Travellers Whom We Met

Another fork away ahead Exactly like the one behind And twists and turns to leave you dead As choices in your mind. We’ve travelled here before you know And had this conversation yet We

Possums came at night

You could see the signs which said that possums came at night And fed upon this tree, they left their mark in fruit discards And broken twigs and shredded leaves spread randomly In careless

Consciousness Of Our Return

Night’s grating of steel on stone and splash Of water crashing from the buckets Brings back that moment in a flash; The night burnt bright in limb’s caress And flesh yielding flesh in passions

To Henrietta Lyn

We’re going to miss you little girl, you leave an aching space Way out of all proportion to your size. Tomorrow we must face the day Without your lavish greeting – without your urgent

A catchy phrase

It was called Farm Fantastic, a catchy phrase, And potentially a day’s wasted sweat. Even after the event I can’t say it wasn’t, And I’m kind of glad we went, for better Or worse,

Dead man's clothes

Growing up, I propose, Is like wearing a dead man’s clothes. Death has a way of levelling the ground. I have found the closer your relationship The closer the fit; The unsettling bit is

Having each of you as friends

For more than 40 years we’ve been good friends, Since 1963 in fact, from college where we met (and managed there to build a strong quartet Of campus friendship which kept those years intact,

Pumpkins in our time

For months on end the pumpkins lay at peace, Their parent vines had all but browned and died Although a stubborn tendril here and there had Tried to grow again – glyphosate soon ended

Admire their style

I’m reading fellow poets’ blogs today, A sustaining source of entertainment; I admire their style without exciting comment Or resorting to an unkind eye, simple though It is to sigh about uneasy affirmation. I

It seldom snowed, they said – Part I

It seldom snowed, they said, it might get cold but it won’t be snow; Well, one should guess the locals know the weather best and I was new, So when I left the warmth

And The Piper Dreams

And the Piper dreams as he pipes up in his mind Colours in choral horizons distant, of courtliness dimmed in time, At the puddling waters edge he stands spread square and neat And blows

I Mark Your Courage

I had no profound feelings of shock or surprise To those matter-of-fact revelations Which spelled the end of this chapter of your life. It was, as you put it, too late for recriminations, And

Thinking of an Afterlife

When was the beginning, In the fertilising, in the flower, Or was it deeper, In the earth beneath? No end of wonderment Shall cease such a quest, Or know how it is unknowable. We

I cannot let the moment pass

I cannot let the moment pass without a weary greeting, Or retard the recent past where shadows still are fleeting, I’d sabotage the future by just staring in a mirror And never let the

Hostel Beach, Oneroa

The cliff sprang from the sea at end of Hostel Beach, If the tide was out you’d reach a tiny bay beyond The cape without wet feet, an easy stroll but too effete For
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