped by unslept sleep.
This primordial dark, this barren silence
is filled by the hammering of our hearts.
An apocalypse that is long gone into history,
still we feel the presence of subterranean death
hear disaster echoing across time.

Copyright © 2018 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Published at Fourth and Sycamore in July 2018.

There are never enough photos of Pico

There are never enough photos of Pico
Says he, as he takes yet one more
The light has changed again
And the mountain looks about to roar
We’ve flown over and around her
Driven along her lower slopes
But the best view is away from her
From little Horta’s shore

The mountain slumbers on
Fuji slopes gracefully curving down
She glows rose in the dawns light
By midday she can glower and frown
Clouds drape her and embrace her
Shadowing scree and walled in grapevine
However far we travel away from her
Somehow that volcano is always mine

Copyright © 2015 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Re-blogged from 2015

Brief bloom

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

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https://apod.nasa.gov/apod/ap160510.html