This contains a scene which may disturb. When the only sounds were the tired turning, wind in the tree tops, a silent hand reached for the lights. On and off. And again. Heavy grey doors swung open and back. It stopped the nurses. They would turn – to see nothing. It was same each shift….
Month: January 2019
The Ends
After so many years of avoiding you away you are into the clouds disappearing eyes the soles of his feet are all that can be seen as the sun sets that final time not everything worked correctly but you stood that ground and now I can ask how many more will join that queue before…
New Editor in Chief…
Hello Poets I was deeply sorry to learn of Jason Page’s death. For those of you who do not know me, I started this poetry site many years ago, and asked Jason to help as editor. He went way beyond that, getting the wonderful new site design and keeping the members working on publishing and…
Farewell to the Editor
It is with much sadness that I write this. Jason James Paige passed away on Tuesday night. His funeral is at Waikumete Cemetery Chapel 2 tomorrow at 3.00pm. Regards Leanne Rattray RIP my dear friend xo
violate (plus grief) 2 poems
Violate you know how it feels – when i’m a child still & my mum’s gone & my dad. Let us figure. as you hammer concrete & the nail bends, we need drill, discipline. i’m torn & i can’t stand it when you slip my hand like magic Grief…
X
The bottom line. To which we all descend. Come, sign your life away. We are only small print anyway. (Some time before 12 May 1992)
under the shoe
under the shoe to Frank Le Baige moments i find myself sitting looking down at the floor feeling i’m on such a height staring down at something there recall it was you, brother, and your madness stamped with a diagnosis of ‘paranoid schizophrenia’ by a man with watery eyes i couldn’t tell apart from the…
About My Mother
When I was young my mother taught Out of the only books she bought, And from her soul, for she was old, When seen next to a child as I. I would go outside and play, After lessons, mum would stay In her big room and read a bit, While I would mark the trees…
crack
I see everything, now that I’m passed it, touch the ruff bark in the cool garden when there’s no-one to tell it but the owl, clouds ruffled by wind, & I’m far from desolate. I want this, exquisite lonesomeness. 2 I stood by the lake, knowing that it’s deeper than I’m tall….
Cortado Order, Saturday
Breakfast Burritto Waffles, banana and bacon OJ, Coke Zero Kids fish and chips Caesar salad with salmon Corn and haloumi fritter Fries, and I grab extra sauce Handle of Pilsner Apple juice, Sprite Anchovies too? Please. Of course.
Up The Boo Aye
The bush mechanic pushes declares he has no talent. He pushes a greasy hand through his hair. It is nothing, he says, to built an engine from fashioned parts; nothing to make seized parts whirr and sing. It is what he does when a wheel locks, an engine creates and eats its own filings. He…
Christmas
Sun screen, pine needles, chlorine. The best of a festive perfume. Mint on potatoes, basil on tomatoes. Christmas lillies filling the room. The rattling scatter of Lego. spilling out of its box. Kersplosh in the pool. Well practised bombs. Kids laughing. Dad snoring. Cork pops. The sweet crunch of sun-soft scorched almonds. A pungent Marlborough…