Watching

Pakeha and Maori face each other
Years before in time
Each preen their feathers
some stay aloof
on waves of brine
Echo their song- no dancing a sailors jig
We’ll sling them in the brig
or blast our muskets

‘Masters ‘sailed long ago from this southern shore
and again today we meet each other
some tattooed faces , all tired eyes and hair of grey
The wisdom of shared lives in days gone by,
pushed asunder

Rights                                                                Wrongs

we pay the price with every tide
Hard working people of New Zealand weave patterns
that could delight our eyes and warm our hearts
Looking for pathways of hope through the bog
and the mire of distrust  that drag us apart

Sometime we’ll carry one another on a wave of triumph
as on the rugby fields ,finding touch
and find the winning line, together!

From the chrysalis of stoneage to fluttering hearts

Sheltered in caves the knaves ran the gauntlet
of beasts and braved each morn to feed their young
Muscled mighty beings crushed enemy
and ravaged their queen
would we have seen
joy
tenderness
caressing in those days?
When did mans heart tug and beat him to submission to pure love?’Evidence suggests’ a mothers make up held it
who and how do they measure ?

the family unit- a thesis, discuss
music
art
science
love,
did it nurture the brain to grow in size?
do cells develop minds we recognize as attune to our ways?

the dance, symphony, compendium of life and players that walk this earth now are caught in a drama, each moment the picture that is painted may be ugly or beauteous like the stars
a millisecond in a cosmic mullion
souped now
picking berries here
or mutton
baking our myriad breads
the kaleidoscope sends the shards to tumble
do we rumble
or roll
to eternity

wound

wound

sleep has    wounds  
you  wake     under the darkness  
the sound    of a train  
broken    along the line  
comes  through    the wound  ‡           ‡ ‡

a bird
picking   at  a star
sydney 1999

Commune

I moved my lips to the letters

you formed as you thought

of me. I thought of your

 

nails on the keys, the quick-

tap syntax, word

carnate on the screen;

 

and I heard your feet

tread the six hard steps

down to me;  the keys

 

in your hand.

 

21/09/15

Forgive me for loving you.

Forgive me for loving you…

Love is a coin spinning thru the air
Heads or Tails my friends?
Love or Fear? Both?
The other side of Love is fear.
Love is simply the absence of fear.

This why relationships end –
fear takes over and then
their petty cousins gate crash
resentment, guilt, animosity etc
come into-out to play.

Yet we always emerge Ok –
if we can let go of those nasty
resentment and fear critters.
Then we can emerge –
more strong, more competent

and hopefully somewhat wiser….

Hill Of Dreams

This hill is a dream space.

Its roll is gentle and comforting, and

it is barely a hill at all, a hummock

curving from the flat.

I look at it and sometimes expect it to move; to unfold,

to dip and rise as a wave, an undulating blanket

shaken out across the land.

Only its shadows move, marching across its tan and green,

moving away, each with a story of a tree, an angle,

the flavour of the day.

The rise is studded with trees – sentries – and its curves change with the light, one moment a pillow,  then a bossomy rise,

lifting and falling: it is Nature at play, a swell, a moment.

Watch me. Watch me.

I am yours

 

Child’s Play

The children play in the sun and the old man watches

 

His soft face fills with a smile: he is  child again, running and splashing

 

He brushes down his check shirt and leans forward to talk, his voice light and learned

 

He talks of his life – the war years and farming and how he had been unwell

 

And the sun shone and the children played and the old man said his wish was to be well

 

Then he leaned back and smiled and he was serene

 

I’m resigned to what might happen, he said. I’m comfortable

 

There it was; a lifetime’s wisdom in a sentence spoken so quietly it was nearly overtaken by a child’s laughter

Maternity

catch feelings fuse my mind in wonder
spirit guide unwraps my heart
pick a path to follow
stars line the start

here a maiden in a coffin
there a monk sealed in his stone
myths and monsters
tomb and tome

Lady shining in the theatre
seals my hope
and joy reveals

all matter working to save us
mother works her menu
seals

my dreams

DSCF2288

Global Tale

Natures blood, pahutakawa drips its veins

rose petals dift away

as beauty carpets pathways

the being of this earth that groans

its skelton of mountains so strong and proud

when all mankinds dealings revolt

earth brain spits entrails,

burning fires spread fear

listen to the cries of hope

Sun transends the mire

seeks to warm our day

and light a path

mercy will divine it true

 

Earth ,

trembling to live in galaxies that boil and melt to twinkle in the sky

pays homage to the moon

the tide, time ,temprament of man,twisting its being

till fading phenomes clutch at truth

and youth demands a sea change

progress to peace

leave alliance to power or creedDSCF4088

just believe

that the spring gold  daffodils and Solomons seal

will cheer us again like the lymph

-infection control against greed

 

 

 

 

 

 

a glass of christmas

a glass of christmas
for Wanda

there’s been
good ones
these years
for sure
but years apart
it seems you can’t
pull it off at will
the ‘choice’ christmas
like a good wine
a good bitter
cannot be rolled
out to order
those
in older
younger times
who put
the tinsel on it
of voice
of laughter
wrapped it in
warmth and
brightness for you
are gone under
that tree into
that snow that
comes of time
like dust in
the wine
yet
we do with
what we have
wrap it now
for others in
stiffened brightness
the warmth we
summon from
a glass of
christmas
wrap it for
the young,
the wife, the
uncle, the oldies
we turn into,
drink it down
bitterly sweet
such a glass of
christmas

26 december 2013
nelson st, howick

Onward each one we pass, evolve under the glass

So broken winged angel

I flounder at your side

Fix my feathered limb

to soar again in pride

Take you on your path

Instead of soar to heights of fancy

tend your fragile heart

encased as you wrestle with your rancid

thoughts that hope has no meaning

Spirit flames and smoulders

as on your lap I’m leaning

Lift you, cradle your arms around me

together we’ll tread the pilgrims path

warm in the knowledge

that all is good

define the time

of succour

peace will unfold

soon

To the Sea in Ships

10

They that go down to the Sea in ships

to the sweet and scented sea… the glistening ocean

blown vessels that sailed

with rope and canvas

upon her shining surfaces

 

Ancestors – you who went down to the sea in ships

where did you go?

what shores did you step upon

which sands…which shells so different

to the whelks of home did you marvel at

Collect and place upon your window sill

in some small village houses

reminders of memories you strove to share

in sketches made by swaying lamplight

to the creak of timbers.

 

They that go down to the sea in ships

have seen the dipping albatross… the petrels

St Peter’s bird who walks on waters of the deep

foam-strewn ocean

and then ascends…

these creatures of legend and mythology

sketched…a fleeting charcoal impression lost

in time yellowed paper

crumbling into eternity.

 

They that go down to the sea in ships

tread watchfully between  mangroves

clustered either side the glistening shoals

of shingle on some strange shore

through stillness broken by

an updraft of breeze shuffling the grasses

whispering between the stems

teasing the mangrove branches

dimpling the ponds between the shingle banks

 

They that go down to the sea in ships

may pause and breathe

the vastness of the ocean

half listening to the pad of seagulls’ feet

in silky warm pools

of the creeping inward tide…

Then walk the rippling ridges

to a waiting vessel.

 

(‘They that go down to the Sea in Ships’, Psalm 107, The Holy Bible.)