As a stranger

In this still dark morning hour
before the day has yet begun
by water still and icy cold
with absence of a warming sun
All is quiet so with tippy toe
by the canal I slowly tread
as signs of life on longboats close
dimly light the path I’ve led

Too Anything

She said it was too hot,
too slow,
too fat,
too skinny,
too long,
too short,
too near,
too far,
too messy,
too loose,
too tight,
too much,
too little,
too soon,
too late.

We were too drunk. Too stoned. Then, in the afternoon,
too sober.

But it was not, and never would be, too anything.
Except, maybe, too unkind.

School of the Electric Fence

Photo by Richard Calmes

I suppose I knew this,
once upon a time,
but love is a little like
the electric fence I used to
crawl through to get to the woods.

You have to be cautious, not timid.

(I wouldn’t go so far as to agree with
Crosby when he said being with Joni was
like falling into a cement mixer.)

Of pizzas and pubs

And so it is to Bradford
on another winter night
I find myself at Noble Comb
with time to sit and write
It’s fairly packed this evening
with families eating out
and workers sharing pints of beer
their voices raised to shout

LETTING GO

By Nichole Sulpizio And Charles Robert Lindholm

She Heard The Door
Firmly Shut Behind Her
Then Slowly Turned Around
To Take A Final Look
As The Whisper From Her Heart
Said,

“Sometimes
There Is No Going Back”

Fleeting glimpses of wonder

There’s something to be said
when travelling to Southend
of the sunset on the water
on the estuary of the Thames

Catching glimpses like this
of the things around I’ve seen
reminds me of the beauty
in the places I have been

Promises at Dawn

And in the early morning, I wait
Tendrils of light sweetly coax promises
from darkened skies

I watch shadows transform
Glittering dust dances in the corners of my mind
I am humbled by possibilities

Grief Journey

 

Loss and pains.
though just part of living…
set us apart,
others didn’t understand.
But we knew. We just knew. 

We wrapped ourselves 
in each other’s griefs,
grateful to need no explanations,, 
understanding without words;
afraid of more losses
(can I go through that again?) 
resisting pain, 
change and the unknown.

Yesterdays

I gathered all my memories
lest they faded to the past
No melancholy there
but I wanted them to last
For collectively they’ve shaped me
into what I am today
Precious to hold onto
as my tomorrow’s seize the day

As a seagull again

7 of 7 in the Jemverse series ‘Shoreham again’

As a seagull I flew inland from the sea
Up in a yellow-tinged sky
Looking down with the freedom I commanded in flight
as I swooped and I soared up on high

I watched as the river meandered below
Through the town I am proud to call home
with its cluster of houses gathered close to the sea
over routes I have so often flown

Caterpillar dawn

Caterpillar dawn
creeps across the ocean

This river again

6 of 7 in the Jemverse series ‘Shoreham again’

In this river’s silted tributaries
Navigation now
Reserved for smallish river craft
Low of beam and bow
And yet, two hundred years ago
Galleons here were made
Crafted beams at Bramber
Where many keels were laid
Such changing times of commerce
The Adur’s here provided
For this fishing port of Shoreham
Which by the sea has long resided

Relativity of Life

bright in gold in jars of silence

who hides in wings of time
ever open in bars of distance
to that omnipresent
relativity of life

Seven Sisters

Sweet sisters Pleiades
Peer out from their nursery nebula
New baby stars
Half the age of the chalk hills
I live upon

Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond

https://thecheesesellerswife.wordpress.com/2020/01/18/seven-sisters/

Shoreham Airport again

5 of 7 in the Jemverse series ‘Shoreham again’

Shoreham Airport’s terminal building
The oldest in the land
Is getting a new makeover
To make it fresh and grand

It’s 1930’s facade fell into
a terrible state
With peeling paint and cracks in walls
But soon it will look great

Bye bye Blackbird

Last spring the laurel hedge by my window was empty
No chirruping, calling, no rustling of glossy leaves
No fledglings edging off the nest onto twigs and then the adjacent fence
No wobbling and frantic flapping as parents patiently cajole
No triumphant flights to the Rose bushes
Only to tumble to the grass
As the chosen twig was too thin

Walking contented again

4 of 7 in the Jemverse series ‘Shoreham again’

These cobbled lanes, a thousand years
Where countless souls have trod
This hallowed ground where now I walk
On sparkling dew-clad sod

This sleepy town, its flinted walls
Where fisherfolk resided
And the comfort that the parish church
Reliably provided

Too hot, too hot

Like tracks in the snow
Little lives go
In our melting

Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond

https://thecheesesellerswife.wordpress.com/

St Mary de Haura again

3 of 7 in the Jemverse series ‘Shoreham again’

The river Adur’s changing course
To its tidal estuary
Bereft now of its shipping past
As it meets the changing sea

The oyster beds lie barren now
Their commerce lost to time
But St Mary’s bells in beacon tower
Still regularly chime

How do we still fall in love?

Fool’s love is all that they say
they abhor the pain and still want to stay
Can’t change the way we are so willing
the way it morphs and shines
like broken glass in a roll of hay

Glowing again

2 of 7 in the Jemverse series ‘Shoreham again’

Ethereal glow hangs over Shoreham
Through the mist, ‘neath yellow skies
With the promise of September warmth
The sleeping town in silence lies

‘Neath the bridge the river water
Meanders slowly to the sea
Boats lopsided in the shallows
Oyster Catchers in their lee

Shoreham by the sea again

1 of 7 in the Jemverse series ‘Shoreham again’

I have a beach of shingle mixed
With golden sea-washed sand
Its grandeur and its mystery
Forged by God’s own hand
I have a river winding through
The valley from the sea
Its tidal water carrying
Swans and seabirds oft to me

The sunshine promise

I lived a little broken
like an old grey bag of bones
and despite the life around me
felt a long, long way from home
Abandoned to no purpose
each day was like the rest
and although the sun gave promise
it felt like second best

-28.12.19_16:25-

The doorway in,
Staring back,

Lost to time passing

In a small corner I curl
turning pages, I am lost to imagination
oblivious to time passing
minutes meld to hours
And this time is mine
Absorbing words from far away minds
Caught in that beautiful moment
when words caress my soul
with a comfort wholly realised

The voice of the sea

Calling out to me, the voice of the sea
my friend through all of these years
A solace and comfort, understanding and wise
conquering all of my fears

Dalit IV (reverence)

Yes, this eloquence is precious
not for squandering or for waste
Revered as a diamond
with immeasurable value

Dalit III (precious)

Though fleeting with some beauty
precious is this captured moment
My soliloquy for the day
to seize and hold onto and keep