Sunday, 19 April 2009

Go Bush

I don't like poetry, as a rule. However, lately I saw one in a magazine that captured my imagination. It was free from the bounds of rhyme and metre, but its words were so intense that they have remained with me and pop up at unexpected moments. So, in a kind of tribute to Takapuna Beach by David Eggleton, here is my attempt at un-verse.

abandon the stream of metal on wheels
escape the exhaust
go bush

cross over and descend into cool green dimness
the muted crunch of biodegradable carpet
releases rich brown scents at every step

the dulled whir and rumble of rubber on tar out beyond nature's bubble
a lone lawnmower drowned in the flow of a foot-wide terranean creek

manuka's spindly arms clatter
and wear snowy clusters of healing nectar
two stories from the forest floor

many-hued tui language
lovers conversing from tree to tree
in a flash of inky green wings they meet

immigrant radiata in ever-radiant Christmas garb
tower over natives that outnumber them a thousand to one

gregarious fantails tweet their sermons to next-of-kin sparrow followers
the winds caress the silver fern


Manuka Flowers


Radiata Pine


Silver Fern tree (Ponga)

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