Brief — The Cheesesellers Wife

Something is dead in the hedgerowthere is a sharp sweet pungent smellso much bigger than the tiny corpse that birthed ita little dormouse whose soft noseonce twitched in sleepis now laid out, opened outa feast for the myriad creatures of decay Copyright © 2021 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Brief — The Cheesesellers Wife

Something is dead in the hedgerow
there is a sharp sweet pungent smell
so much bigger than the tiny corpse that birthed it
a little dormouse whose soft nose
once twitched in sleep
is now laid out, opened out
a feast for the myriad creatures of decay

Copyright © 2021 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Pears, a limerick — The Cheesesellers Wife

Someone is eating my pears

He sits on the branches and stares

He’s a very pretty pidgeon

Who should take only a smidgeon

But takes as much as he dares

Copyright © 2021 Kim Whysall-Hammond

A Quick limerick for you today. Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible. Hubby and I are feeling rather poorly at present.

Pears, a limerick — The Cheesesellers Wife

My Poem ‘Wayland’ now in Ink Drinkers Magazine — The Cheesesellers Wife

I’m very happy to announce that my poem, Wayland, is now published in the fourth issue of Ink Drinkers Magazine. The magazine was born in June 2020, when the editor found out that the term ‘ink drinker’ is the French version of ‘bookworm’ and thought ‘hey that could be a good name for a litmag’. […]

My Poem ‘Wayland’ now in Ink Drinkers Magazine — The Cheesesellers Wife

They looked and turned away — The Cheesesellers Wife

They looked and turned away

They looked and turned away — The Cheesesellers Wife

They looked and turned away
Londoners afraid to interact
With the girl sitting, weeping
On a stinkingly hot day in the city
Exclaiming that she had gone blind
Oversized suitcase abandoned near her feet
My feet
Someone pushed a cold drink into my hand
A woman’s voice comforted me
A stranger joined me on the step, asked where I was going
Told me that a long hot walk carrying a load
Had affected my sight
Sat until, miraculously, my sight returned
Then left
Pulling myself to my feet
I retrieved the offending suitcase
Slowly made my way to the Tube station
Continued my journey, moving from London to Oxford
Changing university, leaving friends and home city
Aiming for a Doctorate, I should have noted the omen
For I found loneliness and failure

Copyright © 2016 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Fist published by Silver Borch Press:

https://silverbirchpress.wordpress.com/2016/09/26/they-looked-and-turned-away-poem-by-kim-whysall-hammond-when-i-moved-poetry-and-prose-series/

Maybe it’s because I’m a Londoner……I love London…. — The Cheesesellers Wife

This isn’t poetry, just me being indulgent on a Sunday night….….again…. I was born in London, went to university in London and still love my home town, even though I will never live there again. The video for this song shows several of my old haunts….and I so want to go to a gig at […]

Maybe it’s because I’m a Londoner……I love London…. — The Cheesesellers Wife

Old — The Cheesesellers Wife

When you are old you

don’t understandthe plot of any Avengers film

but do understand

personal comfort is important

hence the clothes you are wearing

Gladly point out that nobody

really knows what a blockchain is

start to ask things like

“Who needs that many tattoos?”

find you are saving everything

and wasting nothing

particularly stale leftovers

expect to have at least one ache or pain […]

Old — The Cheesesellers Wife

Dancing with shadows — The Cheesesellers Wife

Any attempt to pin down

this exact moment,

that exact image exactly what I feel and need to say

needs words that are not born yet,

metaphors for minds not yet formed,

such is exactitude.

Yet that is what poets attempt to do.

We stand at the edge of the crowd,

listening to the music

hearing the echoes of other times and places,

and ask a shadow to dance.

Dancing with shadows — The Cheesesellers Wife

The Teenage Years — The Cheesesellers Wife

All bets are off in the teenage years

You still share your child’s hopes and fears

But they are a child no more –Can you hear that slammed door?

It’s a bumpy ride–Sometimes Jekyll, sometimes Hyde

You love them to bits, you can’t stand them anymore

And there again is that slamming door

You glimpse a young woman, you glimpse a […]

The Teenage Years — The Cheesesellers Wife

Friday poem: London Rain — The Cheesesellers Wife

London Rain

The rain of London pimples

The ebony street with white

And the neon lamps of London

Stain the canals of night

And the park becomes a jungle

In the alchemy of night.

My wishes turn to violent

Horses black as coal–

The randy mares of fancy,

The stallions of the soul–

Eager to take the fences

That fence about my soul.

Across the […]

Friday poem: London Rain — The Cheesesellers Wife