another song for the sea

sand, seaweed, soccer
gulls dozing on black volcanic rocks
A complete rainbow spans the sky
bright glow of seven colours
reflected in the wet beach gleam
small children in gumboots
and cosy hoodies
run circles around their parents
Sun reaches through the clouds to my page
the wind is bitter cold
but stellar radiation cheers this winter day.
Shortly I will leave this rich green of grass
this simple pine bench
this calm ocean murmur.
food to buy, business to do
money to make and spend
but before that comes this island of quiet
this orchestra of nature and humanity
The road rescue man,
come to jumpstart a stranded vehicle,
chatting about rural economics
The families dodging stray raindrops
The surfers looking in vain for a wave.
the islands are still brown from summer’s drought
but now the rains have come
and life will follow after.

On Parking

rainy day, rainbow haze
parked at the jetty.
green waves breaking
on shelly beach and concrete walls.
clarity of the hills beyond the channel
shifts to falling water
Others park here, sitting, watching.
cars as offices, their windows fogged
Proud seagulls preen atop lampposts
outrigger canoes slice water
while slanting rain
wraps islands in mystery
Day’s end glows
and behind, in the west
blue skies beckon
then the moment is gone
dimness falls
I will need headlights to get home again
but first I will sit here a while longer
absorbing the ocean
its last reflections of sungleam
in the clearing sky
as rainstorms move out across the gulf
clouds dragging thick straight tendrils
that rush to the waves
and the seabirds wheeling above
who catch the light that remains

Auckland in the rain

This was written a few weeks back. It's been drier lately!

amphibious nature

winter has struck

water has invaded

city streets deluged

gutters are rivers

shiny leaves float

on sidewalk brick

yellows and reds

gleam of day

puddles at corners

wind-wrecked umbrellas

like broken wings

of skin-soaked creatures

awnings leak cascades

open crossroads beckon

with square waterfalls

from murky clouds

get thee home

says raspy throat

my feet obey

through urban canyons

hallelujah! a bus

no granted fact

haul me homeward

through stubborn downpour

rain gives way

to lightened sky

return to dry

sated earth sings

Random Wednesday Poetry

coming of the night

the evening shade slips across the gentle hills

the higglety-pigglety houses, the treetops

the skyscrapers

the volcanos

each place the sun rests its final kiss

is set aglow in golden tones

before the darkness creeps in

and the sea takes on its night hue

russet shining grasslands

on the islands

deepening texture of the forest

now touched by the fingers of the dusk

eastern clouds reflect the sunset glory

wisps of pink in an apricot sky

wink! the sun reflects from an apartment block window

before the shadow consumes the thirtieth floor

lights blink on across the city

the sky is still red and grey

matching the oak tree’s leaves and bark

as day surrenders to blissful rest

and inside, the lamps go on

work goes on as soft rain appears

the cat’s whiskers twitch in her tight curled sleep

and home is a wonderful place to be.

two poems

party animal

I walk these streets by day when I have to hug the shade to stay cool
I walk these streets in the evening when the little owls call in the valley.
I am walking to another party tonight
barely recovered from last night's insanity
someone is turning twenty, yes I feel old
I pass three other parties between Archers Road and Chivalry. Someone calls hi to me from a yard crackling with barbecued sausages and I greet them back. It's Saturday after all.
But at these parties you'll find me not amidst the noisy crowd
I'm the one outside with my boots in the soft earth and wet grass
trying to capture the moon in my camera



no stuff thanks

I don't believe in birthday cards
nor Christmas gifts and such.
Don't be perplexed, don't be dismayed
I've always thought as much.
I do not mean you disrespect,
nor do I mean you harm
The customs that I thus reject
Don't keep a friendship warm.
Who wants rooms full of well-thought things
And stacks of trinket love?
I only wish they could sprout wings
and disappear above.
The odd thing to expect from me
In spite of what I've said
Is that I might give a random gift
At other times instead.
Why wait until a special day?
Please let's not have a row.
For if I have a thought for you
The time to give is now.

southern hemisphere winter

bright wet skies
roads of shimmering silver
dripping trees turned to glittering emerald
twin tracks in concrete speak of plastic toys
that passed this way a quarter century ago at least.

strong winter sun reflects from every surface
the cold south wind turns the evergreens to thrashing thunder above the humble street
seagulls squealing, wheeling, dazzling white
against dark angry clouds
the world, aglow between the rainstorms
mandarins weigh down laden branches
they have no seasons here.
wooden windows rattle in merry gusts
breaths of smoke snatched from chimneys tell of cozy afternoons within.
mud fills the alley behind my house
I wish good health to the couple who scratched their names in wet concrete at the corner, back in the dark mists of suburban history
the cat I met on the beach reminds me of another I once knew better than myself.

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


Manuka Flowers


Tui


Radiata Pine


Fantail


Silver Fern tree (Ponga)