Summer is a girlwho revels in a hot glareover here and over thereshe loves to spin and twirlsummer is a girl She collects her flowers fairthrows them to who knows wherethey scatter, some still unfurledsummer is a girl Remember her fires and bewareshe plays with you and doesn’t careher heat is autumns seed-pearlSummer is a ..read more

Summer nap, after a nectarine snackI toss and turn front to backRise to greet the days slack Copyright © 2024 Kim Whysall-Hammond I’m experimenting with form, and trying out Tanka Tuesday again today!The form I’ve chosen is a Kimo. This is a tristich, a poem of three lines with 10/7/6 syllables. The theme is the Japanese ..read more

Soft air, pregnant with raindropssneaks into days and nightssteals our tremulous summersilently summons autumn Mist muddles morningsmurks evening partiesmuddles the seasonsmugs us of sunshine Weary of incessant downpourswanting a chance of blue skieswe must begin to live withweather that we want to go away Copyright © 2024 Kim Whysall-Hammond This poem was written for Rebeccas ..read more

Hours grow roundly fattheir shells hardenlaterif there is a laterthis is uncertainthese shells will crackhiggledepiggledyscatter fractions of secondsinto fetid air Copyright © 2024 Kim Whysall-Hammond ..read more

When you’ve been writing poetry for a while, you might start to think about putting together your first book. In the UK, poetry books are often classed in two ways: pamphlets and collections. Pamphlets are shorter than collections. But how do you start? In the USA, pamphlets are called Chapbooks. Two countries divided by one ..read more

There is no simplification or nip within herall is buttonhole, crowded sparrowsbrown, grimy, grim Copyright © 2024 Kim Whysall-Hammond ..read more

Clinking flint on flintThey sat, cross leggedSculpting the desired formFrom the larger rockBefore going on the hunt.Children clambered in cramped tunnelsHewing the flints from the solid chalkIn the lonely darkTo allow these few to craft killing toolsAnd to eat. Clicking screen to screenWe sit, hunchedSifting the information streamShaping the dataTo draw our salaries.Children spend their ..read more

TWENTY bridges from Tower to Kew –Wanted to know what the River knew,Twenty Bridges or twenty-two,For they were young, and the Thames was oldAnd this is the tale that River told:- “I walk my beat before London Town,Five hours up and seven down.Up I go till I end my runAt Tide-end-town, which is Teddington.Down I ..read more

We walk in winterbare sunbright woodsa winding path that skirts fallen treessprawling bramble thicketsand forms its own linear pondswhere frogs protest our passage I hear a clinkinghigh pitched, sharp, intermittentand somewhere behind Nothing in our gear is metallic and looseI hear the noise, but he doesn’twhen I stop to listen, he is confusedstumbles into meour ..read more

Incoming tide sloshes through tidal poolsdribs and drabs of bright seaweedlift and float away waves foamstir and wake warm waterstumble shells and seaworn pebbles A crab skitters this way and thatcontent with her havennot wanting to drift away Copyright © 2024 Kim Whysall-Hammond It’s Quadrille Monday again at the dVerse Poets Pub; time to create ..read more